Bitter Sweet Harvest

by Chan Ling Yap

  “I will just have to double it,” he said aloud. “I will have to call the boy’s mother! Make her stew! Make her pay as well.”

  Having decided on this new course of action he picked up the phone. He dialled and waited.

  “Call this number,” he said repeating the number twice to make sure that his accomplice had it correct. “Say that you have the boy. Say you want one million in used notes. Say you will call again to tell them where to deposit it. Warn them of the dire consequences for the boy if they involved the police. Speak in Chinese and disguise your voice. That should confuse them because by now the police will have been told that I have kidnapped the boy. They will not understand why a Chinese is involved. They expect me to call. Do not make your call from Singapore. Call from Malaysia; call from the state of Johor. That will make them more fearful. An Mei must know that if the child is in Malaysia, her chances of losing him to Hussein and his family will be that much greater since her claim would be challenged in a Shariah court. That should make them more receptive to my demands. It will also stop them from looking in Singapore.”

  He placed the phone down. There was nothing more he could do. He would have to sit tight and wait.

  *****

  “For you,” said Nelly. She gestured to An Mei to take up the extension. She continued holding the phone to her ear; hardly daring to breathe for fear that she would be heard.

  “Who is this?” asked An Mei, her voice anxious.

  “Never mind who I am,” came the reply. The voice was high and the words clipped and metallic. “All you need to know is that I have your son. And I want you to put together one million dollars in used notes for me. I will call you again in twenty-four hours to tell you where to make the drop. If everything proceeds the way we want, you will have the boy back.”

  “Who are you? Is this a joke?” asked An Mei bewildered by the voice.

  “Joke?” the voice asked. “Here, listen to this.”

  An Mei heard a scream in the background and Tim’s voice shouting, “Mummy! Mummy!”

  “Please let me speak to him. Is he alright?” she pleaded. “Don’t hurt him.”

  “If he gets hurt, it will not be because of me. It will be because of you.” The voice was teasing; the undertone was full of malice. “You decide whether he should be hurt. An ear off would do nicely. You know the consequences if you do not do as we tell you or if you go to the police. I will call you again.”

  “Hello! Hello! Please! Please!” pleaded An Mei. She looked up to see Detective Superintendent Kam indicating with his finger rotating around his ear. “Keep talking,” he mouthed silently.

  “I will do as you say. You say in used notes. Does it have to be a particular denomination? Are we talking about Singapore or Malaysian Dollars?”

  Silence.

  “Hello! Hello! Are you there?” asked An Mei frantically.

  A string of curses followed. “Singapore dollars of course! What do you take us for? Small denominations, twenty and fifty dollars, will do.”

  “But it will be bulky.”

  “Do as you are told!”

  The phone went dead.

  An Mei stared gaunt-eyed at Nelly. “What shall we do?” she asked. Strands of hair came loose from her ponytail. They fell forward making an untidy halo around her pale cheeks.

  Detective Superintendent Kam came forward. “You did well. You kept the person long enough for us to trace the call. We will try to unscramble the voice. It did not sound natural, too high pitched, too clipped, too much resonance in the background and what a strange accent!”

  Suddenly, An Mei began to feel grateful for his presence. Detective Superintendent Kam had arrived not long after she returned home to Nelly. She had been vehement in her protests. She did not want his intrusion and feared that he would continue questioning her about Mark’s absence. She feared that she would not be able to continue with her deception. Kam had calmly ignored her protests and set up a surveillance team in anticipation of a call from Ahmad. Telephone lines were rigged and a host of equipment was set up in the living room. His manner towards her, although distantly polite, did not have the scorn he had shown when he first interviewed her.

  “What about the money? We need time to raise that amount and to have it in cash,” said An Mei. “Jane and her husband have agreed to put up some and Jeremy, my aunt’s son, has contacted the bank he used to work for to stand as surety for a loan.”

  “We’ll take care of it; we’ll speak to the bank as well,” Kam said.

  An Mei took a deep breath. She turned and collapsed into Nelly’s arms. All energy sapped out of her.

  “Don’t worry,” whispered Nelly. “I think Kam is now on our side.”

  “Why? Why did he change his mind?”

  “I am sorry but I told him your background, the whole story. I had to, to win him over.”

  “Was that why you cornered him as soon as he arrived and took him to the den?” said An Mei.

  “I told him before that. In fact, soon after you left for the police station to meet with Hussein. I called him because I thought you would need help when you came face-to-face with Hussein,” said Nelly.

  An Mei looked over Nelly’s shoulder at Detective Superintendent Kam. He caught her eye.

  “Will you please tell us where Mr. Hayes is? We cannot believe that he would leave you on your own at a time like this,” said Kam.

