by Rosanna Ley
Maya bowed her head. In the corner of the room little Suu was sleeping and she didn’t want her to wake and be noticed. If the officer looked closely, he might see and he might suspect. Maya could not risk it. However, neither did she want to give the Japanese their precious food.
She opened the cupboard. ‘We have very little,’ she murmured. Pray to Buddha that he did not find their emergency store of condensed milk, soup and rice. ‘What we have is for the sick.’
The officer turned up his nose in distaste. ‘Why do you stay here in this town?’ His gaze roved around the room. ‘A woman like you?’
Maya moved quickly, placing herself between him and the corner of the room in which the baby was sleeping. What did he mean, a woman like you? ‘It is everyone’s duty to do something,’ she said. ‘And I like to help the wounded.’
‘British soldiers?’ he sneered.
‘Any soldiers.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘We have Indian soldiers here and Chinese. And civilians too. Refugees. We do not differentiate.’
‘Then you are fools.’ He spat. ‘You should learn where you will be looked after. If you can nurse, we need you at our hospital, not here tending to traitors.’
Maya thought quickly. ‘I am not a nurse,’ she said. ‘Just an ordinary woman doing what she can.’
His gaze raked her from head to toe. ‘Not so ordinary.’ He licked his lips.
Maya felt her throat go dry and her legs weak. She had been warned of this. They both had. When the colonel had left, he had given her a .38 pistol with which to protect herself and she had it even now, tucked into the belt of her longyi at the back, hidden under the loose blouse she wore. But would she have any idea how to use it?
‘Come.’ He beckoned her closer.
Maya took a small step towards him, though all she wanted to do was run. In the next room, the ward, she would be safe for a while. He would not try anything when there were other people around. But how could she run anywhere when her baby was in here? She could not leave her. And anyhow, she would not be safe for long. She understood the mentality of the Japanese soldiers by now and she knew how they felt about honour and respect. If she humiliated this man in any way, he would never forget it. He would seek her out and she and the baby would never be safe. But if she complied …
He reached out, tilted her chin, sharply, and Maya looked up and over his shoulder. Do not wake, my child … He ran his fingers over her blouse, lingering at the buttons on the neck and then down towards her waist and the belt of her longyi. What if he felt the gun? She thought her heart would stop beating. ‘Not here,’ she whispered.
He cocked his head, surprised. Maya guessed that many women would die rather than be raped, especially by the enemy. She wasn’t sure she counted herself in that category. She felt differently about her own survival since she’d had her child; the survival of each was linked. But her first priority was to get him out of the storeroom.
But just as she thought she might have achieved her aim, just as she saw the desire flare in his eyes, and as he gripped hold of her arms, Suu whimpered in her sleep, half-waking, and he blinked, pushed Maya out of the way. He stared down at the baby. ‘Your child?’ he demanded roughly.
‘Yes.’ She nodded. Maybe now she’d have to please him. Maybe now she’d have no choice. Lawrence, she thought, where are you now?
She resumed her position in front of the baby and put a hand on his arm. ‘What do you like?’ She heard herself saying it and hated herself. But she had to stop him looking at the child.
Once again, his surprise showed in his eyes.
But she had made an error of judgment and she saw that straightaway.
‘You are a tart?’ He sounded quite dispassionate now. ‘What do you do it for? Money? Food? Jewels?’
She should have been more subtle. She should have thought. ‘I am not a tart,’ she said, speaking more loudly than she’d intended.
‘Just looking out for yourself, is that it?’ He eyed her curiously in his detached manner, his lust seeming to have abruptly dissipated. Perhaps it was the sight of the little one. In Maya’s limited experience, men didn’t much appreciate being reminded that sex might be connected with child-bearing. ‘Or are you looking out for the child?’
Dear Buddha, but he was sharp. Maya decided that honesty might be the best policy with this man. ‘I need to protect her,’ she said simply. ‘She is innocent. She has done no wrong. And she is all I have.’
