The mouth of an inlet about a hundred yards across appeared in the trees to his right. It looked inviting: if the Japanese were that determined to capture the sultan, in the morning they would have patrol boats combing the creek in search of the fishing boat; if Torrance hid it up one of the inlets, it would take Yashiro’s men that much longer to find it.
Kitty returned to the doorway of the wheelhouse. ‘Turn up that inlet.’
Torrance did not need to be asked twice. He spun the wheel. ‘You know where we are?’
She nodded. ‘That’s Sungei Pang Sua, I used to go swimming there. There’s a jetty where we can tie up.’
As they puttered up the inlet, the jungle walls seemed to close in on either side. A shiver ran down Torrance’s spine and he was glad the hiss of the rain on the water helped to mask the chugging of the boat’s engine. After half an hour of following the meandering waterway, he spotted the jetty on the bank to his left, which – taking a bearing from the glow of the fires at Kranji – was the eastern bank. He manoeuvred the boat alongside, and Quinn leaped ashore and wound a mooring line around a wooden bollard with an air of proficiency. Torrance counted everyone off.
‘We should sink it,’ he said, indicating the fishing boat.
‘Seems like a poor recompense to Ghazali’s village after all the help he gave us,’ said Rossi. ‘We’ve already blown up the other feller’s sampan, now we’re gaunae sink his father’s fishing boat?’
‘If we don’t, it’ll only help Yashiro pick up our trail,’ said Torrance.
‘He’s right.’ Quinn went back aboard. ‘I’ll scuttle her.’ He disappeared down a hatch in the deck.
‘Who’s Yashiro?’ asked Rossi.
‘The Japanese officer who’s after the sultan. The one with blue eyes.’
A sequence of thuds came from below decks, following by splintering. Quinn emerged from the hatch once more. ‘That should do it,’ he said, stepping back onto the jetty and casting off the mooring line. Even as they stood there watching, wondering how long it would take, the boat suddenly started to keel over. Water poured over the gunwale, she foundered and went under. This part of the creek was not all that deep, however, and the boat came to rest with the top half of the wheelhouse still standing proud of the water.
‘It’ll have to do.’ Torrance turned to Kitty. ‘You know where we are?’
Nodding, she pointed through the trees. ‘The wireless station where I used to work is about a mile that way.’
‘Would it make a good place for us to hole up for a few hours?’
‘I don’t know. I mean… yes, there are barracks there… bunks, showers. But the Japs are probably all over it.’
‘Maybe,’ said Torrance. ‘But if Singapore Town hasn’t fallen yet, I reckon they’ll be going all out to force a British surrender. Exploring out-of-the-way military installations like a wireless station will be low on their list of priorities. Even if they’ve found it, they’re not gonna waste men to guard it when those men could be fighting our lads up at Bukit Timah.’
Gibson looked pointedly at his wristwatch. ‘We’ve got less than thirty hours to get him back to Colonel Hamilton.’ He indicated the sultan. ‘And we’re still on the wrong side of the Japanese lines.’
Fourteen
Thursday 1800 – Friday 0800
‘It’s only a six-hour march from here to Singapore Town,’ said Torrance. ‘If we don’t get some kip soon, we’re going to start dropping from exhaustion. Let’s at least make a recce of this wireless station. If it’s crawling with Japs, we’ll move on.’
Kitty led them a few hundred yards along a jungle trail. The canopy overhead at least provided some respite from the rain. At the end of the trail they came to a railway line, and beyond that a wide tarmac road. The sun was setting behind them now and beneath the pall of smoke a premature dusk settled over the island. A whole company of Japanese soldiers marched up the road from their left, their rain-slick capes glistening in the ruddy glare of the burning oil tanks. Torrance and the others shrank back into the shadows of the trees. He realised this was the Woodlands Road, perhaps less than a mile north of where they had crossed it earlier that morning, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. On the other side of the road a side road led off it. It was not signposted, but Torrance had his bearings again and he knew that road led to the Royal Navy’s wireless station at Kranji. It was no great secret: anyone crossing the Causeway from Johore saw the towering aerial masts rising from the greenery of the heights above Woodlands.