  *****

  Mark sat cramped in the canoe with Aquino. Just over two feet wide, there was hardly any space to move. They did not speak. The heat enveloped them. The soft sound of water lapping against the side of their boat mingled with the distant calls of seabirds and waves crashing on the adjacent shores. They sat watching the fishermen’s huts on stilts. Each hut was connected to the beach by a long wooden jetty. The front of the huts looked out to sea. Everything was still. Water rose high on the stilts of the huts, leaving them barely two feet clear of the waves. The hours passed. There were no movements, no sign of people. A strong wind blew, clouds gathered to form big foams of cotton wool. Suddenly, the weather changed. Purple clouds gathered, turning darker and darker. A red tinge of fire outlined their burgeoning form. Then a flash of lightning was followed by a burst of thunder. The skies opened releasing a deluge of torrential rain that obscured their vision. They lost sight of the huts. Then as suddenly as it started, the rain stopped. Water dripped down from the mangrove bowers. Drip, drip, drip!

  Mark saw a figure appear from the hut nearest to them. He looked through the binoculars. He watched as the man lit up and smoked; halos of smoke puffed and disappeared into the air. The glow of his cigarette burned bright.

  Mark turned to Aquino and gave him the binoculars. “Do you recognise him?”

  “Yes! That’s one of them,” said Aquino.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! He had tattoo on shoulder and arm. I saw when he lifted arm to smoke.”

  Suddenly, the man flipped the cigarette butt over the jetty and sauntered back into the hut.

  “That must be the hut where Tim is being held,” whispered Mark.

  Aquino tilted his head skywards. “Night soon. Sun already setting,” he said, pointing to the horizon.

  Mark looked in amazement at the sunset: red, fiery with little sign of the tropical storm of just minutes ago. Still they waited, cramped together in the canoe. They watched as the waves retreat from the shoreline. Each wave smaller than the next until they were just ripples lapping on the fine sand. Low tide! His heart thumped faster and faster. It would soon be time to make their first move. The canoe settled lower and was almost touching the bottom. Thick roots of the black mangrove emerged, gnarled, contorted. Some distance away, he saw a snake slither away.

  “Look!” whispered Aquino. A man appeared outside the hut. Mark snatched the binoculars from Aquino.

  “It is not the same man! So there are at least two of them.”

  Mark panicked. He had hoped that there would only be one guard. José had told him
that the truck that had been there earlier had left the jetty sometime during the night. From this, he had assumed that only one of the men had stayed behind with Tim. It was clear now that someone else had come to pick up the truck. Mark reached into the depth of the canoe and took out a knife and an axe that José had given him. “I hope we do not have to use these,” he said with a grimace.

  A noise came from behind them.

  “Did you hear that?” asked Aquino, turning sharply round to face Mark.

  Mark sat still straining to hear. Then almost imperceptibly he heard the rhythmic sound of movements; people ploughing through thick slush and mud. The sound got closer and closer. Figures emerged from the direction where they had left José and the boat. He crouched into the canoe, making his body flat. Aquino followed suit. The canoe wobbled dangerously. He could hardly breathe as his knees dug into his ribs; his back strained and stretched in the unfamiliar position.

  “Heh! Heh! It’s me, José.”

  Mark straightened up immediately. He saw José. With him were five other men. They carried arms and were holding them chest high well clear of the muddy slush of the swamp they were threading through.

  “What...?” Mark, taken by surprise, did not finish his sentence. His eyes narrowed as he examined José’s companions. He recognised one of them: Kam, the Detective Superintendent. He held his breath. Why was Kam with José? How did José bring him here? He glanced at Aquino trying to read his expression. He did not see anything beyond surprise in his face. So, had he been duped by his friend? Did José have a prior arrangement with Detective Superintendent Kam to trap him? How did Kam know of their whereabouts?

  Mark was disconcerted by the turn of events. He had hoped to rescue Tim and flee with him and An Mei back to England. There he believed they would have greater legal leverage. From what he had heard, they would have a hard time convincing a Shariah court in Malaysia that An Mei should have custody of the child. He was hopeful they would fare better in a civil court and to fight in a civil court they had to be away from the Malaysian jurisdiction. He feared that with Kam’s intervention, they would not be able to leave quickly and easily. Yet at that very moment, despite his apprehension that he would not be able to spirit An Mei and Tim away, he was secretly relieved. He was glad to see Kam and his reinforcements. He knew deep down that their chances of rescuing Tim would be significantly improved with them and the law on their side. He would just have to take one problem at a time.

  “So,” said Kam as he approached the canoe. He studied Mark at length, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll keep what I wanted to say until later when we have got the boy. I want you to stay here. We’ll surround the hut. It is already dark and the water has receded almost completely. In this low tide, it will not be difficult. The soft sand will muffle the sound of our footsteps. We have a helicopter as back up. It will keep some distance away so as not to attract attention. It will come in only at the last moment.”

  “No! Please let me come with you,” pleaded Mark, “I will not be in your way. Tim will not be as frightened if he sees me coming to the rescue. He might scream if he sees your men and that would alert the two men, even if you succeed in getting to the hut.”

