Bitter Sweet Harvest

by Chan Ling Yap

Ahmad knew the odds and had hoped that Faridah would pay up. It did not look like it now. He was angry and frustrated. He had placed such hopes on his phone call to Faridah. He had been so sure that she would come up with the money. Now he was not certain at all. He stared at the departing lanky figure and slammed his fist on the armrest of the chair.

  “You will pay for this Hussein,” he growled. He had no doubts that Hussein was behind Faridah’s refusal to cough up the sum of money he had demanded. He stood up, brushed the creases off his trousers and followed after Ah Cheong.

  *****

  Mark hurried back to Jane’s house, running most of the way. He banged on the door. Jane let him in.

  “I lost him,” cried Mark. He bent over, breathless. His shirt clung wet to his back. His face was red from the exertion and traces of blood stained his upper lip.

  “Lost who?” she asked.

  “A young man who probably would have led us to Tim.”

  “Slow down. Come in. An Mei and my mum are in the sitting room.” He went into the room. An Mei was sat next to Nelly on the sofa. They could tell that something was wrong. Mark was red in the face and looked sheepish, even guilty.

  “What happened?” asked An Mei, jumping up at the sight of him.

  He stood before them, feeling their eyes on him as he related his tale. A surge of anguish and guilt filled him. He had failed them. He could feel the reproach in An Mei’s face.

  “How, how could you lose him? How could you let him go? He offered to help!” she asked.

  Nelly pulled her down to the seat.

  “Mind what you say. Mark did not deliberately lose him,” said Nelly.

  An Mei fell back to the sofa seat. Her face was filled with anger one minute and despair the next. Frustration rose like a bitter pill. Their first lead and it had disappeared into thin air.

  “You probably frightened him away,” she said, her eyes accusing him.

  “Yes! Yes! In retrospect I should have gone along with him and promised everything he asked for in return for information. But I was taken by surprise, I... I just reacted... like, I suppose like I would in a normal situation.”

  Mark went to An Mei.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I was wrong. He came out of the blue and took me by surprise. I just am not used to being accosted in the streets by someone who I have never met and... and... be told that I have to give him protection and money in return for information. How could I trust him, let alone do a deal?” Mark tried to get An Mei to look at him but she would not look up.

  “So it was Ahmad,” she said after some while. “I always thought that it would be Hussein and his family. I thought that I would be safe in Singapore. I too was wrong. I should not have exposed Tim to this,” she whispered.

  “Aiyah! Mo yong gong kum yeong! No use talking like that! You wrong or he wrong what can it do? Important thing is to find Tim. We must go to the police with this new information,” said Nelly.

  “If it is Ahmad, the immigration department in Singapore must have a record of his entry and where he is supposed to be staying. These details must be in his immigration arrival card,” said Mark, excitement creeping into his voice. “Come, let us go right now to the police.” He took An Mei’s hand. “I’m truly sorry. I love Tim like my own, you know that don’t you?”

  She nodded. She knew Mark loved Tim and would do anything for him. She knew her anger was not justified. She braced her shoulders and straightened her back.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “Nelly is right. What happens next is more important.” Turning to Nelly, she said, “Stay. Rest at home. We will be back soon. There is nothing you can do at the police station.”

  They stepped out of the house and made their way to the car parked out on the street. Dusk made long shadows in the street. Trees swayed and moved, their branches making intricate shifting shades on the pavements.

  Aquino looked on from behind a tree. He had parked the blue Mercedes some distance away for fear that it would be recognized. His mind was still tortured, moving between anxiety for himself if he were to help An Mei and fear for Timothy if he did not. Indecision kept him stuck to the spot even when he wanted to rush forward and offer his help. He saw An Mei and Mark leave and stood still for a minute before making his way back to Ahmad’s car. He would be in trouble. He had been due to collect Ahmad and he was late.

  *****

  “Ahmad slammed down the phone on me. He said that we will pay,” she cried. “I knew we should have gone along with him and given him the money. I do not know what will happen to my grandson now.”

