The Red Pavilion

by Jean Chapman

  He let his sergeant move ahead of him, wondering if he might warn this native arriving at the worst possible moment. Then, emerging from the jungle, he saw not just a Sakai but behind him a tall red-bearded figure. ‘Christ! Cresswell!’ he hissed — and the women must be with them. He fairly danced on the spot for one totally disconcerted moment, then, knowing his sergeant would go on and do his job, he ran towards the party, shouting, ‘Cresswell, bandits ahead. Take cover, and stay down!’

  Turning again, he ran back towards the kampong without any caution now, disregarding the communists’ triplines which activated bundles of tins near the huts. There was shouting ahead, and then the shooting began, with the blood-chilling rattle of automatic fire.

  A man with a gun of some kind came running towards him. Sturgess shot him between the eyes, jumped over his body and ran on, and suddenly he was on the edges of a battle. He dropped to the ground, for gunfire was coming from several of the huts. Mackenzie was obviously trying to edge his men in nearer to the main hut, but even as he did so, Sturgess from his position at ground level saw a burly figure jump from the latrine platform at the back into the river.

  He thought it seemed a fitting outlet for Hou, but then began to fret as he realised his men were pinned down by at least two punishing automatics — one from Hou’s escape but and another from a man who must have been posted as lookout up a tree.

  Raising his Sten gun, Sturgess aimed first at the man in the tree, who was not aware of this latecomer to the action. His burst of fire scattered the foliage and brought the man falling like a gigantic fruit from the boughs. The others could deal with the man in the hut doorway; he wanted the top man.

  He fell back along the path a few yards and made for the river. There was no sign of the man or which way he had gone, but, knowing Hou, it would be away from the trouble. Unfortunately, that was towards where Liz Hammond was.

  The major hoped Cresswell was still keeping everyone hidden, and he hoped the terrorist leader might stay on the far bank, but there were rocky outcrops on that side and Hou knew the area. Sten gun raised ready, the barrel constantly sweeping ahead and across the far side of the river, the major moved quickly.

  Suddenly ahead he saw Cresswell leaping out of the jungle and running away from him, towards where he heard a cry for help, the scream of a girl.

  Sturgess ran into the scene. Hou, hair still streaming from his emergence from the water, held Lee by the hair, her head pulled back, throat exposed. He had a long, thin knife poised at her jugular; in a second she could be dead. Liz Hammond supported an old woman, while two Sakais stood irresolute.

  ‘Drop guns and go back,’ Hou screamed at Cresswell and the major. ‘Drop guns!’ He pressed the knife. Lee made a strange, gurgling scream and a small trickle of blood ran down her neck. ‘Next time!’ Hou promised.

  The two dropped their guns close to their feet, Sturgess lowering his to the ground by its strap. Hou snarled, ‘Kick near! Near me!’

  Sturgess looked at Cresswell, then at his own Sten gun. The two had understood each other before in the home of the Hammonds’ old amah; Sturgess hoped his man understood now. Hoped he remembered a much publicised incident when a soldier had banged on a door with the butt of a Sten gun and the quick-reaction gun had gone off and shot the soldier behind.

  He silently applauded the young man, who pretended to stagger as he went to kick his rifle forwards, giving Sturgess a further few seconds to calculate his move. Cresswell miskicked again; this, Sturgess knew, was as far as any delay could go. Hou growled again and lifted Lee off her feet, but now Cresswell got his foot behind the rifle properly and pushed it forwards towards the communist.

  The animal-like growl was repeated and John knew he could delay no longer. He swung his foot back and kicked the metal butt of the Sten as hard as he could. The gun responded as he had hoped, and fired. In the split second of the shot he was diving forwards, as was Cresswell. The major pushed his hand up with all the calculation of a man trained in both assassination and defence, forcing the knife away from Lee’s throat. He felt the girl pulled away, then Cresswell was on the other side, helping him pin the savage, screaming man down. Suddenly Liz was standing over all three men, holding the Sten gun pointing unwaveringly at Hou’s forehead.

  ‘You’d make a good regular soldier, Cresswell,’ the major said across Hou’s body as they each hung on to one of Heng Hou’s arms. ‘Pleased to see you made it.’

