Ah Fat did.
‘Come and see me this evening at 7 o’clock and I’ll give you a meal.’
‘Yes, I’d like that. Is there any way you can bring Chan Man Yee’s address with you?’
‘You don’t want it over the phone?’
‘Better not. By the way, I’ve got my Bear with me but, unless you want to see him, I’d like to send him home for a couple of days. He has not seen his family for too long.’
‘Understood about the address and let the Bear go home. See you later.’
It was nice for both men to meet up, which they seldom did. After pleasantries and with a drink, ‘Tell me all. It must be something serious for you to be here and ask such a question, especially in Mandarin,’ said C C Too, chuckling.
‘It is. The main cause of my visit is that the Secretary General has asked me to produce a new newspaper, the name of which is to be Red Tidings and it is to be printed on paper with a government watermark. But before I go into details of that, what do you know about Chan Man Yee?’
‘We have had her vetted and she has nothing against her.’
Ah Fat took the piece of paper Chin Peng had given him out of his pocket and showed it to his host. On seeing her name and Chin Peng’s signature, he turned pale. ‘Can’t believe it, can’t believe it,’ he whispered to himself. He wiped his brow and took a long pull of his whisky. ‘Okay, tell me everything but first of all how do this woman and the Secretary General manage to combine?’
‘I do not know the background. I did not want to probe about it in any way but I am to approach her and find out what she has gleaned, unofficially presumably, about any ceasefire and amnesty.’
‘So she is in as deeply as all that, is she?’ Too said to himself, cursing as he did so.
‘Must be if she comes under the direct sway of the Politburo.’
Too cleared his throat. ‘With that as a background, tell me everything but before you do, here is the address she has put in her personal file and her telephone number.’
Ah Fat glanced at the scrap of paper on which it was written and then started his brief, first the Secretary General’s plan, then his own counter-plan and how his idea of using, or rather of misusing, his and Jason Rance’s Chinese nicknames as initial markers that any edition of Red Tidings was Ah Fat’s special rendering of the Politburo’s intentions and instructions.
A servant girl said that a meal for him and his guest was laid so they moved to the dining room. As the Chinese prefer not to talk during their meals, they quickly finished so they could resume their talking back in the other room.
With a brandy in his hand Ah Fat finished his narrative, which had included an up-dating on the general situation of the MCP. C C Too said ‘With that we need to decide how to take advantage of what you have told me.’
‘I have a further three more points for you: first, I will go and see Chan Man Yee at her house. I expect her husband, if she has one, or whoever she is living with, has similar ideas as she has. She must not know that you and I have met. Chin Peng thinks I can get some more paper for his new journal from her …’
C C Too broke in. ‘Tell her to try and use our paper store rather than buy anything in town. I can keep an eye on the amount of stationary we have and, if I can nab her stealing any, I can give her the sack.’
‘Then that answers my second point, which was how will you “play” her now you know her real role?’ Ah Fat looked at his watch. ‘I must be moving off soon. My wife knows I am back here and is waiting for me so can you briefly tell me how far any ceasefire talks and amnesty plans have reached?’
‘There certainly are planning papers circulating but one thing is certain sure, even if there is an amnesty during which the Security Forces observe a ceasefire – and I’m sure the guerrillas will take plenty of advantage of one – the MCP will never be accepted as a legal political party.’
‘Talking about peace talks and amnesty, the Secretary General has told me to tell Chan Man Yee from now on whenever she sends anything, especially in any document she might find that refers to peace talks and amnesty, sign it as Ng Heng, Representative of the Malayan Races Liberation Army.’
‘How very, very interesting. A tremendous bonus point for us.’
‘That makes me happy,’ said Ah Fat rising. ‘Tell you what, if I were to ring this mole from here, is there any danger of the call being traced?’
C C Too shook his head. ‘None whatsoever. In fact, do use my phone so I can listen in to her reply. There it is, in the corner on that table.’
They went over to it and Ah Fat dialled the number. After a few bells, a sleepy voice answered. ‘Allo, ’allo.’
Ah Fat used the Cantonese equivalent, ‘Wei,’ and continuing in Cantonese asked for her by name at the address on the piece of paper. Yes, it was Chan Man Yee at the other end and briefly, using coded nicknames only the Politburo and one or two others knew, introduced himself as wanting to see her and give her a message from the top. ‘It is too late now,’ she said, using the same coded words where necessary. As she did, Ah Fat and C C Too exchanged glances. Proof!
