“So you wanted revenge.”
“Atkinson had them shot outside Tanglin Barracks as an example. I was there, you know. I saw those three men murdered. Atkinson ordered his men to do it but they wouldn’t so he did it himself.”
His voice quavered. After a pause he continued: “Atkinson was just a captain in those days, but I recognized him. I’ll never forget the face of the man who executed my father and uncle.”
“Weren’t you worried the colonel would recognize your name?”
He laughed a hollow laugh then. “I was more concerned you had seen the names on the photograph on my desk. But my father and uncle spelled their name Rahamaan…”
“Is that the rifle he used?” I said, nodding towards the one leaning against the wall.
“The same make with bullets designed for big game. The men took a long time to die; blood loss through the many holes. An arm and a leg blown clean off. It was a barbaric way to kill someone. And they leave the wall there like…” the inspector choked with the emotion and his voice trailed off with, “…like it’s a proud memorial.”
I waited for him to compose himself. He sat up a bit straighter and gave a flicker of a smile.
“The key…” I said. “You copied it. I noticed a tiny bit of clay.”
He nodded slightly.
I asked, “When? How?”
“At the shop-house when you went into the attic.”
“Why take that risk? I thought the police had a copy.”
“Historically the chief has had one and my original plan was to take that. But it was safer to copy yours rather than ask for our copy.”
Now that I had him talking, there was something else I wanted confirmed.
I said, “Tai Tai was the contact, not the Japanese security man. She had a buyer, a customer at the House of Tokyo.”
Rahman said nothing.
“That was you. You were a member. When I met you there you were talking to the madam.”
“Before I got promoted I had been there undercover.”
“At the time you said you didn’t speak the language but you do. You told her to keep quiet and to only give the mah-jong tile list to you—so I wouldn’t see your name.”
“Yes.”
“It was five wheels, wasn’t it? That’s why the madam said it. She wasn’t giving us an example of a tile, she was getting back at you. You led us to a drug dealer and made it look like he was the buyer of the guns. Kim never confessed to anything, did he? Because he was never involved.”
Rahman said nothing.
“The madam knew you were a member but Aiko and Tai Tai knew you had the guns. So, you had to get rid of them, didn’t you?”
He swallowed and, after a pause, said, “I didn’t know how much Aiko knew and I never intended anyone else to get hurt.”
“Like I said, things got messy. Even the best plans get messy.”
“How did you realize?”
“I thought Tai Tai was the key to this, if only she would talk. You were the only one who knew. You couldn’t risk her waking up and talking to me.”
Rahman’s eyes narrowed. He said, “Are you going to shoot me?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” I said, and it was the truth.
“So I want to kill Atkinson. It’s revenge, plain and simple. Like I suspect you took in Palestine. Are we really that different, Ash?”
“Yes.”
He glanced at the rifle and I wondered whether he considered trying to use it before I shot him. I doubted it.
He looked back at me.
I said, “You killed innocent people to cover your tracks.”
He laughed then and said, “I bet you—”
But he didn’t finish the sentence. There was a clatter. The light went out and the table overturned, knocking me backwards. My chair tipped me over and I sprawled in the darkness.
When I looked up, Rahman had the door open. He hadn’t locked it and now he was getting away.
I pulled out my revolver and fired three rapid shots, but too late.
The door shut again plunging me into darkness.
SIXTY-FOUR
Shining my torch around, I saw the rifle on the floor. I also saw how Rahman had killed the lights. There was a handle, low down on the wall: a switch between mains and backup generator electricity. He must have tested it. That’s when the lights had flickered.
I opened the door and scanned the courtyard.
Had he gone for Atkinson in the house? Rahman didn’t know where he was hiding and the building was still in darkness.
He wouldn’t head for the gate. So where?
Then I heard it: a metallic squeak that took me a second to figure what it was: the sally port. That’s how he’d got in. That’s where he’d gone.
I sprinted to the gate. It was shut but unlocked.
I pulled it open and crouched through the aperture. The air was dank and musty. Far off I heard the sound of feet on stone. I shone my torch and found a flight of steps descending into the blackness beyond my light’s reach.
I went down as fast as I could, my free hand over my head to feel the ceiling.
Twice I almost fell but jammed my elbow against a side wall to stop myself.
At the bottom I had to crouch. It was probably five and a half feet high and difficult. But I tried to run. I used the torch handle on my head like a miner’s lamp to make sure I didn’t hit my head.
I lost track of time. Maybe I’d been running for five minutes. Maybe longer. I stopped and listened. The tunnel wasn’t straight so I couldn’t see more than thirty yards ahead but I thought I could hear the scuff of Rahman’s feet. The air was also fresher. As I ran again I noticed a sound like bones scraping and rolling over one another.
And then I heard other sounds: the creaking of metal and a clang.
I pressed on and saw the faintest of lights ahead. The sound of rattling bones echoed around me and I realized it must be the sea, crashing on the rocks, echoing through the passage.
The end of the tunnel. Then I found a discarded jacket. It appeared to be a police uniform so I figured Rahman probably had a change of clothes waiting for him.