While they watched the Japanese soldiers marching past, the beams of a pair of headlamps swept through the rain and a moment later a British Army lorry – now bearing Japanese flags crossed on the radiator grille – drove past from the direction of Bukit Timah. Since this was the main road from the Causeway to where the fighting was taking place, Torrance was surprised not to see more road traffic heading in the other direction. After hearing about Japanese tanks on the Bukit Timah Road on Tuesday night, he had assumed the Japanese engineers had repaired the Causeway, but perhaps that had not been true. The tanks had only been the smaller three-man tankettes the Japanese had, after all, and they probably did not weigh much more than seven or eight tons. Maybe the Japanese had floated them across the strait on rafts, and were still trying to mend the Causeway.
At last the tail end of the Japanese column had marched past and the road was empty again. Emerging a short way from the trees, Torrance had a clear view of the road to his right – at least, as far as his eyes could penetrate the rain – but to his left it curved away. ‘Lefty, run a short distance up the road that way and signal if you can see any more Jap soldiers coming.’
Rossi nodded and sprinted about fifty yards up the road, until he was no more than a vague figure in the gloom. Unslinging his rifle, he held it above his head at the full extent of his arm, muzzle uppermost: no enemy in sight.
Torrance took a final glance to his right: no enemy that way, either. ‘All right, let’s go, let’s go! Jildi, jildi!’ He chivvied the rest of the group across the road, boots clumping on the rain-washed tarmac, and they followed the side road leading to the wireless station. Torrance gestured for Rossi to follow, and the two of them hurried after the others.
The gates to the wireless station were closed but not padlocked. Kitty pushed them open, closing them with Torrance’s help once everyone else was inside. She led the way up one of the driveways leading through the site. In the darkness and the rain, Torrance had only a vague impression of bungalows widely spaced between lawns dotted with palm trees, as well as office blocks colonnaded with brutalist concrete pillars on all four sides. There were tennis courts and even a golf course. The navy seemed to do all right for itself; was it only the army that was lumbered with hutted encampments? Here and there large craters disfigured roads and lawns, and some of the buildings were partially collapsed and gutted by fire, as if the whole place had been on the receiving end of a half-hearted artillery bombardment. Torrance carried his Thompson in his hands, the safety off, still not entirely convinced they were not about to run into a party of Japanese boffins trying to penetrate the secrets of Western wireless technology. But it soon became obvious the place was completely deserted.
Kitty led them to one of the bungalows. They huddled under the veranda and she stooped to retrieve a key from under a doormat, unlocking the door.
‘Is this where you lived?’ asked Torrance.
‘No, my bungalow was over there.’ She pointed. ‘But this one has a better field of fire for your Bren if the Japs come up the main driveway.’
Torrance glanced out of a window and saw she had a good understanding of fields of fire. He doffed his balmoral and racked his fingers through his hair. Someone needed to go on watch while the others rested. ‘Any volunteers for first stag?’
‘Solly and me will do it,’ said Quinn. Shapiro nodded, shrugging off the wireless set and putting it gently on the kitchen table. While the two Australians went outside to take the first watch
, the sultan and Irina flopped down on a sofa. Rossi sat down facing the wireless set. ‘Might as well see if I can get through to Hamilton.’
‘First order of business, Hoot,’ said Torrance.
Gibson did not need to be told what the first order of business was. He fiddled with the controls of the oven. ‘The gas has been cut off.’
‘That’s an electric stove,’ Kitty told him. ‘Just put the kettle on the plate and turn the dial.’
Gibson turned the dial and put a hand on the plate. A moment later he had whipped it off again. He tried the taps and got water out of them. ‘We’re in business,’ he said, filling the kettle and placing it on the plate.