  Kam hesitated for a moment. “Right, let’s go! You just follow and keep out of the way. Do exactly as I tell you.”

  *****

  Kam and his police commandoes spread out, moving in a pincer-like formation towards the hut where the two men had emerged earlier. They walked soft-footed across the sand, carrying their arms. Footprints formed and vanished, washed away by the lapping waves of the receding tide. Their bodies cast long shadows in front, like shadow puppets mimicking and pre-empting their every movement. Mark kept close to Kam. They crouched low as they moved forward. They kept their eyes fixed firmly on the hut in case one of the occupants should come out and somehow manage to spot them in the dark. The distant roar of the sea camouflaged all sound. Within minutes, they reached the base of the stilts. Kam motioned everyone to move into position. Two of the commandoes clambered up a stilt with the aid of a rope thrown around an anchor post on the jetty. Once on top they laid belly down on the jetty a short distance from the hut, their guns pointed at the doorway. In the meantime, the two other men clambered up a pair of stilts directly below the hut itself. They moved quickly and climbed with simian-like agility. They grasped the stilts as high as they could, then drew up their knees. Clutching the stilts firmly with their feet, they straightened their legs pushing their bodies further up the stilts and reached upwards with their arms. Once again they grasped the stilts, drew up their knees and repeated the climbing sequence. The movements were fast, graceful, effortless. They pulled themselves up and clambered onto a wooden platform that ran around the hut, then made their way towards the doorway. Once there, they drew their firearms and stood with their backs flat against the wall.

  The sound of music drifted from the hut, interspersed by harsh guttural swearing. Dice were thrown and cards were unveiled. Slap! Slam! A child whimpered. A string of expletives followed, “Diu lei loh mo! F... your mother! Stop crying!”

  Mark placed a foot forward, ready to sprint to the jetty. He looked at Kam who shook his head and silently mouthed, “No! Follow me.”

  Kam moved round the stilts supporting the hut with Mark close on his heels. Kam knew these fishing huts would have another exit in addition to the main one that led out to the jetty. To the front of the hut, facing the sea, there was a door that opened on to a platform used for casting fishing nets. Now, with low tide, the drop from the platform to the ground was great. It was unlikely that anyone would choose to jump from that height, but, still, precautions must be taken, thought Kam. He could not spare any of his men to keep watch here; he needed them to guard the front exit, which the two thugs were most likely to use to escape. He motioned Mark to station himself below the exit that faced out to sea, pointing upwards to tell him to keep watch. That should keep Mark out of the way, he thought, and he might be useful in the unlikely event that someone did decide to jump. He left Mark and made his way towards the jetty, to the men he had left there.

  Suddenly one of Cheong’s men appeared at the doorway leading out to the jetty. He sauntered nonchalantly out of the hut, one hand dug deep into his trouser pocket fishing out his pack of cigarettes. He turned to speak to the man within. A sudden movement by the doorway caught his eye. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but the policeman who had been laid on his belly was already moving forward. He took him from the behind, pressing one arm around his victim’s throat in a stranglehold and using his free hand to twist the man’s right arm behind his back. They fell with a thud! Immediately the rest of the police force rushed forward. The lights went out in the hut and it was engulfed in darkness momentarily before the powerful torches of the police lit the area.

  “Give up! You are surrounded! Hand over the boy!” Kam’s voice boomed through a loud hailer. “Walk out with both hands on your head.”

  “I have the boy and I have a knife to his throat!” shouted the accomplice from within.

  “You would not wish to harm the boy. It will only add to the seriousness of your crime. Hand over the boy peacefully and we will take this into account. This is your only chance for reprieve.”

  Silence followed.

  At the opposite end of the hut, Mark stood below the platform and the seaward exit, every sinew in his body ready for action. He was half-hidden by the protruding planks as he peered intently through the gaps between them at the exit. Suddenly, the shadow of a man appeared barely visible against the dark night sky. Like lightning he leapt clear off the platform. He landed badly on his back with one leg caught twisted beneath him. Mark saw the struggling bundle that the man was trying to hold. Mark stepped forward and quickly grabbed the bundle from the man and embraced it in his arms. Within seconds, Kam’s men surrounded them.

  Chapter 42

  The book lay open on An Mei’s lap,
unread. All around her was darkness except for the light coming from the solitary table lamp behind her. She flipped through the pages at random; the text appeared like meaningless squiggles. She snapped the book shut. She could not read. She could not concentrate. Torturous thoughts tormented her ever since Detective Superintendent Kam left. She had told him all she knew of Mark and Aquino’s whereabouts. Now all she could think of was Tim and Mark. Has Kam found them? She could not bear to think of the danger they must be in, danger that she had put them in. She could not dismiss from her mind visions of what might be happening. She worried and fretted. Over and over again, she prayed. “Please, please, let them return safely.”

  The door opened. Nelly came in. She took one look at An Mei and said, “Go to bed. Take a rest. I’ll sit up and wait.”