  Alan grinned. ‘Thanks, sir, it is mutual. We’d have walked straight into this lad and his party.’

  The pleasantries having been exchanged, they both realised that Lee was sobbing hysterically and shouting, ‘Kill him! Kill him! I’ll never be safe while he’s alive.’

  ‘He has only to move and I’ll do just that,’ Liz promised. ‘Don’t worry, Lee, he’s going nowhere.’

  Once the group had rounded up the communists left alive and Hou had been secured to Lee’s partial satisfaction, there was quite a reunion.

  Pa Kasut came forward and greeted John Sturgess like a returning prodigal son, and as recognition slowly dawned John stood shaking his head in disbelief.

  ‘It can’t be!’ he exclaimed. ‘The Japs never got you!’ His eyes went then to Bras standing grinning broadly next to him. ‘This is your boy! The young man who — ’

  ‘You save from tank,’ Pa Kasut said, and for a moment the joy of reunion was overlaid by the trauma of a remembered incident. ‘Now we save this man for you.’ He indicated Alan.

  ‘Yes,’ Sturgess said simply. He took stock of the tall, red-bearded young man with a long flash of white mixed in with his darker hair and he saw a man, old in experience, pain — and love, he thought, looking from him to Liz, who stood close by his side. He could sense that their togetherness was unassailable. He held out his hand to Alan and wondered whether he deserved to have the younger man take it.

  Alan did not smile but he did take the hand offered to him. ‘Sir,’ he said gently. Sturgess shook it hard, then, turning, put his free hand on the old Sakai’s shoulder and announced to the assembled group, ‘Of course you know what Pa Kasut means — it’s “Old Boot”, tough as old boots! That’s how this jungle hero got his name.’

  Liz was surprised when, after they had all smoked together, the Sakais prepared to go back to their hill camp. She had not expected to part with their company so soon. They stood in line to shake hands and bid them goodbye. She felt a great affection for them and knew there was nothing she or Alan could ever do to repay them. They had nothing the Sakais needed. Sturgess gave them a tin of cigarettes, which Pa Kasut gave to Sardin — he of the trip to the cinema, Liz remembered.

  As they set out again, Lee insisted on always walking behind the prisoners, so as to be sure Heng Hou was secure. She got a little braver as they neared the main roads, pulling at his ropes to be sure they were still tight.

  ‘His growl has gone now,’ she said triumphantly, ‘now he just ... ’ She skipped in front of him, glowered and pulled faces at him to Ch’ing’s consternation and disapproval.

  ‘I’ll feel happier when he’s in gaol where he belongs,’ Liz said grimly, wondering if the terrorist would be taken to the same gaol where George Harfield was incarcerated. It would be a strange irony.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘Mem.’

  Blanche looked up from where she was writing to Wendy, communicating without giving away the fact that she was totally alone at Rinsey except for Anna. She recognised it as the same kind of letter she had written to the girls when they were at school and university during the previous war, concealing appalling anxiety.

  ‘How well do you think Wendy would remember Joan and Aubrey?’ she asked.

  ‘Mem, it’s the manager from the mine at Bukit Kinta.’

  ‘George!’ She rose, her heart thudding.

  ‘No, mem.’ Anna shook her head in swift correction. ‘No, mem.’ She consulted a card she now handed over. ‘Mr Ira Cook.’

  Of course, the rather acned y
oung man she had last encountered when she and Liz had fetched George’s possessions. How ridiculous! she told herself. How could it possibly have been George? And what the hell did this individual want of her?

  She scowled at Anna, who now shook her head at her as if she was a child and should behave herself. Blanche raised her eyebrows in irritated acquiescence and Anna hurried out.

  ‘Come in, won’t you?’ Blanche called as he appeared in the doorway. ‘Mr Cook.’ She made a movement that could have been the beginning of a handshake or a gesture of general welcome.

  Mr Cook kept hold of his stiff, white, tropical trilby with both hands. He was thinner, she thought, and his spots were somewhat improved. Knocked off, she wondered, for he put her in mind of a scrawny young cockerel who, in his white and ruffled feathers, looked as if he’d lost out to an older cock.

