The Devil's Circle, page 26
I riposted by complaining loudly about brazen interference with private rights and threatened to sue for false imprisonment. He didn’t apologise, but he didn’t make any more trouble either. I drove into Johore Bahru and did a quick U-turn on the deserted road. We retraced our path slowly, avoiding the worst of the potholes. The flood had receded somewhat so the going was better. By the time we got back to the house it was past nine o’clock.
It was only when I pulled up under the porch that I realised that all the lights were blazing. The lights were never all on at the same time, not unless something had happened. Fearing the worst, June skipped out the moment the car stopped. She bounded up the stairs two at a time and through the open front door into the hall. Mak, Ah Sum, Gek Neo and Augusta fell on her immediately. I joined them as soon as I had parked the car. There were floods of tears to match the floodwaters we had just been through. “What’s going on?” I demanded perplexed.
June was crying too. She gestured at the hall table. A telegram lay there. “Telegram,” she sobbed, “from Japan.”
My heart sank. As long as we had no news, there was still hope that Julie was alive. “It’s Julie isn’t it,” I said, my throat constricting with emotion. “Hell and damnation! Of all things, to get the bad news on New Year’s Eve like this.”
“No, you gobblock,” said June, laughing through her tears. “Julie is safe. The telegram from Japan says it. They were not in Nagasaki when the bomb fell. They are safe!” The five of them surrounded and inundated me with tears and hugs.
32
WE had a celebratory feast that New Year’s Day, rationing or no rationing. Mak and Gek Neo performed culinary miracles with what we had. D’Almeida, Cuthbert and Simon were there, together with George and Ralph. We ate and drank as if we had no cares in the world; which was entirely true, at least for the moment.
“So, did Marge and Habibullah get off all right?” I asked George after we had both stuffed ourselves sufficiently.
“Like a charm,” replied George, wiping the crumbs off his shirt. “The moment the Britishers saw your car zoom past, both jeeps took off after you. We got Habibullah and Marge out in the Humber under a couple of blankets. Karim was waiting with his prahu at Pasir Panjang. Ahmad said that there was no problem pushing off despite the swell.”
“Our minders must have called Ridley on their walkie-talkies,” I contributed, “he turned up after Holland Road, mad as hell. I don’t think it ever crossed his mind that Marge might be heading south and not north.”
“They’re in Tanjong Pinang, right?” asked Ralph.
“Right,” answered George. “Karim’s half-brothers are there. They’ll arrange the akad nikah and bersanding ceremony and do everything right and proper. Ahmad and the rest of his family will join them shortly. Once Marge is legally married there’s no way Miss Rider can get her hot little paws on her.”
“Will it stick?” asked Ralph doubtfully. “After all, she was baptised a Christian.”
“She’s been brought up as a Muslim,” said George. “Uncle Clarence says that it’s fine. Anyway, it counts as a valid Muslim marriage even if she’s a Christian. There’s a word that Uncle Clarence used … kitabiyyah, people of the book. A Muslim man can validly marry a kitabiyyah.”
“Still, I can’t help feeling sorry for Marge,” said Ralph reflectively. “She hardly knows him. It’s a big step to take. And she’ll be living in a foreign land.”
“He’s a good man,” I assured him. “He’ll take proper care of her. She could do much worse.”
Ralph cleared his throat. “I’ve got some news too.”
We looked at him expectantly. “Well, spit it out!”
“I’ve signed on,” he said simply.
“Signed on!” exclaimed George. “What did you go and do that for?”
“Well,” replied Ralph, “they offered me a job after my mob was demobbed. At the legal department of ALFSEA HQ here in Singapore. It’s court work and it means an extra pip. I’ll have to leave the firm though.”
“Leave the firm!” said George. “Give up your career! You must be barmy.”
Ralph glanced at me. He knew I understood. “It was too good a chance to miss,” he said without elaboration. “And it means I can bring May and Grace home. They’ll be giving me a house and a car.”
I grasped his hand and shook it warmly. “That’s marvellous! Have you told Mak and the girls? May and Baby Grace coming home. And Julie safe. Our little circle’s whole again.”
Mak and the girls were ecstatic at the news. Gek Neo went off to tell all the neighbours. Augusta snapped completely out of the depression that had gripped her. June was positively bubbling. I gazed around contentedly. The new year was starting well. Then I saw a figure under a tree in the garden, staring in through the open windows. It was Eng Tong.
“YOU’VE got some nerve coming here after trying to kill me!” I said heatedly, confronting Eng Tong.
“I try to kill you? Where got?” he responded.
“Don’t you play dumb with me,” I answered with passion, “you took a pot shot at me outside the courthouse. Poor Ward took the bullet instead.”
“I want to kill you for what?” he retorted, his brow furrowed. “I only want to talk to June.”
D’Almeida had joined me on the verandah. “You swear you did not shoot at Mr Chiang here?”
“Towkay,” replied Eng Tong, “I promise I never shoot at anybody. What for I want to kill him?”