  Faridah turned on her husband with fury. “You, you are to blame. Where were the police when we needed them? The police would know best. Hah!”

  She brought her hands up to cover her face in anguish, then withdrew them to jab her fingers at her husband. She ranted. “They told us not to pay up, to ask for time to get the cash together. They ask us to play along because there is no guarantee that Ahmad would hand over the boy. Hah!” she snorted again. “This is what happens if we don’t pay! I shall never forgive you,” she cried breaking into tears.

  “Calm down. We have traced the call. It is from Singapore. He is not in Malaysia. So that at least gives us a lead. The police are on to him now. Even at this very moment, they are talking to their Singapore counterparts,” Rahim said with a confidence that he did not really have. He put his arm around his distraught wife in an attempt to comfort her. He had never seen her so upset before, angry yes, but not upset like this. Her longing for a grandchild had made her vulnerable and he was filled with pity for her.

  “Come, come! Sit down,” he said guiding her to a chair, but she pushed him away.

  At the other end of the room, Hussein stood surrounded by uniformed policemen. They were gathered around the long table where they had set up the phone-tapping device. “Caught him,” said one officer, looking up at Hussein with a smile.

  “Not quite,” said another. “He might have just borrowed a phone. Quick, get on to Singapore. This will at the very least tell us where he has been.”

  Hussein went over to his father. He took him by the arm and led him away from his mother.

  “I’m flying to Singapore. I want to be there on the spot, talking directly to the police. I feel helpless this far away. The call might still lead nowhere. Ahmad is a slippery fellow. In any case,” Hussein said lowering his voice, “I want to see An Mei. She must be in Singapore. I have already asked them,” he nodded his head in the direction of the policemen, “to follow up on the lead and find An Mei. The immigration authorities must have a record of her whereabouts.”

  “So what will you do if you find her?”

  “Father I want her back. If I can find our son, then I think that I will stand a better chance of doing so and mother might not object like she did previously. Surely the old obstacles no longer apply. I am already established.”

  “What if she refuses?”

  “I don’t know,” said Hussein. “I’ll take one step at a time. The most urgent matter now is to find my son.”

  “If An Mei refuses, it is alright with us, so long as we have the boy. Warn her. If she refuses, then we’ll take her to court for the boy. I cannot let your mother suffer with another loss of a grandchild!”

  Hussein looked at his father’s stern and dogged face and turned away.

  Chapter 40

  The room was ice cold. The air conditioner was going full blast, pumping out cold air relentlessly. Brump brump, the machine clanked every now and then in protest at its hard labour. An Mei held on to Mark’s hand, her fingers twined tightly in his. She was drawn and pale, so pale that the dark shadows of her lower eyelids looked bruised. Several times she blinked, unable to take in all that the policeman was saying to her. The many sleepless nights had taken their toil.

  She turned to Mark seeking comfort. He smiled and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  “Mam,” Detective Superintendent Kam’s voice rose a notch higher. “Do you h
ear me? We know about Ahmad. Your son’s father has already been in touch and he is on his way here. We might have some leads as to the whereabouts of Ahmad with his help and we will keep you informed. So far, however, our immigration records have shown up nothing. He might have entered Singapore with a false passport. There is nothing to indicate he is on the island. Neither the records in the airport nor the checkpoint at the Johor causeway, show he is here.”

  He looked at her sternly. He glanced at Mark and then back at her. Mark could sense his disapproval.

  “In the meantime,” he said, “I would like you to remain in Singapore and let us know if Ahmad or anyone else gets in touch with you. Please do not do anything on your own. Your son’s life might be in danger.”

  She sat very still; she made no reply; her eyes turned vacant, a veil descended on her obliterating all light. Then she shook; her body trembled and her teeth chattered. She could not stop. Her greatest fear had come to pass. Hussein knows about Tim.

  “Mam, mam, do you understand what I am saying. Get an ambulance! Quick!” he ordered his underlings, his earlier severe expression gone from his face. “You! Get her a glass of water!” Suddenly the room was filled with frantic activity as officers rushed to do Detective Superintendent Kam’s bidding.