I could taste the salt air as I crouched lower and was then on all fours until I reached an exit gate. A padlock held it tight shut. Rahman had shut and locked it. That’s what I’d heard in the tunnel.
Although I figured the lock was new, the gate looked ancient with rust.
I squirmed around, lay on my back and kicked as hard as I could. The gate creaked and came away from its frame. With a heave, I managed to create a space wide enough to squirm through.
When I stepped onto rocks I realized I was on the coast, close to the Stamford Canal. The passage had come under the cathedral and the Padang. The fair was right in front of me. There were so many torches it was like daylight. And Rahman was walking casually, less than fifty yards away, between stalls towards the Ferris wheel. Maybe he thought he had more time. Maybe he thought I’d be less likely to spot him walking in a different jacket and carrying a suitcase.
Glancing over his shoulder, he could see I was rapidly closing the gap and began to run. He appeared to be heading for the densest section of crowds. But they soon impeded his progress and then I lost him for a moment. When I spotted him again he’d switched directions, keeping to the less crowded routes between stalls.
As we raced east across the Padang I lost ground when the crowds got in the way. When they thinned, I closed the gap again.
I was less than twenty paces from him when he tore through a tent selling fabrics. The poles collapsed and rolls of bright material fell like flags in the wind. Customers spilled left and right, blocking my way.
I could no longer see him. I climbed onto a table and scanned the crowd.
He’d put on a fedora and was walking again, but I recognized his shape and brown jacket. He was going in the direction of the river.
I leapt from the table and started running again. At first he seemed to be heading for the h
ead of the river, maybe one of the bridges there. Then, as he saw me chasing him again, he switched right along North Boat Quay.
People were thick along the quay. The official fireworks would be by the monument at Empress Place. We were heading in the opposite direction, against the flow. There were also food stalls and dancers along here. I kept losing him, slowed by the throng of bodies.
“Military Police!” I yelled hoping people would get out of my way and ploughed through the gaps.
We passed Elgin Bridge and then he did the same trick with a stall, grabbing hold of a tent pole and pulling the whole thing over. The crowd reacted. There was a moment of chaos and my route was blocked. By the time I could move again he was nowhere to be seen. I ran on and got to Coleman Bridge.
There I stopped, breathing hard, and scanned ahead for anyone running. And then I caught sight of someone walking in the shadow of a godown on the opposite side.
I crossed and ran to where I’d seen him. There were few people and no stalls here but neither were there any lights. I checked each alleyway as well as wharf ahead. Not a sign. I didn’t think Rahman could have made it to the next bridge without me seeing him again.
I went to the edge of the quay and looked up and down. There were stone steps leading down into the water. Tongkangs and bumboats were strung across the river for the night. Hundreds of them.
And then I spotted him below, crouched in a boat.
I pulled out my gun, aimed it at him and shouted, “Stop there or I’ll shoot!”
Rahman looked at me for a second then scrambled into the next boat, rolling to get away from any shot.
I rushed down the steps and leapt into the nearest tongkang. I almost fell as the craft jolted beneath me. I grabbed the side and almost dropped my gun. But I didn’t stop. I ran and leapt to the next boat.
Rahman was also moving. He stepped lightly across from his boat onto the next. He seemed an expert in balancing on the flat bottomed boats. I tried to copy his style but he moved swiftly and much faster than my clumsy efforts. If he got to the other side too far ahead of me, he could disappear into the warehouses beyond.
I made a decision. Rather than cross carefully, I threw myself from boat to boat, lurching and jumping, jumping and lurching.
I was getting closer.
Rahman turned at the sound I made as boats crashed side by side. The ripples caused by my approach rocked Rahman’s boat. He missed his footing and fell partially into the water.
By the time he recovered, I was just one boat behind.
Rahman reached the steps on the far side.
I stepped on the prow of the last boat and launched myself at him. Just as he reached the top, I caught Rahman’s heel knocking it sideways. He stumbled.
I landed heavily on the steps. Winded, I launched myself again and swiped Rahman’s legs as he tried to stand.
I scrambled over him. We were both breathing heavily.
Sprawled on the floor, Rahman pushed himself up with his left arm and I guessed unnatural angle of his other meant it was broken.
As Rahman struggled up I saw that he a revolver in his good hand.
I aimed my gun at him in return.
“Give up, Anand.”
“You could let me get away. I have tickets for the cruise ship at Clifford Pier.”
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
“But Atkinson is a murderer. If you were me—”
“I wouldn’t have killed the girl.”
There was a percussion of explosions and the sky was lit with multiple colours.
“The finale,” he said.
Above the noise of the celebration I heard police whistles. I saw lights bobbing towards us as men ran with torches.
“I could shoot you,” he said.
I held out my other hand for his gun and said, “Put the gun down and come quietly.”
“This isn’t justice.” Tears ran freely and his aim dropped a few inches. “Atkinson murdered those loyal men. It was brutal.”