‘Is there any chance of coming to see you tomorrow morning before you go to the office? There is much that I want to say but then there may not be enough time for you to listen to me.’
There was a long pause. ‘No. Tomorrow morning is not suitable. Tell you what, when I get to the office, I’ll pretend I have to go to the doctor and at, say, around 10 o’clock, you can come. But before I tell you anything, I’ll want proof you are who you say you are.’
Ah Fat laughed good-naturedly. ‘I’ll show you all the proof you want when we meet,’ and rang off.
C C Too said, ‘It will be interesting indeed if that happens. If she does leave when she says she will it will give us a good chance to search her workplace for any clues. By the way, how will you get back home? It is a bit late for a taxi.’
‘Blast. Yes, it is, isn’t it?’
‘I’ll run you back in my car and if there are any points that occur to me, I can ask you as we go.’
‘What does she look like and how can I recognise her before she sees me?’
‘Short, squat, wears high-heeled shoes. You said you had three points: what is the last one?’
‘Yes, of course. I rather got carried away. Sorry. Can you produce about two hundred sheets of the new newspaper’s cover? That is something I will find almost impossible to do properly by myself.’
‘Have you a motif?’
‘Yes, the name was chosen by Chin Peng saying he did not want to go to a Catholic school because of all the preaching of “good tidings” so we hit on the name of Red Tidings instead. As for the cover, I’d like to see the Secretary General invoking a congregation, not with “good” but with “red” tidings. That will please his by-now rather deflated ego.’
Mr Too laughed. ‘That will give me much pleasure.’
7 September 1954, No. PS 150, Restaurant-cum-bar, 150 Jalan Petaling, Kuala Lumpur: At 8 o’clock Ah Fat went into the cryptically named bar and greeted the owner, Ah Hong, a childhood friend. ‘A coffee, please. I’ll sit at a table near the window.’
‘Back at your old tricks, I suppose,’ Ah Hong said with a lop-sided grin. ‘I stopped playing that game after Mr Rance left for India as, I presume, the intelligence man he always was.’
‘Quite right, my old friend, but I have to keep extra special quiet about it.’ A waiter took the cup of coffee and put it on the table by the window. ‘I’m looking to see if a certain woman leaves from a house just down the road on the other side. If I do see her, I’ll call you over to see if you recognise her.’
Ah Hong merely nodded and went to serve a customer who had just come in.
Most office workers were leaving and he did see a short, squat woman come out from the block and look around before going to the bus stop. As she went past on the other side of the street he saw that she did wear high-heeled shoes. He beckoned to Ah Hong. ‘There she goes. Know her?’
‘Know of her would be more correct. Some of the people who visit her at odd hours come here for a beer afterwards. I never seem as though I am listening in to what they say and that’s the way I’ve been trained. I don’t think Jason’s father would have allowed them to wander as freely as they seem to be doing.’
‘Interesting,’ counted his friend. ‘I have an interview with her around 10 o’clock, so I’ll stick around.’
At a quarter to ten he relieved himself, ready for action. At just before 10 o’clock she came back, looking around as though a bit flustered, and let herself into her front door. Ah Fat waited five minutes to see if there was anyone following her. No. He got up, paid the bill, said good bye to Ah Hong and left. He sauntered across the road and as he got to the door of her house it opened and there she was, Chan Man Yee herself. ‘Inside,’ he hissed at her and, in the hall, pressed Chin Peng’s authorisation into her hand. ‘Look at this and do not doubt me in any way from now on.’ He spoke in exactly the tone of voice someone as senior as he would to one such as her.
‘Come with me upstairs to my room,’ she said, leading the way. She opened the door into a cheap bed-sitting room, with a small kitchen and wash room to one side. ‘Let’s have a glass of tea while we talk,’ she said, talking off her shoes and going barefooted.
Tea ready and sitting down, Ah Fat told her about his visit and the new newspaper, Red Tidings, the need for paper and how much could she tell him about a ceasefire and an amnesty. ‘The Secretary General has the greatest faith in you and is sure you can bring him up to date with what is happening in that busy office you work in.’
She was pleased with his praise and started to go into detail, echoing almost exactly what C C Too had said the night before, using certain phrases that could only have been read from any reports he had made or received. ‘Thank you, that is most interesting. And the Secretary General has asked if you can get enough paper for cyclostyling our first edition and also others.’