He pushed past her again and moved closer to the makeshift cradle. He frowned. ‘This is your husband’s baby?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ The Japanese, she reminded herself, were strong on honour.
‘And your husband is of your race?’
‘Yes.’ Maya began to pray, silently. Holy Buddha, keep us safe, let him not see …
‘And he is where?’
‘He died in Mandalay.’ She answered quickly, not giving herself precious time to think.
He pulled her roughly towards him. She could smell him. Rancid and sour. ‘Shall I tell you what I think?’ He leered.
‘Yes. Of course.’ With some difficulty, Maya maintained her dignity.
Once again he put his hand to the collar of her blouse. ‘I think that you are a tart,’ he said. He pulled sharply and tore open the thin fabric so that her breasts were exposed.
It was all that Maya could do to just stand there in front of him. She let out a small gasp, grabbed the remnants of her blouse and held them to her breast. But she could hardly hide herself from his greedy gaze.
His eyes narrowed. ‘I think you have slept with a European.’ He pulled the torn blouse away from her again. ‘Which was a stupid thing to do. That child is half-white. There is no doubt.’
‘It is not true,’ Maya whispered. ‘She is Burmese. It is not true.’
‘Ah.’ He leaned closer and tapped his nose. ‘But I see that it is true. The child is half-caste.’
She watched his expression as he looked from her to the sleeping child. She watched it change from greed to distaste to anger. She knew that the Japanese had a reputation for thoughtless cruelty and indifference to the suffering of others. That was part of their philosophy and it was one of the characteristics that made them so dangerous, and such strong warriors, for they carried that philosophy through to their own rank and file. How could she save them both? It was a moment in time that seemed to freeze. She dared not speak, hardly even breathe. Annie would say that the entire Japanese nation should not be judged by the actions of some individuals. But all Maya could see was the man before her.
In an instant he moved two steps to the cradle and wrenched Cho Suu Kyi from her resting place. The child blinked, opened her mouth and wailed.
He held her at arm’s length. ‘You are a traitor.’ His eyes had gone quite mad. ‘You are a murderous traitor.’ He was speaking to Maya but looking at the child with an expression of such pure hatred, it sent a cold sliver of fear through Maya’s heart and mind. He was holding her baby as if he might fling her to the floor.
Maya made a snap decision. Her first instinct was to fly at him. But he was holding Cho Suu Kyi high and out of reach, and if she tried to wrest the child from him, Suu could fall, or he could simply push Maya aside and do what he wished. She had no option. The gun was in her hand before she could think twice.
She had taken him by surprise yet again and for a second he simply stared at her in disbelief. But pointing a gun at the man wasn’t enough. She knew what he would do. She took aim with the instinct of a mother who knows exactly where is true. And she fired.
The explosion was deafening and she reeled back from the kick. Then she dropped the pistol to the floor, leapt forwards and, as he fell, she grabbed her child from his arms.
‘What is happening here? What in God’s name is going on?’ Matron Annie was standing in the doorway. She looked from the Japanese officer who was clutching his chest, blood seeping from a wound, to Maya, huddled in the corner cradling her sobbing child. She
looked at the pistol lying on the ground between them. She took a step towards Maya. ‘The little one …?’
‘She is fine.’ Maya let out a long breath, in a shudder. ‘I had to do it,’ she said.
‘Yes.’ Matron Annie dropped to her knees and felt the pulse of his neck.
But Maya knew already that he was dead. She had killed a man. And suddenly she was shaking uncontrollably. She had killed a man …
‘We must get rid of the body without delay.’ Matron Annie’s organisational skills came swiftly to the fore. ‘Put the little one down. You must help me get him into the trench.’