I thought he would release his weapon so I went to take the gun. I sensed other men around me now. I could see police with their guns pointed at the inspector but there was also a gang of Chinese who I thought seemed familiar. Yipp’s or White-eye’s men probably.
“Happy New Year,” Rahman said with no feeling.
When I realized what was happening it was already too late. The inspector swiftly raised the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot echoed off the warehouses but was lost in the sound from across the city.
The firework show reached a crescendo of flashes and bangs. And then for a moment there was silence before the clamour began again as the people returned to focus on enjoying the celebration, to eating and drinking, to gambling and fortune-telling, to dreaming of a bright and prosperous future.
SIXTY-FIVE
I promised a full report in the morning and just walked away. No one tried to stop me.
I collected my suitcases from Queens and walked to Raffles Hotel. Although the bar and street outside were alive with revellers, I felt a strange emptiness. I was free from Secretary Coates but it had not been a satisfying conclusion. Not yet anyway. I would spend one more night here—enjoy the luxury of Raffles and then leave. Where to? I still hadn’t decided. Maybe I’d go to Changi Airfield and hitch a ride on a military plane. Go to wherever it was headed.
My new room wasn’t a disappointment but cost almost double what The Queens was charging. The mattress was so comfortable that I don’t remember falling asleep and it was midmorning by the time I woke up. Clearly, I’d had some sleep to catch up on.
I went out for a run and took the road east, past Yipp’s warehouse, past Kallang and along the coast road until my lungs burned. Then I turned around and pushed myself harder.
Back at the hotel I showered, put on my suit and then strolled to the police station.
It was the first time of my many visits that I hadn’t asked for Inspector Rahman, which felt odd. The foyer was as busy and hot as ever, as though nothing had changed. It was just another day. However I could tell from the desk sergeant’s eyes that it wasn’t. And then the senior officer who took my statement looked the same. Neither voiced their feelings but there was a sense of loss and confusion. What had happened? Why had the inspector shot himself?
During my run, I’d thought long and hard about what I was going to say. I decided to keep it simple. I said Rahman had seen his father executed by Colonel Atkinson ten years ago and had wanted to confront the colonel. I didn’t say that he had caused the explosion on Tank Road. Instead, I explained that he had taken advantage of the attack to visit the colonel at the fort. I didn’t mention why I was waiting for him and my deductions. I said nothing about buying the guns as a distraction to get Atkinson where he wanted him. Nor did I mention Aiko or Tai Tai. It was superfluous information I decided.
I just said that I’d explained the colonel’s remorse and that Rahman had had a change of heart. He couldn’t go through with the plan and I supposed he took his life because the hatred had kept him going for so many years.
My rationale for doing this? The best I can do is to say I had found myself liking the guy. Yes, he’d been manipulative but he had been right. We weren’t that different. And I very much doubt I would have shot him.
So, in my version, he hadn’t done anything wrong except consider confronting his father’s executioner. This way, I figured, at least his family would get his pension.
Whether or not the police officer believed me, he didn’t say. He just wrote my statement down and asked me to sign it.
He told me they were holding my service revolver as evidence and would return it to 200 Provost Company in a few days. The fact that I didn’t have a weapon any more suited my plans fine.
I should have gone to see Vernon and given him a report as well but I decided against it. As far as I was concerned, it was over. I was out of the army—for a second time in three weeks. I thought about going to s
ee Hedge and Robbo to say goodbye but I didn’t. Instead I decided to walk the streets of Singapore for one last time, to soak up the atmosphere partially, but mostly to prepare myself for what was to come.
SIXTY-SIX
There were just two things I needed to do. I went to The Red Lion and tied a strip of my black armband to both of the lanterns outside, just in case one fell off or was removed. My second thing was to find the club where Su Ling had taken me, the place where we’d spent the night in each other’s arms.
I found a Chinese boy cleaning tables and gave him a note I’d written for her. He understood that it was important she got the message and I gave him ten shillings to seal the bargain.
It had gone ten o’clock and I had been waiting in Yipp’s Rochor warehouse for over an hour when I heard someone at the doors. The pedestrian section creaked open and the lights came on.
“Are you sure?” Pantelis said and I slunk back into the shadows.
Angel laughed and pulled on his hand. “Come on. You said you wanted a bit of excitement.”
She led him towards the office where I’d been bound and left by Su Ling. I could see from his face that he was half unsure, half aroused.
“In this room,” she said.
“The stuff’s in there?”
She laughed again. “That and more, sexy!”
The lure of sex was so great, so easy. I knew I’d fallen for it myself and here was Pantelis, in a remote place he didn’t know with a lady-boy who’d been paid by me.
As instructed, she encouraged him into the office ahead of her and then shut the door. But she was on the outside and she turned the key I’d left in the lock.
“Well done!” I said, emerging from my hiding place.
“The rest of the money,” she said without preamble, holding out her delicate hand.
Once she had the cash she ran for the warehouse exit, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. At the same moment, Pantelis started to hammer on the door. His shouts turning from anger to panic in a matter of seconds.
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