‘Too busy for a glass of brandy?’
‘Never too busy for that’ and just within the half hour he returned to the waiting taxi and sped away.
***
‘I was warned that a visitor might come but had no idea when or who. I expect the contact will see you but he is a proud and irascible red-haired running dog for all his political acumen so don’t be surprised at being not all that welcome. He seems to look down on anyone who is not the same as he is, a Russian. I don’t have a telephone number for him as he rings me, never the other way round, he’s such a cautious fellow. We will have to go to his place without any warning. Are you ready?’
‘Of course, after such a long and complicated journey I must be, mustn’t I?’
The tannery had a truck and the Hakka told Ah Fat to get in. He drove out of the area on a different road and although Ah Fat had never been to India what little of Chinatown he saw was incongruous when compared to what he and the purser had driven through already. ‘If, after you have handed me over and I need to return, may I ask where we’re going?’
‘Yes, of course you must know. It is the Soviet consulate in Alipore Park Road. There is a man there who is known as the Rezident, a Russian word I believe, a man who calls himself Leonid Pavlovich Sobolev. It took me a long time to learn how to say that!’ He swerved dexterously to miss a wandering buffalo, just managed to miss an on-coming car, served back and again just missed another vehicle which was driving on the wrong side of the road. Ah Fat wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and hoped the journey wasn’t too long.
The Hakka parked his vehicle down a side street, locked it and said, ‘Come on. Follow me. Try not to show any surprise at what happens.’ They walked into the main road, reached a building that was guarded by thick rails, went up to the front door and rang the bell. Nobody answered until the fifth ring and the door was opened by a European, presumably a Russian, who recognised Wong Kek Fui but of course not Ah Fat.
‘What do you want?’
‘I have a messenger from Malaya I need to meet the Rezident.’
‘Name?’
‘You know mine. His is of no interest to you.’ Such a bald answer satisfied the functionary. ‘Wait here. I’ll tell the Rezident’ and a few minutes later he came back. ‘Come on in but make it quick as he seems to be in a bad temper.’ He led them to a visitors’ room. ‘Sit down and wait.’
A burly, uncouth-looking man came into the room, looked at Wong Kek Fui and said, ‘And no warning again?’
‘Mr Sobolev. If I could I would. This man has just come from Malaya and has been told to report to you.’
Leonid Pavlovich Sobolev, uncertain whether his security had been breached, was neither gracious nor forthcoming. Ah Fat had yet to learn that the only people a Russian can be on really friendly speaking terms with is another Russian, and then not always.
The Rezident eyeing Ah Fat, creased his lips disdainfully and muttered ‘another slit-eye.’ Ah Fat, uncharacteristically, felt his gorge rise. He turned away from the Rezident and said to Wong Kek Fui, ‘Stand up and make for the door. I’ll follow you.’
‘Where are you going?’ called out a startled Rezident.
Ah Fat spun round and spat out ‘I have made an uncomfortable and long and lonely journey to report to you as I was told to by the Politburo of the Malayan Communist Party about your helping us and I do not expect to be insulted and spoken to as a piece of shit. I’ll go back and tell them you are nothing but a fraud’ and, reaching the door, turned the handle.
‘No, no. Don’t go.’ Bloody little man. ‘Come back and we talk as friends.’
Pretending reluctance Ah Fat and his companion went back and sat down. ‘You say you come from where?’
‘Malaya.’
‘And that you were told by your Politburo to come and see me, the MGB Rezident in Calcutta? That is not likely. My security is much better than a pile of unknown Chinese knowing who I am.’
‘My Politburo knows nothing about you personally or your rank. Only that somewhere they don’t know is a big controlling spider in a web that links us comrades up together.’
At that the Rezident merely grunted and asked ‘What is it your Politburo wants from me and how does it know about me? Of course I am willing to help but first I need to know how it is you know about me.’
‘Nothing as such. It knows that Comrade Cheng Geng knows Comrade Law Chu Hoi and I was sent on his ship to come to here. He does not know you but he knows that Wong Kek Fui knows where to bring me. He took me to Tangra where he introduced me and he has now brought me to you to introduce me to you. Now are you satisfied?’ I have never spoken like this before but it seems to be working Ah Fat thought as he saw the Rezident look relieved.
‘That I accept. And what help do you want from me?’
‘We understand that you are helping to manipulate Gurkha soldiers serving in Malaya to be converted to Communism to get them dismissed by the British government as not wanted and, at the same time, if any of them do stay in Malaya to have them sent to Sarawak, if you know where that is, to quell any trouble there. Once there the MCP can recuperate what losses they have suffered so go on to victory.’
The Rezident nodded. ‘Yes, that was one of my many tasks. I gather one battalion has already joined us and been sent back to Nepal. Did you come with them?’
Ah Fat nodded. ‘My Politburo is satisfied with what you have done so far over in Malaya. The people who you influence, even if not directly, are doing a good job and so there is no need to increase whatever you are doing.’
The Rezident looked satisfied. Ah Fat thought furiously, how can I further disillusion him? How can I use Jason? ‘As you cannot get about like any normal agent may I make a suggestion for what to do here in India?’
‘What do you know about what is happening here?’
‘Don’t tell me we don’t know about the jute mill coolies at Barrackpore?’
Such a detail shook the Rezident over whose face flashed a look of surprise.
Yes!Got it! ‘I have a trump card I would like to take from up my sleeve and offer to you’ and without going into details he suddenly stopped talking. Let the oaf resume the conversation!
The Rezident was not used to being spoken to like this. Being spoken to ‘in his own coin’ was a rarity. He waited for his visitor to resume. He waited in vain. Like any bully he relished the initiative.
‘And what is that?’
‘Unknown to the British Army there is a captain, an Englishman, who has taken over the Darjeeling Gurkhas’ task of getting the Gurkhas in Malaya on to our side. He came over on the same boat with me and is returning in a few days’ time. He told me he wanted to increase the effort over here. He seems to think that there may be an Indian representative you can let him contact to give him some of his ideas and tell him the result of his efforts, which he feels must be considerable.’
As he let that sink in he saw a gleam in the Russian’s eyes. ‘And his name?’
‘He is masquerading as a Captain Jason Rance. I don’t know the name he was given at birth before he was made an in-depth agent of your party. He will only work with you on the understanding you keep it a secret as, so far, he is under no suspicion whatsoever.’
‘When can he come here and meet my representative?’