  ‘Some tea?’ she asked as he still did not speak and she began to feel impatient with this hat-spinning young man. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Well, sit down, for God’s sake, or we’ll both be fidgety.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Blanche waited, fascinated, as she perceived beads of sweat breaking out on the man’s forehead. He appeared to be seething with inner agitations. He should never have come out here, she decided, he should be teaching juniors in some downtown school in New York.

  ‘How’re things?’ she asked.

  ‘Terrible, Mrs Hammond, terrible.’ He squirmed in his chair as if incapable of finding a comfortable spot. ‘I’ve come to ask for your help. I know you visit Mr Harfield.’ He looked at her with such an intense, searching examination that she did not answer immediately when he asked, ‘Is he well? Mr Harfield. Really well, I mean.’

  ‘As well as any innocent man can be, locked away.’ She let her voice trail off into query and as he looked up at her she thought for a moment he was going to burst into tears.

  ‘I’m being used, Mrs Hammond,’ he burst out. ‘I’m definitely being used!’

  His almost girlish petulance made her want to reply that she was not surprised, but she was wondering whether in his paradoxical visit there could be some further lead, some thread of information, that might help George. She could be very patient to that end.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ she said in as dulcet tones as she could feign.

  ‘All the employees’ records have been stolen.’

  The prissiness of his way of speaking did not distract Blanche from appreciating the implications of this event.

  ‘I have no accurate way of checking who actually works for me anymore, and so many of them look alike to me.’ He moved in small, negative jerks as he spoke. ‘Odd men have arrived from time to time and I’m told tales about them having been on leave. Other families have left in the night — just gone.’

  ‘Who tells you these tales and which families have gone?’ The prissiness almost became a pout as he admitted, ‘The girl, Li Min. Then they have parties, drunken parties.’

  Blanche was steely-eyed with attention now. ‘Li Min! And the families that have gone?’

  ‘I’ve been checking and it’s all the relatives of Mr Harfield’s former headman, Rasa — his sons and their families. All good workers at first.’

  ‘Rasa’s family,’ she said slowly. ‘George had great faith in them all. They would know who worked at the mine.’

  Blanche waited; there was more than this, she was sure from his manner. He had some other humiliation locked up and battling to come out.

  ‘George came to believe he had harboured some fanatical communists, the girl one of them — but proving it?’ It was her turn to move a little uneasily as she went on, ‘I have no proof of what I am about to say, but I never liked the cook at Bukit Kinta, Li Kim.’ She paused to give an ironic laugh. ‘It may be, of course, only because his name is so like the girl’s, Li Min.’

  ‘He above anyone would know my movements for the day,’ Ira pondered. ‘That could explain a lot. He also seems to know when to take messages — I mean, he seemed to know when I didn’t wish to be disturbed.’

  There was a curious change of tense there. So he didn’t mind being disturbed now. What had he given up?

  ‘I think, Mr Cook, if you want my help you had better tell me everything.’

  He seemed to screw his hat and himself into a tense round ball, bending so low his forehead nearly touched his knees. ‘When didn’t you want to be disturbed?’

  His shoulders gave a convulsive shudder.

  ‘Ira!’ she demanded. ‘When didn’t you want to be disturbed?’

  He mumbled something.

  ‘When?’ she demanded.

  ‘When I was with Li Min.’

  Ah! Now we have it, she thought. So your gallantry and politeness have dug you in deep. What a baby you are!

  ‘And I caught a full house!’

  There was a moment’s silence while Blanche recalled what the phrase meant: he had both syphilis and gonorrhoea.

  She thought her first impression of him had been right — a very dishevelled cockerel indeed! She could have extracted some humour from this ... if she had had anyone to share it with.

  ‘You’ve been to — ’ She was going to say ‘the hospital’, but he interrupted.

  ‘Rose Cottage — yes.’

  ‘Yes,’ she repeated, thinking he seemed to know all the right slang expressions but hadn’t the sense to avoid the diseases.

  ‘So you want me to ask George to make a list of all his former employees?’

