‘How much does he want?’

‘How much can you get?’

She looked doubtful. ‘I can’t get too much from the office otherwise they will notice. If you can lend or give me money I know where to buy the type of paper you need. Will that be all right?’

‘What the Politburo is looking for is paper that has a government water mark in it. Paper from shops won’t have that, will it?’

‘No. And now I think about it, not all our paper does have a government watermark.’ She looked out of the little window in thought. ‘Tell you what. Come back here tomorrow evening and take however much I will have brought back. I can’t do more than that, much as I’d like to.’

‘Good. That will certainly be a great help. Thank you for the tea. I’ll come back tomorrow at dusk. If anybody were to ask you why you need the paper, please, for Lenin’s sake, keep the Party’s name out of it.’

‘As always, however hard it is,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘I have a special message for you from Comrade Chin Peng: whenever you send a report on any proposed amnesty and peace talks, just to make sure that no one finds out your name, sign it “Ng Heng, Representative of the Malayan Races Liberation Army”.’

Her eyes glistened at the delicious secrecy of that message.

He bid her farewell, took a taxi back home and rang C C Too. He told him how Chan Man Yee had echoed his words and how she was going to collect some government watermarked paper for him. ‘If you can let her have some, it will make my life easier the other end. Oh yes, I have learnt that she has visitors you and yours would not approve of.’

‘No, I’ll catch her as she leaves and not allow her to return. I’ll drop some paper off at your place some time tomorrow or the next day.’

8 September 1954, Police HQ, Kuala Lumpur: At closing time people locked their office and went to the janitors’ office to give the keys in. Chan Man Yee wondered why people were taking so long about it and saw to her horror that there was a spot check. Three policemen were searching the bags of the staff. She froze but was pushed on by those behind her, who were grumbling at being late. ‘I’ll have to think of an excuse, she fretted, having, in her bag one ‘long ream’ of government watermarked paper, five hundred and sixteen sheets. As one policeman searched her bag another stood in front of her and the third behind her. When asked what she was doing with so much paper, she became flustered and said something about having homework to do. ‘Not good enough,’ said the senior policeman and gave the sheets to another policeman before marching her off to see the Duty Officer.

Unsatisfactory answers followed probing questions until the Duty Officer said, ‘You will have to spend the night in the cells, I am sorry to say,’ not looking at all sorry. ‘It is too late to hear your case now. I’ll arrange a session for early tomorrow.’

9 September 1954, central Malaya: A Company had managed a follow-up of the group the Auster had alerted as they came across tracks for several men, one of whom was dragging his leg as he walked. So he was hit. It was on the third day of steady patrolling after the unsuccessful contact, with the countryside becoming steeper, thicker and more rugged that the patrol Jason was leading heard the sound of someone cutting a tree. By then there was such a depth of knowledge of jungle lore that by the sound made they knew it was a ‘palm cabbage’ tree that was being chopped down for its delicious fruit. There was a small stream in front of them. The cutter could be no one but a daku. They were not near enough to hear any voices. Back. Trying to leave as few foot prints as possible they returned to their overnight base where they waited for the other patrols to return.

During that time Jason thought he ought to warn Sunray of the situation. He sent a message in key, not voice, ‘Charlie Tango located. Golf Romeo uncertain because no features on map.’ This grid reference lark is a puzzle. ‘Will make close recce later today. Marker balloon only to be placed later.’ If that does not satisfy His Highness, nothing will.

Once all were back and a brew of tea was being prepared, Jason held an ‘O’ Group and told them what he had discovered. ‘Corporal Kulbahadur Limbu, Chakré Rai and I will do a close recce, starting,’ he looked at his watch, ‘in half an hour at 1445 hours. No jungle boots, only canvas shoes, no equipment, only bandolier and weapon. The rest, under the Company 2ic, will be ready to make a frontal attack in the direction of any firing should it be opened against us. Don’t worry about hitting us as we will squirm away to a flank.’

‘Saheb,’ asked the 2ic anxiously, ‘are you sure you yourself should go?’

‘Gurkha Captain saheb, yes. We have practised this enough times. Also, if I hear any Chinese spoken it could mean we know more about who and how many are in the camp.’

