And he thought he had! The morning after telling the noodle-seller about his plans he drove towards the Police Station, bewildered at not seeing anyone there. Should be there by now he thought but it is on the early side so I’ll come back later. On his return he was glad to see the barrow but the person with it was not the same, merely a lad. Tan Wing Hoong stopped his car just short of the barrow, leant out of the window and asked who the person was and where was the normal vendor?
‘He was taken away by police last night. They came to fetch him after dark.’
Tan Wing Hoong was shocked. ‘Why? And who are you?’
‘Why? How should I know why. Who am I? His fifth cousin and helper. I’ll look after the barrow now until he comes back.’ A thought struck him. ‘If he comes back,’ he added.
Tan Wing Hoong was not sure what to do. He could hardly go to the police and ask them because, as far as they were concerned, it was nothing to do with him. He had not mentioned the fact to the man he had spoken to outside the Police Station – what was his name? – but if he were to go and ask, claiming that the missing vendor was, in fact, one of his men, he might be implicated in his arrest so be under suspicion himself. No, he would have to arrange matters and act on his own. My name Wing Hoong means ‘forever heroic’ so it will all come right in the end. Before he left he asked the lad if he had seen any military vehicle. No, he had not so that meant the man who was his target had not yet come. At least that is one plus factor, he thought as he drove off.
Jason and Chakré left Kluang at midday and reached KL late in the evening, having stopped on the way for leg-stretches and a snack. In KL they stayed the night with the Bear’s widow. Although they hardly knew each other, she was glad to see him as she associated him with much of her husband’s life. She missed him badly and Jason kept her amused with his reminiscences. She was especially glad to think he would be working with her son. She had a phone and, knowing C C Too’s number, Jason rang him to say he was on his way. C C Too thanked him, wished him good luck and passed the message on to Wang Liang in Grik.
They left early the next morning and on the way Jason briefed Chakré on their task. ‘Chakré, I must tell you why I have asked for you to come with me. I have been contacted by the senior Chinese in Special Branch to go into Temiar country for him and I need you as an escort. On the face of it, it is not a difficult task, merely to try and find out how the Temiar are managing without any troops on their ladangs and are there any guerrillas. No contact has been made with these people by Government, police or army for five years. The senior Chinese thinks I am the one man they trust and who can speak to them in their own language. You’ve seen me with them, haven’t you?’
Chakré grinned. Yes he had.
‘Now, there is so much jealousy between the Federation Army and the police neither must know about this journey of ours. Once we get to Grik we’ll be armed. But if the British sarkar were to find out what we are doing it could be serious, even a court-martial with lots of inter-government embarrassment. So we can only hope and pray nothing unusual happens and, if it does, you Chakré must have eyes in the back of your head to prevent any repercussion.’
‘Saheb, of course you can rely on me. But how strange the people in this country don’t have their own men for such a job.’
By evening had arrived in Grik where there was a company of 6 GR, commanded by an old friend. There was plenty of room for them both as one of the platoons was out on a local patrol. Jason rang the Police Station for Wang Liang, got the number of his lodging and told him he had arrived with one gunman.
‘Good. I’ll come and pick you up at seven o’clock. We’ll all wear plain clothes but I’ll have a couple of .38 pistols, ten rounds of ammo and some cleaning kit for you both. I’ll also bring some basic rations. You will give the Temiar much pleasure by letting them feed you on their tapioca but that won’t be enough for a growing lad,’ and he giggled at his own feeble joke.
‘That’s good,’ Jason rejoined, ‘as we’ve nothing with us. How long do you think this jaunt will take us?’
‘Let me see. A day up to Kerinching’s ladang, a day to get news around that it’s you who’ve arrived, that’s two and a day down. At least another day for talking so let’s say four days.’
‘That’s no problem. I’m on leave for the rest of the month.’
‘You do realise, don’t you, that no one has visited them since you persuaded the government not to station any troops on ladangs so, although they don’t want gossip about the wider world, they’ll feel they are not neglected so will want to talk.’
‘My Temiar may be a tad rusty by now as I’ve had no practice.’
‘Don’t worry, it’ll all come back quickly enough. Quite why we are behaving this way is a bit of a mystery. You may not know this, the police and army are hardly on speaking terms so this is the only way Mr Too can find out if there is anything he should know about.’
‘Okay Ah Wang, see you tomorrow,’ and Jason rang off while the Bear’s son rang ‘uncle’ to confirm the Major sahib’s arrival.
The police vehicle left the police lines before the new vendor reached his post and went to the camp to pick up Jason and Chakré, who were waiting at the camp entrance for it.. There was only one road to the boat point but Wang Liang did not drive back by way of the Police Station but by another road to collect the Malay boatmen. They reached the boat point, at exactly the same place on the Sungei Perak where work with the Temiar had started for Jason so many years before. He found it almost unreal and felt it acutely as, this time, he was returning, not starting out. Now he knew what to expect, what it was all about. The boat was ready, having had its tank filled the previous day and spare cans were brought from the stores. In they got and moved off into the river, where the main current was strong.