  ‘I do. I’m going to do my darnedest to root these commies out.’ He looked up at her now. He had told all, kept the tears at bay, and there was a resolution in his tormented face which made her understand perhaps why he had been appointed manager at Bukit Kinta.

  ‘Right.’ She sat down opposite him, businesslike, on his level, offering partnership. ‘But we have to be careful. We mustn’t do anything to make them suspicious. Above all, we want them to stay at Bukit Kinta, make them feel secure until we’ve organised a pounce.’

  ‘OK,’ he agreed. ‘Shall I ring ... ?’

  ‘No, I will. As soon as I have the list I’ll ring you just casually and you ask me over for a meal. The day I’m coming, you immediately send Li Kim to the market with as long a list as you can think of. I’ll come over while Li Kim’s out of the way to tell you what has been arranged, and I’ll bring George’s list.’

  ‘OK, then we take it from there,’ he said, standing up, taller and shoulders squarer than when he had entered. ‘I don’t suppose you feel like shaking my hand?’

  ‘My dear boy,’ Blanche exclaimed, shooting out her hand, ‘to err is human, to tackle it takes courage.’

  ‘I’d value your friendship,’ he said.

  ‘You have it,’ she confirmed.

  George was solemn when she told him. Any glimmer of humour in the situation would, she supposed, hardly be seen by a man who was imprisoned at the hands of the same girl. He was silent, brooding. She thought of Joan with a sense of loss, yearning for someone with whom she could share the joke.

  ‘You don’t suppose not having either syphilis or gonorrhoea would be considered grounds for an appeal?’ he said after some time.

  She laughed gratefully wanting to throw her arms around his neck. ‘My dear, dear man!’

  ‘She must have just about eaten that boy alive. He came straight from the New York office, you know. Poor little sod! He’s been to — ’

  ‘Rose Cottage,’ she interrupted.

  A twinkle showed in his eye as he asked, ‘And what do you know about such expressions?’

  ‘Neville often talked to me as if I was one of the boys when he was on leave from the navy. I knew all about “band in the box”, “cold in the dong”, “horse and trap”.’

  ‘Do you mind, woman! I’m beginning to feel either embarrassed or educated, not sure which.’

  ‘Yes, all right, sorry!’ But she rejoiced in the spark of real laughter that had come to his eyes. ‘About Neville, promise me you’ll never mind me
talking about him. He was my first, but now my past love ... ’ She paused and stretched out her hand to his. ‘You are my love now.’

  ‘And he loved her as he never loved before.’ The spirit in the beginning of the sentence did not last until the end; his eyes slid away from her as he added bitterly, ‘Of course, he may be too old to love at all by the time he gets out of here.’

  ‘If that’s how it is to be, OK, we’ll take it. It’s not so much longer than many women waited for their men through the war. At least I know you’re safe in here!’

  ‘Safe and sound.’ His voice rang with deep irony.

  ‘Having Ira Cook on our side might, just might, bring some kind of breakthrough. Do the list, George. I’ll ask for special permission to come and collect it — not wait for the next visiting day. And if you can think of anything else we can do … ’

  ‘It can’t be long before Robbo comes back,’ he said.

  ‘But the Dyak tracker we found murdered?’

  ‘Not worried about that! Robbo’s good in the jungle. If a message could be sent to him so he and the police could lay siege to Bukit Kinta before anyone knew he was back ... ’ He bit his lip as he thought the idea through. ‘If word gets out that he’s back in the area, particularly with the girl Lee as a witness, every CT in the area will go to ground.’

  She nodded solemn agreement.

  ‘Robbo could be maintaining radio silence ... ’ He looked across at her, his eyes full of speculation. ‘But if there’s any information about where he might be, Chemor could be sent in. He’ll find them if anyone can, and divert them straight to Bukit Kinta — the whole shebang of them — that way there’ll not be time for rumours to fly.’

  George’s face was grim now, the muscles in his cheeks flexing and unflexing as he clenched his teeth. ‘If only I were out of this place so I could be some use!’

  ‘You still don’t realise, do you?’ Blanche leaned forwards over the table.