“Where have you been these past weeks then? Why did you run off?”
“Towkay, sorry-lah,” he said with apparent contrition, “I scared you angry because I lie about that bastard Lim Tay Lin. I know you find out after you talk to him. Then I also go and look for work so I can marry June.”
“You were looking for a job!” I exclaimed. “You had a job and ran out on it. You left me high and dry.”
“I need a better job,” he replied. “Now I work for ang-moh. I am chief clerk at a company. I will ask June to marry me.”
“It was a wicked thing that you did, trying to get Lim hanged as Nakamura,” said d’Almeida severely.
Eng Tong hung his head. D’Almeida stroked his chin. “It seems that he speaks the truth,” he said. “This eliminates one of the two possibilities. I trust we are not too late.”
“Too late?” I exclaimed. “Too late for what?”
“Too late to stop another killing,” he replied shortly and strode off. I knew better than to press for an immediate explanation. Collecting George on the way, we piled into the Humber and sped off.
THE Chapel of Our Lady was a simple wooden structure, built somewhat like a barn. It was one of several chapels that the European POWs had been allowed by the Japanese to put up during their captivity. This one was fairly elaborate, with the framework of a belfry and a series of hand-painted stations of the cross. D’Almeida had explained his conjectures on the drive out to Changi.
“So no one was really after me?” I asked, just to be sure.
“No, I am fairly sure that the target was not you,” explained d’Almeida. “When Yeo said that he did not shoot at you, there were only two other reasonable possibilities: firstly, that it was some anonymous person who had some unknown reason to want you dead; or secondly, that the assailant wanted to kill Second-Lieutenant Ward. I eliminate the first as unlikely. This leaves us the second possibility.”
“Why Ward?” asked George. “What harm did he do?”
“None, personally,” replied d’Almeida, “unless again there is an unknown killer with a grudge. But young Lieutenant Ward was a member of the regiment that perpetrated the massacre at Parit Batang. I surmise that the killer is out for revenge for that event. This seems to be the only plausible explanation.”
“Poor Ward,” I said with feeling. “He wasn’t even there. He must still have been in school when it happened.”
“People who seek vengence of this sort rarely think of such things,” said d’Almeida. “It is enough that he was associated with the regiment. And now we must try to stop the killer striking again.”
“How can you be sure that he will strike again?” queried George.
“I cannot be absolutely sure,” answered d’Almeida, “but if I am correct, the memorial mass will be the ideal place. All the survivors of the North Anglians will be there. Perhaps even some of those responsible for the massacre.”
By the time we got there the mass had already commenced. The interior was packed. The large windows were shut on account of the rain, which was coming down in a steady curtain. It was stifling inside. D’Almeida moved to the front pew, instructing me and George to take our places at the side. I looked around as I sat. There was a sea of khaki and jungle green. All the faces were white. As far as I could see, no one there stood out as a possible assassin.
Church services have a soporific effect on me. This one was no exception. With the windows closed the heat was intense. There were no fans. Everyone was sweating buckets. The chanting and the incense made things worse. I could stand it no longer. I bolted for the door before I fainted.
The drizzle outside was a welcome relief. There was a breeze too. I lifted up my face to catch the raindrops. Looking up at the roof of the chapel, I spotted a dark figure hunched in the makeshift belfry. He was poised right above the entrance. Soon the coffin would be brought out. That would be the ideal time to strike. There would be no escape for him, but he could cause mayhem below.
I looked around for help. There was no one in sight. A ladder stood against the wall. That was the only way up. I clambered up as fast as I dared, trying to make no noise. There was a ledge that ran around the roof of the building. Gingerly, I crept forward, praying that he would not turn around. From below came the sounds of the mass sonorously intoned by the priest.
“Agnus dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem.”
The wind was strong and I nearly lost my footing. The sound of the rain on the wooden roof hid my approach.
“Agnus dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem.”
I was upon him before he realised that I was there. He had a hand grenade. The pin was out. We struggled. It was wet underfoot.
“Agnus dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem sempiternem.”
We slipped. The next thing I knew, the ground was hurtling towards me.
“WHAT is this strange affinity that you have for hand grenades?” asked George. “You seem to be attracted to them constantly.”
I was lying on my hospital bed. I grimaced at him.
“Does it hurt much?” asked Ralph.
“Only when I laugh,” I replied.
“Don’t laugh then,” said George unsympathetically. “You’ll be all right. It’s only a couple of cracked ribs. Which is a damned sight better than what happened to Nisar Ahmad when you fell on top of him.”
I wasn’t in the mood to be concerned about Nisar Ahmad. “He’s dead, I suppose?”
“As a doornail,” replied George. “So would you be, if the grenade hadn’t been a dud. Seems he got it from the little store you left with Simon.”
“How’d he manage that?” I asked. My ribcage was itchy. I shifted to a more comfortable position.