He was once more thrilled by the skill of the boatman as he steered his way up the rapids, happy to count over a hundred hornbills and to see the large monitor lizards sunning themselves on the sandy slopes. As he was travelling as a civilian he had brought an umbrella to keep the sun off but, as the day slowly passed, the inactivity and the hardness of the bench were the same as before: hard to take. Both he and Chakré were glad of the shade as the sun rose. Jason’s was big enough for Wang Liang to sit under. They reached the dilapidated Halting Bungalow an hour before sunset and got out, delighted to stretch their legs. Wang Liang told the boatman he wanted them back in three days’ time.
‘In that case we’ll go and stay in the nearest Malay village, which we have done before. It is much nearer than going all the way to Grik and back,’ said the driver.
Jason thanked them for bringing them safely and waved them goodbye before moving off on the path he remembered so well, now more overgrown. Some distance along he met a young Temiar lad whom he asked where Tata Kerinching’s ladang was. He was told he had moved his house and directed them towards it. They got there just as the sun was setting. They found Kerinching, with five others Jason knew and he remembered the names of four of them, his Temiar language skills instantly returning. All showed the greatest joy at his unexpected appearance. ‘I knew you would came back one day,’ said an ageing Kerinching. ‘You are the only one who ever cared for us. You make your mouth look like a chicken’s arse, but you have a kind heart.’ He smiled the old smile and the others nodded their agreement. By then Jason had introduced the other two.
Being unexpected, nothing was ready to eat so Kerinching told a younger wife to prepare some tapioca. She fetched a bamboo cylinder full of water to wash it. She put the cylinder of water between her knees, having first lifted her sarong up. She then tilted it up to her mouth, took a swig, replaced it between her knees and picked up the piece of tapioca, holding it a little away from her. She then squirted the water out of her mouth, jet-like, on to the tapioca, deftly cleaning it before her supply ran dry. It was then put into the ashes to roast, with a slight dowsing of the flame until it dried off.
Jason was told that Senagit had died a couple of years before, probably of tuberculosis, he thought, what with the dry cough he had. The others who gathered around were now much more confident than he had seen them before, with no military or guerrillas to come and bother them. They carried themselves more proudly with a superior almost disdainful look in their eyes. They were soon laughing as they talked of old times. When the tapioca was ready it was given to them. After their meal Kerinching said it was too late for a dance but maybe the next night … or the night after that … or the one after that also. But now it was bedtime. Space was made for them in part of Kerinching’s house and they slept well, except for Chakré who had a bad dream. In fact, three bad dreams he remembered when he woke, one was when he spilt some milk, one was when his ploughing oxen broke loose and one was when he saw his village house and went inside. All were bad omens with this last one really bad and he knew bad luck would be his before the end of the day. Almost unthinkingly he loaded his pistol, covering it, in its holster, under his shirt. It never occurred to him to make any mention of it: dreams were not to be spoken aloud about. He had been worried ever since Jason’s briefing.
Next day there was more talk as more people learnt that the man with a kind heart and a face like a chicken’s backside had returned. Mid-morning the three of them went for a walk when there was a rain shower with the sun still shining. To all Gurkhas this meant either seeing a jackal’s wedding or a death. On their return Jason went to talk to Kerinching by himself. He brought the conversation round to the guerrillas and was told that, since his last visit no one, no one at all, had visited them or bothered them. ‘It is like it was when I was much younger, so many years ago,’ smiled the old man. ‘We are all pleased.’ He looked at Jason, smiled again and said there would be a dance. ‘And after that you will make the children laugh.’ He was referring to when Jason, on a previous visit, had held them spellbound, first frightened then laughing with his dummy. All of them fully believed it had a spirit of its own.
Back in Grik Ah Tan was getting worried at his quarry’s non-arrival. He asked the noodle-vendor if any European had been seen and was told, no, the only European he knew about was the English Major commanding the Gurkhas in the camp just outside the town. I’ll leave it till tomorrow. Maybe the whole thing has been cancelled but he somehow doubted it.
Again, the next day there was no news so on the spur of the moment he drove to the boat point where, to his horror and anger, he learnt that a boat had gone upriver the day before with a tall Englishman, a Chinese he knew was a Police officer and, they thought, a Gurkha. Spitting his rage, he managed to get hold of a boat at treble the normal rate and, that ready, he told the driver to take him over the river to Kantan’s ladang. There he cajoled the headman to lend him his three best blowpipe shooters with some poisoned arrows. He paid a lot of money – not all that much to him but a lot to Kantan – to move straightaway.