After fiddling with the wireless, Rossi threw down the headphones in disgust. ‘Nothing! I don’t know why we brought the bloody thing, it’s been no use whatsoever.’
‘We’re probably out of range of Singapore over here.’ Torrance turned to Kitty. ‘Anything you can do to boost the signal?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very technical.’
‘I thought wireless telegraphy was your specialty?’
‘I know how to use the things; don’t ask me how they work.’
In five minutes everyone had a mug of British Army tea. Cochrane even took a couple of mugs out to where Quinn and Shapiro hid amongst the pot plants on the veranda. Torrance sipped his tea. He could not remember a mug ever having tasted so good. He lit a cigarette to go with it.
Gibson started pulling ration tins out of his haversack. ‘Can I eat my ration, Slugger? My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.’
‘You should check the pantry before you go breaking into your rations,’ said Kitty. ‘The order to pull out came at rather short notice.’
Gibson did as she suggested and emerged with an armful of tins. ‘Who’s for chilli con carne and macaroni cheese?’
‘I don’t suppose I can have my chilli sin carne?’ asked Varma.
‘Eh?’
‘He means without meat,’ said Kitty. ‘He’s a Hindu, Hindus don’t eat beef.’
‘Actually, I don’t eat any meat,’ said Varma.
‘Are you a Brahmin?’ asked Kitty. ‘I had you pegged as a Kshatriya.’
‘Eh?’ said Gibson.
‘There are four castes in Hindu society,’ explained Kitty. ‘The Brahmins are the scholars and the priests, the Kshatriyas are the warriors and the rulers, the Vaishyas are the farmers, merchants and artisans, and the Shudras are the common labourers.’
‘What about the untouchables?’ asked Torrance.
‘Actually, the notion of untouchables is a corruption of the caste system,’ said Varma. ‘There’s no mention of untouchables in the ancient texts on which the system is based. And there are plenty of noble families in India belonging to the Brahmin rather than the Kshatriya caste. Speaking for myself, I don’t approve of the caste system. If someone wants to be a professor of chemistry, let him be a professor of chemistry. It should not matter what his father was.’
‘Is that what you want to be?’ asked Kitty. ‘A professor of chemistry?’
Varma nodded. ‘I only joined the army for the duration. Because I have a PhD in chemistry they said, “Chemicals, he must know all about TNT and nitro, let’s put him in the sappers.”’
* * *
It was still dark out when Torrance was woken the following morning by a voice. He could not make out the words, just enough to know he was only hearing half the conversation. Someone on a telephone. It all came flooding back to him: the mission to rescue the sultan, the bungalow at the wireless listening station. He stood up sharply.
Aching bones protested. He had spent the night sleeping in one of the armchairs. He remembered taking a turn on stag after supper, then waking Rossi when it was his turn. Now Rossi was curled up on the sofa; presumably all the beds in the bungalow were already taken. Torrance crossed to the window overlooking the veranda and adjusted the slats of the jalousie so he could peer out. For one awful moment he thought no one was on watch, but then he saw Varma, sitting in a rattan chair in the shadows, his rifle across his lap, eyes bright and alert.
Reassured, Torrance went hunting for the voice. He opened the door it seemed to be coming from and revealed a room he had not noticed the night before, a sort of study. Kitty was perched on the inlaid leather surface of the desk, talking on the telephone in the unlit room, the flames at Kranji casting a warm glow across her face through the window. ‘… No, he’s fine. So’s she… the fiancée… I’m glad to hear it. If you had known about her, and sent me in like that without mentioning it, well that would make you a world-class heel, wouldn’t it?’ Some instinct made her glance over her shoulder, and she saw Torrance standing in the doorway, watching her. She smiled, and gave him a little wave with her free hand.
He pushed the door to behind him. ‘Is that phone still connected?’