Appreciative grins showed they understood. After their brew, the three of them, putting leaves into their jungle hat and a camouflage net over their lower face – ‘If an enemy appears to look straight at you, freeze and he will probably not see you’ – with Kulbahadur in front, set off. They knew what to do: on a compass bearing leading to the camp site, five to ten yards apart, they slowly moved to where the tree cutting had been heard. Inching their way forward, they found a cut palm cabbage and saw tracks for three. These they followed until Kulbahadur stopped. ‘Can you see a sentry?’ Jason quietly asked.

Kulbahadur nodded to a flank. ‘Back fifty yards.’

They then cautiously started to circle the camp clockwise, keeping ears and eyes on high alert. After an agonizingly slow two hundred paces, they stopped, waited for ten minutes, then again moved in, this time more like seventy-five paces, their having gone too far to the left. Once more they hid behind trees and listened. Yes. Voices. Back again and carry on with the encirclement. Four times they approached the camp and by then they had fully marked its boundaries, where the sentry posts were, where the water point was, not that either mattered if the place was to be bombed, but did matter for putting up the marker balloon. Only once did Jason pick up what was said and that was that the CT had no idea that any Security Forces were in the area.

‘Back we go,’ said Jason and, by dusk, they had reached their overnight base. Jason called ‘Sig-nel ustad, bring a message pad,’ and he wrote a short message. ‘Camp fully recced. Details tomorrow,’ and gave it to the radio operator. ‘Send this by key.’

After it was sent, ‘Anything for us?’

‘No, Hajur, except a “Roger. out” from Sunray.’

After their meal Jason said that, at first light, he would take three men and the marker balloon ‘to a place I have already chosen. As you know, there is a canvas bucket for water into which we put the powder. The hot air that comes out from the wet powder must be put under the open mouth of the balloon which we first unroll. As the balloon fills up, we must make fully sure that it does not fly away so its neck must be firmly held but not so that the gas cannot get into it. Once the balloon is full, we tie up its base with its opening still above the bucket then cut off the end. Make sure our khukris are sharp. The water, bubbling and probably making a hissing noise, must be tipped away. We tie the string, knotting it really tight at the base before letting it fly up above the trees. We then tie the end of the string to a tree and it’s back here quickly and quietly. Let’s check the balloon now.’

The three men to go with Jason did a ‘dry run’ on what to do on the morrow and felt confident. Once again only weapons would be taken, no equipment. Following them 2 Platoon would move to an observation position to cover the balloon party. ‘Just in case,’ as Jason put it.

The guerrillas had no idea that their camp had been surrounded. It was a new one and they were tired. ‘It was that enemy plane that alerted us,’ the commander said, looking at the wounded man. ‘Now we will probably be safe for a while.’

10 September 1954, Kuala Lumpur: In the early hours a three-man bug-fixing team entered the block of flats in which were Chan Man Yee’s rooms. It was easy work because there were no special security arrangements. One man stayed to put a bug hidden in the phone, activated on sound, to record ‘open’ speech and the two others went down to the basement. Using their torches, they went by a little-used tunnel to where the telephone cable came into it and followed it along the wall to the central panel near a wire mesh storage space. The senior man opened a metal tool kit and took out the induction tap and cable. The junior man was told to unscrew the cover on the central panel and attach the induction clamp to the line and tap the device into place without touching the wire so making it difficult to detect. The two men wedged a small battery-powered transmitter between a beam and the ceiling then ran a black cable from the induction tap behind a pipe and plugged the end into the transmitter. The induction tap, now clamped, would broadcast to any truck parked not far off where it would be recorded on tape. They connected one end of the antenna wire to the terminal and, unreeling it, taped it to the side of the beam then activated the transmitter and hit the ‘Test’ button, ringing the phone number in Chan Man Yee’s room. The man there answered.

‘Tidy up and get out,’ he was told. It had not taken long: ‘Said it was only a short job, didn’t I?’ said the senior man in a low voice, grinning with satisfaction at their handiwork.

Next morning the phone tappers gave their report to C C Too. ‘You will be able to record and monitor any calls back here, will you?’ he asked.