“As far as we’ve been able to make out, after Huntly pronounced sentence he delivered Habibullah’s note to June, then went right back to our office, sneaked past Singh the jaga, got into Simon’s filing cabinet and swiped the whole lot. We found the sack in the belfry. There were at least a dozen of the things. He intended to go out in a blaze of glory, literally.”
“That seems a bit extreme,” commented Ralph, “seeing as he wasn’t directly affected by what the North Anglians did.”
“It was more than that,” interrupted a voice from the door. D’Almeida had made his usual unexpected entrance. “Nisar Ahmad had left immediately when Colonel Huntly pronounced the death sentence on Habibullah. He did not wait to hear the conclusion, which was suspension of the sentence. This attack was meant to be revenge for the sentence of death pronounced on his master. He confided in one of the men who left with him that he did not intend to survive. I am sure that he meant to kill all the officers who participated in the court-martial, along with all the survivors of the North Anglians and any other British officers who happened to be there for good measure.”
“He wouldn’t have succeeded,” I replied, “not with the dud grenades Helen gave me. If I’d known I wouldn’t have risked my neck.”
“He did not know that and neither did you,” said d’Almeida. “It was a brave thing that you did. I have spoken with Cuthbert and Simon da Silva. We are agreed. When you come back, it will be as a junior partner.”
I was overwhelmed. “Mr d’Almeida,” I exclaimed, “what can I say?”
“Say nothing, my boy,” he replied, “just get well. I’ll not trouble you now. Come in next Monday and we can discuss the details. I must take my leave now. A little matter of a sack of hand grenades, you understand. And there is Mr Yeo Eng Tong to settle with.”
“He’s not given June any trouble?” I asked anxiously.
“No, I think not,” replied d’Almeida. “I understand that she made her position quite clear and he has accepted the rebuff as a gentleman should. But he has performed services for the firm. For this he should be paid.”
After he left, George and Ralph started pumping my arms. My chest hurt but I felt good. A sudden thought struck me. “What am I going to call him now? I can’t keep on calling him Mr d’Almeida. Can I?”
“You could call him Clarence. Or Uncle Clarence, if that makes it any better,” suggested George helpfully.
I turned it over in my mind. Clarence … Uncle Clarence … it just didn’t seem right. “I suppose I’ll figure it out. Eventually. In the meantime, I’ll just follow your lead,” I said to George.
“Ah …” responded George, going uncharacteristically solemn all of a sudden, “I wouldn’t count on that. I’m going.”
“Going? What do you mean you’re going? Going where?” I exclaimed.
“To Delhi,” he answered. “Clarence was good enough to write me a letter of introduction to a friend of his.”
I was stunned. “To Delhi! Why in the name of heaven do you want to leave now? We’re just getting back on our feet. We need you here. There’s so much to do in the firm … here in the Colony.”
“What would I do here in the Colony except get thrown into the clanger for trying to overthrow the Raj?” asked George. “I can do that better in Delhi. There’s a brave new world out there and the wind is changing. I want to be where the action is.”
I said nothing, just sat there and clasped his hand. He was right. The wind was changing. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Outside the window the watery evening sun broke through the rainclouds.
GLOSSARY
Adek
Younger brother or sister. Generally, any younger person.
ALFSEA
Allied Land Forces South East Asia.
Akad nikah
Solemnisation ceremony of a Malay wedding.
Ang-moh
European, in the local slang.
Anjung
Covered porch at the front of a Malay house.
Apa khabar?
Literally, “what news?”: the normal Malay greeting.
Ashigaru
The lowest class of men-at-arms in feudal Japan.
Azad Hind
Free India.
Azad Hind Fauj
The Indian National Army.
Azri Hukumat-e-Azad Hind
The Provisional Government of Free India.
Baba
Straits-born Chinese.
Babu
Derogatory term for an English-speaking Indian.
Baju kurung
Malay dress consisting of a sarong and loose blouse.
BEF
British Expeditionary Force.
Belukar
Secondary forest.
Bersanding
Malay customary marriage ceremony.
BIA
Burma Independence Army
BMA
British Military Administration, the military government of Malaya.
Bunkentai
A unit of roughly 20 men led by a lieutenant or warrant-officer.
Bushido
Literally, “the way of the warrior”; the code of the samurai.
Chachiru kyoyu
“Churchill rations”, the Japanese term for the supplies left behind by the retreating British forces.
Changkul
A mattock used for tilling the soil.
CO
Commanding Officer.
Dhobi
Laundryman
DUKW
US-made amphibious truck.
Getai
Chinese song and dance troupe
Giyu-gun
Volunteer Army formed by the Japanese to defend Malaya.
Giyu-hei
Member of the Giyu-gun.
Gobblock
Idiot in the local Baba patois.
Hantu
Ghosts, spirits.
Hara-kiri
Ritual suicide, traditionally by disembowelment.
Hari Raya Puasa
The feast of Eid, celebrated at the end of the fasting month of Ramadan.