By then it was far too late to go more than halfway. In fact the driver stopped off at the last Malay village where Jason’s boat crew were and the following day the two boats moved off together, Ah Tan almost berserk that his boat would not move at first light. They eventually reached the boat point not long before dark and Ah Tan, on asking the way, was shown the path. Off he set with his three men. He got lost and only when he saw the light of the fire did he know where he was. The four men quietly went towards the ladang.
Despite Chakré’s bad omens, it had been a happy day. After Jason and Kerinching’s talk the old man had ordered a dance and, of course, Jason was hauled out. He remembered the steps, left, left, right, right, left, left and enjoyed the clunking cadence made by pieces of bamboo the maidens’ beat on a log. After a while he pulled his two friends into the circle to join him. This time no one fell into a trance and it was dusk when it was over. They then went and sat outside Kerinching’s house and Jason, with the children clustered around him, got them into hoots of laugher. This the blowpipe group heard as it approached the ladang.
Ah Tan peered into the crowd he saw in the light of the fire and spotted Jason, wearing a floppy hat. Jason had, in fact, just lifted it slightly to let the mouse that had squeaked inside it – frightening the younger watchers – and had yet to replace it. The Chinese avenger, saying ‘hat, hat’ in Malay, pointed it out to his shooters, making a gesture of roundness with one hand. They had inserted their darts, now they lined up their pipes on Jason and blew. Three darts shot into the centre of his hat, knocked it out of his hands and it fell on the ground. He looked at it with amazement and, before he could even pull them out to see if the tips were black with ipoh poisoning, his batman, Chakré, having felt on edge all evening, saw what had happened in a glance and instantly turned, drawing his pistol as he did. Peering forward he saw the three Temiar fixing more darts and a taller Chinese behind them. He aimed and fired three shots, to the consternation of the ladang dwellers, and hitting the taller man in the forehead, a most lucky shot. One of the other two bullets knocked a blowpipe out of the blower’s aim and the other, startled by the noise of the shots, jerked and the dart flew wild, hitting a dog that ran away howling loudly.
Jason and Wang Liang ran forward, their pistols at the ready but the men from Kantan’s ladang, completely surprised and frightened by the unexpected firing, fled. Only a dying Chinese man was left.
‘My, but that was a close one,’ Jason said breathlessly.
The wounded man stirred and, trying to focus his eyes on Jason, stuttered out a few faltering words. Jason and Wang Liang bent forward and heard, haltingly and in a low voice, ‘it was you who killed my father … my father in … in … the jungle. I …’ his voice weakened, spittle formed on his lips and blood dripped from the wound in his head. It was a wonder he was still alive. He made another effort, his voice fading, ‘so … so to avenge him … I planned to kill you in the jungle.’ His last words sounded like ‘chui cheen toong hang dung’ but the two listeners were not quite sure.
On seeing that the man was dead Wang Liang asked ‘What do we do now?’ He called for a bamboo fire brand and, when one had been lit and brought, looked at the dead man. He gave a low whistle. ‘Yes, this is the man who was enquiring after you, so many years ago. I’d forgotten him.’ He searched his pockets and found nothing. In his haste the dead man had left his wallet and identity card at Kantan’s ladang. ‘I checked on him after he gave his name. He was the son of a highly placed and successful guerrilla commander. You won’t have heard of him, probably, his name was Tan Fook Loong.’
If ever Jason did a ‘double take’ it was then, ‘We can’t leave the corpse here all night,’ he said. ‘The Temiar will be frightened out of their wits and go and sleep in the jungle. But what do we do with it?’ Chakré, what are your views on this?’
‘Saheb, he deserved to die. We can’t take his corpse back as too many questions will be asked and I will be blamed and probably so will you.’ He paused, considering his options. ‘Saheb, we three with one volunteer Temiar will take the body to the river, not where the boat will be, but in a different place. There we will drown it. As far as anyone else is concerned, he was never here. As far as his boatman will be concerned, he ran away in the night. As far as the Temiar are concerned, they won’t have to move their houses, as I remember hearing they do, because of a death. He died just outside.’
The Bear’s son asked what he was saying so Jason told him. ‘I like it but it is against the law. But, and there always are buts aren’t there, no one else will know he is dead if we do what your gunman says. The Temiar will never mention it and no one will be any the wiser. Let me first check with Kerinching.’ The old man, who had not run away, was happy with the idea.
It was a grisly business that they undertook, none of them liking it one little bit. With enough bamboo fire brands properly to see what they were doing, they wended their way towards the river led by two Temiar lads. Jason wondered out loud whether it were better to leave the body for wild animals rather than drown it and find it floating. The Temiar agreed, as long as it was taken to the other side of the river and the river crossed below their drinking water point and above the boat point. They waded the river which was not quite knee deep and found what the Temiar thought was a suitable place. Wang Liang, who was not squeamish, took the clothes off the dead man and left the corpse nude, his watch still on his wrist.
‘Back in the ladang we will get the clothes burnt or, if Kerinching doesn’t think they are tainted, let him wear them,’ suggested Jason.