‘It’s Torrance,’ she told whoever was on the other end of the line. ‘He wants to know if this phone’s still connected…’ She listened for a moment, then pealed with laughter. ‘Colonel Hamilton says I should tell you I’m a madwoman who often pretends to have conversations on disconnected telephones… and he’d like a word.’ She handed him the receiver.
‘Hullo, hullo, hullo!’ Hamilton’s plummy voice came down the line. ‘Is that you, Corporal?’
‘Yes, sir. I’m afraid Mr Piggott didn’t make it, and Sergeant Cochrane—’
‘Yes, yes, Third Officer Killigrew has told me all that. Now what we’ve got to do is get you all safely back, d’you understand?’
‘All too well.’
‘Good show! Do you have a map to hand?’
‘Er… you’ll have to hold the line, sir.’ Torrance put a hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Can you get me the large-scale map of Singapore from the map case, ma’am?’
Kitty nodded and went out. Returning a moment later, she spread the map on the desk so Torrance could see it, before switching on a torch and handing it to him so he could see it more clearly.
‘Got a map in front of me now, sir.’
‘Can you find the place where you got into the spot you’re in?’
‘Do you mean the—?’
‘Don’t say it! Remember: you never know who’s on the wires. Now… have you any reason to suppose the Japs have worked out how you got into the spot you’re in?’
Torrance supposed he was talking about their crossing of the reservoir behind the golf course. ‘Nagarkar may have told them.’
‘Who?’
‘One of two Indian lads we ran into. He’s gone over to the Japs. I remember he asked how we got through the Jap lines, and Corky – Sar’nt Cochrane, I mean – only went and told him.’
‘That could be awkward. The transport you used to get into that spot… is it where you left it?’
‘Ask me again in about four hours.’
‘Fair enough. Now, when you… come back, don’t come to the place where you set out from, do you understand? I need you to head for a place that’s a mile to the east of there.’
‘A mile to the east?’
‘That’s right. There’s a… well, a place you can park your vehicle and I’ll make sure there’s a friendly reception committee waiting for you. Got that?’
‘I think so, sir.’
‘Good show! Now hold on, old boy, there’s just one other thing. Ever bumped anyone off, Corporal?’
Torrance felt himself flush. ‘I may have killed a Jap or two.’
‘Ever killed a woman?’
‘Certainly not! What d’you take me for?’
‘You may need to, before this business is over. If Third Officer Killigrew falls into Jap hands, that would be an absolute disaster. Honestly, I can’t overstate the case. There are things she knows…’
‘What sort of things?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t let’s get into all that. If I tell you, then I’ll have to speak to one of the men under your command and tell him to bump you off if it looks as though ther
e’s a chance of you falling into Jap hands, and I’m sure none of us want that. D’you get my drift?’
‘I think I do. Does, ah, the individual you’re referring to know how you feel about it?’
‘It’s not a question of feelings, old boy. Cold, hard, merciless military logic is the order of the day. And believe me, I don’t care for it any more than you do. But to answer your question, yes, she knows the score. Well, good luck, and hopefully I’ll see you this afternoon.’ Hamilton rang off. Torrance stared at the receiver in his fist, then replaced it in its cradle.
‘Did Hamilton ask you to kill me?’ asked Kitty. She sounded remarkably calm about it.
‘If there’s a danger of you falling into Jap hands,’ admitted Torrance.
‘He’s right. It’s a deuce of a thing to ask you, I know, and I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t absolutely imperative that I not be taken alive. If you could do it quickly and cleanly, I’d appreciate it, but… well, just make sure the Japs don’t get a chance to torture me.’
Specialist in wireless telegraphy my arse, thought Torrance. ‘Ruddy hell! Don’t they give you people cyanide pills?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that…’
He noticed a calendar on the desk. It was the kind with three hundred and twelve pages – one for each day of the week and one for each weekend – and you tore a page off each morning except for Sundays. The date showing was Tuesday, 10th February. ‘When did you say you pulled out of here?’ he asked Kitty casually.
Torrance: Escape from Singapore Page 20