  “No! We don’t need an ambulance. We have a doctor at home. Just ... just let us be for a few moments,” said Mark. He took An Mei in his arms and whispered in her ear. “It will be fine. At least we have a lead to Tim’s whereabouts.” He continued stroking her head until her trembling stopped. He reached out for the glass of water brought in by a policeman and gave it to An Mei, coaxing the glass to her lips.

  “Hussein will take Tim away from us.” Her voice was hoarse. She held on tight to Mark in an attempt to draw strength from his body. She had run from Hussein and the clutches of his family. For four years she thought she had succeeded; now it would seem all her efforts had been futile and the inevitable had happened. She blamed herself for being careless, to have thought that Singapore was safe.

  He felt her despair and held her tighter.

  “He won’t; we’ll fight that. The important thing is we now have a lead. Let’s focus on that.”

  “Promise me, you will not let Hussein take Tim from us.”

  “I promise. I will do my utmost to fight him, but it is you who will have to be strong.”

  Mark saw the flash of uncertainty in An Mei’s face; his heart sank. He turned her around gently tilting her face up until she looked at him. “You have to fight your corner. Will you be able to stand up to him?”

  *****

  A shaft of light from the street seeped into the bedroom as the curtains blew gently inwards. It lit up the bed. An Mei turned to look at Mark. He was sleeping soundly; his chest rose and fell under the bed covers. She crept out of the bed, taking care not to disturb him. She padded barefoot out of the bedroom and made her way downstairs towards the kitchen. The clock chimed four o’clock. The kitchen light was on. She heard the humming of a kettle and the sounds of cupboard doors being opened softly and jar tops turned. She pushed open the door. Nelly turned, saw her, and then turned back to the cupboard, shutting its door firmly.

  “Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

  An Mei shook her head. She went to the fridge and took out a jug of water, pouring herself a large tumbler. She drank deeply from it. She felt its icy coldness rush through her and shivered.

  “Did you sleep?” asked Nelly.

  “Yes, a bit. I tossed and turned for some time before I finally fell asleep. What time did Mark come up to bed, do you know? I didn’t hear him.”

  “I don’t know. It must have been very late because he was still up when I went to bed at half past one. He was making many phone calls, jotting down notes and chewing on his pencil until it must be frayed. He was working so hard that I could see his exhaustion from where I was, some ten feet away.” Nelly blew gently on the steam coming up from her mug of hot tea. “He loves you, you know.”

  An Mei chewed her lower lip and looked intently into her empty tumbler as though she was trying to fathom what else could be in the glass. “I do,” she whispered.

  “Jane spent some time with him after she put her baby to sleep. She told me that he was trying to check up on paternity testing. He called up some old friends in the UK who might know.” Nelly placed her mug down and sighed. “He told Jane he is worried, as we are, that Hussein would take Tim from us and is desperately trying to anticipate the actions that Hussein might take.”

  “I won’t be able to bear it,” cried An Mei. “I can’t even bear to think about it right now.”

  “You have to be strong.”

  An Mei stood very still; a sense of frustration grew in her. “Again that phrase,” she muttered to herself. “Everyone says I have to be strong. What do they mean? How strong can I be?”

  “You are not going to crumble when you see Hussein, are you?” asked Nelly anxiously. “You don’t have any feelings for Hussein any more, do you?”

  There was a moment of hesitation, then, An Mei shook her head vigorously, “No! I have no feelings for Hussein except pity and contempt. Contempt for someone who has sold his soul in pursuit of ambition,” she said.

  Nelly continued to look at An Mei, her eyes were wary. She opened her lips as though she wanted to say more. She hesitated. Then she reached out and clasped An Mei’s arm and squeezed it gently.

  *****

  Ahmad made his way to the rear of the large double story house that had hosted and fed his gambling compulsion over the past couple of years. It had seen better days. In its prime, it must have been a handsome building, more a mansion than a house. Now, age and decay marked its outer walls.