Of course she was right. There was only one other Japanese soldier here at the moment and, with a bit of luck, he wasn’t within earshot, but many more of them would soon be approaching. She could almost hear the sound of their army boots tramping through the jungle. And how many of them would see her baby and doubt Suu’s parentage? How could she possibly protect her from them all? Maya could hardly bear to let go of Suu, not even for a moment. She had killed a man …
‘First things first,’ Matron Annie said briskly, indicating the dead Japanese soldier.
They took a leg each and dragged him out of the back door, checking the coast was clear before heaving him towards the small slit trench, leaving a trail of blood on the dusty ground. ‘One, two, three,’ said Matron and they hefted him in, watched the body fall to the ground, literally a dead weight, limbs splaying awkwardly to each side as it landed.
Maya realised that once again she was sobbing, wild sounds that seemed to come from somewhere else outside of her body. What had she done? She had never wanted to hurt anybody, it was against all the teachings to take a life. How could she have done it? And yet she knew how. She had done it because she and her baby were in danger.
‘You had no choice,’ Matron Annie said gruffly and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘Come on. We don’t have time for tears.’
And that was what they had come to, thought Maya. Having no time for tears.
Together, they collected firewood and kerosene, all the time looking out for the soldier’s companion. ‘He’s probably looting the houses,’ Matron Annie said with a shrug.
No doubt she was right. The Chinese soldiers who had come here only days before had been the same. They spoke of loyalty and they were supposed to be Allies, but all they cared for was what wealth they could find.
They piled the firewood over the body, working swiftly until they were both drenched with sweat, and then doused the wood with the kerosene. Although the flames caught and burnt the wood, the body remained virtually untouched, so they repeated the process again and then again until the body was unrecognisable. They piled on leaves and other rubbish and eventually the corpse burned and turned into a blackened mess that made Maya sick to the core as she looked at it. It could have been anything but it had been a man. Hurriedly, they dug up the earth and filled in the trench, raking over the soil and even the earth of the compound which had been stained with his blood. Maya knew they had to remove all the evidence or they would be dead for sure and it would all have been for nothing.
The Japanese were interested in total conquest of the Far East. A woman and a child, or two women and a child would not be allowed to get in their way. Their lives would mean nothing.
*
Maya made her preparations for sleep. She must put that experience behind her, as she had done so many times. Nevertheless, it haunted her and perhaps it always would. She prayed to the Lord Buddha that she might have to relive it no more. But how many experiences had Lawrence put behind him, she wondered. How much blood had stained his hands? She supposed that she would never know.
As she fell asleep she thought once more of Eva, that lovely girl and her grandson Ramon. What had happened between them? They were both unhappy, she could see. But it was not her affair. She would not interfere as her father had interfered between her and Lawrence, no good could come of that. She would wait and the right pathway would be revealed. That was the way that things must be.
CHAPTER 45
The following morning was as hot and humid as ever. After a somewhat disturbed sleep following the dramas of the night before, Eva got up late and went to the internet café to check her emails and send some more information to Jacqui. What else could she do at this stage but continue her work as planned? She was being paid by the Emporium to be out here, at least for part of the time. She still had the contact Klaus had given her to follow up, but she couldn’t face that this morning. And it was too early now, but later she must phone her grandfather to tell him about Cho Suu Kyi. She wanted him to know. But how would he react? Would it be too much for him? Perhaps she should tell her mother instead, let her decide if he was well enough to hear the news, although she guessed it would be traumatic for her too. She decided not to tell either of them about the break-in, no need for them to start worrying over nothing. And she wouldn’t send them any pictures of the family, not yet. She wanted to be with them, she wanted to see her grandfather’s face.
Ramon was waiting for her in the lobby when she returned. ‘Come to our house for lunch,’ he said. ‘I have something I want to show you.’
Not another long lost relative or vintage British car, she hoped. But she nodded and followed him outside. Perhaps now she’d find out the truth.
The house Ramon shared with Cho Suu Kyi and Maya was large by Mandalay standards, painted blue, pink and white, with a latticed balcony, blue shutters and a large verandah. The garden was small but there was a banana tree, a red flowering sein pan and some oleander and purple hibiscus. It was exotic and vivid and didn’t seem to belong to the city at all.
