‘So why have you come back here, Comrade?’ Chien Tiang asked.
‘You can probably guess as you can hear the same Radio Malaya news as I can. There is much talk about an amnesty and I am sure you want to know what gwai lo thinking is on the matter.’
Yes, they all wanted to know what was ‘in the air’.
‘I want your permission to make a journey down to Kuala Lumpur and visit the person you sent me to see last time.’ – it was wrong to say ‘Chan Man Yee’ – ‘who is in such a wonderful position that I can learn whatever is being talked about the amnesty and associated matters.’
‘Comrade, yes, that is a good idea. A direct face–to-face talk is necessary. You must not, ever, use the telephone about any meeting.’
‘Comrade, that would be a grave breach of security,’ said Ah Fat, solemnly.
‘You know where the person lives. You will go to the house in your normal manner making sure you are not observed. I know your trade craft is superb. I’ll ask our members if they agree.’
‘How will you go?’ asked one of them. ‘By road or air?’
‘I’ll go into Malaya by road and fly from Penang down to KL.’
Votes were taken. Unanimous approval. ‘Don’t be away too long. Your editorship is what is needed here. We have just decided that, come the 1st of May, we will send the British Government of Malaya a letter under the name of Ng Heng, Representative of the Malayan Races Liberation Army, offering peace talks.’
‘I fully understand the sanctity of that and, as the vote is unanimous and I am ready to move forthwith, I will leave tomorrow,’ he said as he left for his own part of the camp. He sensed morale was low without any amnesty.
‘We’re off first thing tomorrow,’ he said to the Bear and Ah Chong.
Ah Fat did not know that camp sentries were now briefed as to who was allowed to leave the camp because too many of the lower-ranked comrades had become so frustrated that they had tried to escape. This had to be stopped. Any unnamed person seen leaving was to be shot, not challenged first. The sentries were told that two named people would be leaving the camp early next morning, not three. The three men moved off but neither Ah Fat nor his Bear noticed that Ah Chong had bent down to tie his boot lace that had become undone.
‘Only two,’ said the sentry, ‘whom we know. This third must be stopped.’ He aimed from about twenty yards and blew Ah Chong’s head off.
Ah Fat and the Bear continued as though nothing had happened as it was too risky to do anything else.
No one could recognise the corpse that was buried according to routine in an unmarked grave before rigor mortis set in.
1st Battalion, Queen’s Royal Regiment. ↵
Operation ‘Dover’ did take place historically. Here names and dates have been changed for obvious reasons. ‘Vinod Vellu’ was awarded a George Medal for his undoubted courage - it was not his fault matters fizzled out so disappointingly. He changed his name and went to live out his life in India where he knew he had a much better chance of dying of old age than had he stayed on in Malaya. ↵
Early April 1955, Kuala Lumpur: Back in KL, Ah Fat and the Bear were determined to put their dangerous job behind them, if only for a short time, and relax with their family. Wives and children hated seeing so little of them. They had no idea what their real job was but the money paid into their bank accounts did mean that they considered the job must be worthwhile.
After delivering his children to school in Jalan Petaling that first morning, a wonderful treat for them, Ah Fat went to the restaurant-cum-bar owned by his old friend, Ah Hong. Because of other customers being in earshot, he merely ordered a coffee and went to sit in a vacant corner. Ah Hong plonked it down on the table with no word spoken – trade craft – and Ah Fat slowly sipped it until the place was almost empty.
Ah Hong then sidled over, cocked an inquisitive eye at his friend and quietly asked if all was well. ‘Yes, well enough, thank you,’ Ah Fat, rubbing his hands together, answered with a grin before nodding in the directing of Chan Man Yee’s dwelling. ‘Have you noticed any changes in her circumstances?’
‘No, nor am I aware of any,’ Ah Hong answered slowly. ‘I have not been asked to by the type of person I used to work for and appearing too inquisitive can be unhealthy.’
‘Don’t I know it!’ countered his friend. ‘That’s why I am still alive.’
‘From time to time people who come in here do talk about her, softly and by inference. I am a dab hand at appearing not to listen and what I gather is that most of them are the start of a chain of couriers. Which way they go, to the MCP HQ or to the guerrillas in the jungle, I don’t know.’
That made Ah Fat ponder: people in Ha La had not given any hint of a KL courier link and even if Chan Man Yee was the start of a pro-MCP propaganda chain, Ha La would not know about it. ‘One of them left an unusual newspaper behind, by mistake or on purpose I can’t say, but it might be of interest to you. I’ve kept it to show you. I’ll go and fetch it.’ Off he went and returned with a copy of Red Tidings. ‘One of the men who hinted that he had been talking to Chan Man Yee left it,’ he said as he handed it over.
From the look on his friend’s face there was no need to ask if he knew about it. What did surprise him was when Ah Fat, turning away from the few customers and facing a light on the wall, opened it and, taking a page at random, squinted at it.
‘I’d like to ask you what you’re looking for and whether you found it or not but it is better I don’t. Instead, let me bring you another coffee, or perhaps something stronger?’
‘Kind of you but no thank you. I’m on leave for a week and I could easily come again and have a chat. Do you ever show this newspaper to anyone else?’
‘No. Do you want it?’
He had seen the government watermark and that, really, was all that interested him because it meant that there was a courier system that the Politburo had kept secret from him. Disturbing! ‘Yes, I’ll take it, it might come in useful. Can I use your phone, please, not the one at the bar but the one in your office for a local call?’
‘Of course, any time.’
Ah Fat rang the unlisted number in C C Too’s office. His voice was recognised and he was brusquely told to ‘Come to my place this evening. Bring your wife and the two girls can have ha king, ha king as we natter.’
Ah Fat grinned at ha king, ha king as it aptly described chickens pecking at the dirt for something to eat and C C Too was referring to the two women, heads bobbing up and down, as, with lowered voices, they exchanged gossip, scandal and tittle-tattle that was only suitable for women’s ears.
That evening, when the women were talking in another room, Ah Fat said, ‘I have an important piece of news for you. The MCP Politburo has just decided that, come the 1st of May they will send a letter to the High Commissioner under the name of Ng Heng, Representative of the Malayan Races Liberation Army, offering peace talks.’
His host sat bolt upright in his chair at that, a look of satisfaction on his face. ‘You’re completely sure of this, aren’t you?’
‘Couldn’t be surer. I was told by Chin Peng himself that the Politburo had passed the motion almost that very minute.’
‘Great, great. The boys in Bluff Road and at HQ Malaya Command will also be overjoyed at learning that so early on. What else have you for me?’
‘Nothing till I have rung Chan Man Yee. I’ll hold the phone away from my ear so you can hear what she says.’
He dialled the number and, after six or seven rings, the phone was picked up and, in Cantonese, she asked who was speaking. He introduced himself as he had done the first time, no names but saying that he was back in town from the north and that her friends, apart from sending their fraternal greetings, wanted him to meet her to find out what was happening about any peace talks, amnesty or ceasefire.
‘I know quite a lot that maybe has not reached where you come from and I can tell you what I know when we meet.’