  A bare light bulb lit the narrow passageway. Crates of beer, piled high, lined one side of the wall; his shoes crunched on loose tiles that were worn and stained. He stopped, and then continued at a slower pace, careful not to make any more noise. A bemused look appeared on his face as he made a mental calculation of the amount that Ah Cheong must draw in from this gambling den alone. Yet his office was little more than a hovel.

  He came to the end of the corridor. A door barred with iron stood before him. Not a hole, he corrected himself, a prison. He rang the bell. He had seen Ah Cheong making his way here and he had done a recce of it previously. He was sure he would find him. The door opened and a man appeared. He wore a sleeveless thin white cotton undershirt over a pair of loose black cotton trousers. A cotton string belt was tied around his waist. Beyond him, he could see Ah Cheong seated at a desk. A portable fan stood on the desk; it turned listlessly circulating hot air in the room.

  “I would like to see Ah Cheong,” he said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Your boss knows me. Tell him I have a business proposition for him,” Ahmad said raising his voice deliberately.

  “Huh! Business proposition? What business proposition? Pergi! Go!” said the man, waving Ahmad away.

  From over the man’s shoulder, covered with tattoos of intertwining dragons, Ahmad could see Ah Cheong. Their eyes met. A moment’s hesitation and then Cheong tilted his head in the direction of Ahmad. “Let him in,” he said, lighting up a cigarette. “So a business proposition!” Switching to Mandarin, he repeated to his underling with a cackling laugh. “Ta shuo ta yao gei wo sheng yi ji hui.”

  “Yes!” said Ahmad, “one that might be profitable for you.”

  “Sit! Tell Me!” Ah Cheong smiled with amusement.

  *****

  Aquino waited outside. His master was late as usual. It depended on how the game was going. He squatted down beside the car. It was good that I gave the little boy some food, it looks like being a long night, he thought. There were other cars parked in the grounds. Minutes passed; some people were leaving the building and making their way towards the cars parked adjacent to his. He shifted on his haunches, alert.

  “So the boss has agreed,” Aquino heard one say. The glow from his cigarette burned bright lighting up
his nose. A thin jagged scar ran from below his right ear to the corner of his mouth.

  “Yes! Looks like it. It seems that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be repaid no matter what he might threaten to do. You can’t squeeze juice out of an empty bottle. So the boss had to go along with his proposal to salvage what he can; no doubt he has been promised a very big share.”

  “Where will it be done?”

  “We’ll use one of the small islands.”

  “There must be thirty or more of them off Singapore. Pulau Jong, Pulau Berani, Pulau Hantu, Pulau Busing ... which one?”

  “I don’t know. They are keeping it to themselves. We are only the small cogs in a big wheel with no power and influence. So mind your own business. Just make sure you have the boat ready and filled up for the journey. We will be leaving tonight. They will probably let us know at the very last minute.”

  The two men went their separate ways.

  Aquino kept very still. He understood the gist of the conversation carried out in a mix of Chinese, English and Malay, at least enough to make him uneasy. He stood up. His legs were numb and he shook the circulation back into them holding on to the car for support. More people were coming out of the building. He saw his boss; he saw him shake the hand of the long tall Chinese man they called Ah Cheong. He waited; he broke into a cold sweat. Was it his boss, Ahmad, they were talking about? Is their boss Ah Cheong?”

  He saw Ahmad walking purposefully towards him, and then he stopped half way and walked back to Ah Cheong. He saw Ah Cheong gesticulating in his direction, shaking his head in an emphatic manner. He waited. Ahmad turned again and resumed his stride towards him. Aquino felt his legs tremble with fear. He tried to get hold of himself and dug his heel deep into the tufts of grass round his feet. He felt the hard dry grass scuffing his ankle.

  “I don’t need you this evening. I am going to give you the evening off. Go somewhere, anywhere. But I want you back by tomorrow morning,” Ahmad hollered some twenty yards from him.