Ramon showed her first into his own apartment which was an annex attached to the main building. The room they entered was small and almost bare, apart from an embroidered tapestry on the white wall, the depiction of a golden dragon, which made Eva give a little shiver. There was a low red chaise longue with blankets folded beside it, and the floor, she noted, was a gorgeous teak parquet. It was strange to be standing in his house, in his room.
Eva couldn’t relax. She turned to him. ‘Now will you tell me?’ she asked. ‘About the crate?’
‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘I spoke to Wai Yan this morning.’
‘And what did he say?’
Ramon regarded her gravely. ‘That he knew nothing about it.’
‘But—’
‘Hush, Eva. Please.’ He made a gesture of invitation and led the way through to a small adjoining dining room where a low wooden table was set for tea. Around the table was an assortment of embroidered and beaded cushions, each one more vibrant than its neighbour. He indicated that they should sit. ‘I saw the fear in his eyes,’ he said.
What did he mean exactly? Eva waited.
‘He knew something. He was scared. He did not want me to look in the warehouse, to investigate further.’
‘But you did,’ she breathed. She let herself sink into the cushions. They were very comfortable. She had known that man was hiding something, even when Ramon had first introduced him. She guessed that the warehouse was very much his domain. Ramon probably rarely even went over there unannounced. She exhaled with relief. Which might mean that he knew nothing at all about that crate.
‘I did.’
‘And?’
‘I found another crate not belonging to us. When I examined it, like you, I could identify the blue and gold of the peacock insignia.’
Eva’s eyes widened. ‘What was in it?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know yet. It was sealed. Eva …’ He grabbed her hand. ‘It was also addressed to your company.’
She stared at him. She was still finding it hard to believe. Ramon didn’t seem to be involved. Thank God … But what about Jacqui? What about the Emporium? And what were the crates doing in Ramon’s warehouse?
‘Can I ask you? Do you trust them? If that crate has been sent by Li’s … We know what sort of a company he runs.’
Did she trust
the Emporium? Eva didn’t want to be disloyal, and despite their differences she had never doubted Jacqui’s integrity, but … ‘I don’t know.’ Miserably, she shook her head. Thought back to her conversations with their two contacts here in Myanmar, her sense that she wasn’t completely in the know about what was going on, their edginess, Leon’s reaction when he knew she was about to check the packaging of the shipment in Yangon. Not so much a string of coincidences, more like a string of similarities. A knotted rope, each knot leading to another section of the whole, each section unravelling the truth.
Ramon poured tea into the delicate white cups and passed one to Eva. Unlike the first room which had been so spartan, this room was painted in creams and reds and seemed almost opulent by comparison. And there was a faint scent of smoky incense in the air.
‘Did you challenge your warehouse manager about the crate you found?’ Eva asked him. She sipped the green tea. She had begun to develop quite a taste for it and she needed its calming influence right now.
‘Of course.’ His eyes positively glittered.
‘And what did he say?’
‘He denied any knowledge of it at first.’ Ramon shrugged. ‘And then he crumpled. He begged me not to tell them that I had found out what he was doing, he pleaded with me not to open the crate and he said that he had no idea what was inside.’
Eva raised her eyebrows. ‘How many crates had he shipped out for them under your name?’ she asked. She knew that Ramon must have gone through the same thought process as she had yesterday when she found out. And no doubt he had come to a similar conclusion: that his company was being used as a front for something that must surely be dodgy and possibly even illegal. She pushed the thought of the Emporium away for now. Whatever was inside those crates, his company’s stamp was on the outside. And yet looking at him now as he sipped his tea, he seemed remarkably calm.
‘It has been going on for several months apparently,’ he said. ‘Wai Yan promised this would be the last one, if I let it go.’
‘But you won’t let it go?’ She stared at him. How could he?