‘We hope so but if not, we can always go back and recover the recording device, putting another in its place.’

‘That was good work. Thank you’ and they were dismissed.

Two hours later the woman was brought out of the cell and, thoroughly frightened, taken by the Security men to C C Too’s office. ‘Undo her handcuffs but stay close to her to see she does not do herself any damage.’

‘Explain yourself,’ C C Too told her, wondering what story she would come up with.

Whimpering, she said that she had promised to take some books she had borrowed from a friend and, in a hurry, she had put in the paper instead. ‘Imagine my surprise when it was found,’ she gasped, finding her courage rising. ‘I could have explained that yesterday but I was so frightened I became tongue-tied.’

Mr Too stared fixedly at her for a while, saying nothing. She dropped her gaze, wondering if her excuse would be taken as valid.

The two guards were surprised at C C Too’s verdict. ‘I’ll accept your story this time however unlikely it sounds. It’s a pity the owner of the books came to your office to take them away before we searched it.’

She tried to control her gasp of relief when the guards were told to let her go. She certainly had not expected to be let free. So I am under no suspicion she crowed.

She had a fine story to tell Ah Fat that evening. ‘… and so I have no paper for you. Do you think you can get some from any other source?’

No, sadly, that was not an option. ‘I’ll tell you what. Now we are together, tell me all you can about what is going on where you work. I know that the Central Committee will vote in your favour if I can tell them what fine work you are doing.’

And out it all came, faithfully recorded on the tape in the basement as well as in Bluff Road. Avenues of misdeeds, of penetration and of finding out of where guerrilla sources lurked were revealed.

At a quarter to midnight Ah Fat said he would have to leave her. ‘I will let our comrades know just how well you are doing,’ he said as he left. As he reached his house he heard his wife answering the phone. ‘Here he is,’ she said, handing it over to her husband.

‘Well done, you’ve hit a gold mine.’ C C Too was jubilant. ‘When will you go back north?’

‘I have permission for a few days yet. I can’t tell you how marvellous life here is after my other  …’

‘No need to say it. We are richer by far for what you’re doing. We owe you a large debt. I’ll get the paper delivered to your house tomorrow.’

11 September 1954, Kuala Lumpur: ‘Tell me what you have in mind about this watermarked paper,’ Mr Too asked Ah Fat.

‘At the back of my mind I have an idea: you and I only to know how to put a, what, warning at the start of any publication that it is I who doctored the text.’

‘Sounds intriguing. Tell me more.’

‘Jason and I are pals from way past and if I can involve him somehow in this it will be a “feel-good factor” for me. How to? I will use our nicknames. However, I have never forgotten how my nickname had been known to some of the comrades when Jason saved my life back in 1952. I can’t take chances on still being unknown so I’ll disguise them.’ He picked up a piece of paper and a pencil from Too’s desk. ‘Any document that I have monitored my name P’ing Yee, with the Yee ‮&‬ص, Ear, in P’ing Yee ,٪‮-&‬ص, will be miswritten as ‮)‬y, ‘suitable’, the first impression the reader would get is that the writer must have meant ‘cheap’, Pian Yee, ‮+‬K‮)‬y’ as he mentally saw it, writing down the characters as he spoke. ‘Or even the character P’ing,٪‮-‬ in P’ing Yee, ‘flat’ combined with the character Yee for ‘suitable’, would give a nonsense meaning of ‘flat suitable’ in English that makes no sense so would be taken as a misprint. As it also makes no sense in Chinese, the reader would probably try and determine the meaning from the context. For Jason’s name, Shandung P’aau, Shandong Cannon, ‮$‬s‮*‬F،‮٦‬, make the third character miswritten as B’aau, ٪‭]‬, meaning bun or bread roll, so Jason can hide his name as Shandong Bun, ‮$‬s‮*‬F٪‭]‬.

‘I don’t think it matters if suspicion is smelt as quite often there is no obvious sense where there is no counterpart in Chinese that has to be translated from a foreign language or even when writing a non-Chinese phonetic rendering, the sounds required must have their original basic meanings.’