I dressed quickly and opened the door, cautiously checking the hallway. It was deserted. But soldiers could be anywhere. We crept to the room adjoining mine and tapped on the door. A moment later it opened a crack, and Thomas peered out.
"Thomas, we need your help," I said.
The door opened with no hesitation. He rubbed the slumber from his eyes, pulled his robe tighter, and led us to two chairs in the parlor.
"Tell me what happened," he said.
I related the tragedy, repeating Lady Jane’s description.
He was calm and composed. He didn’t ask why she came to my room for help, but I’m sure he wondered why.
"He didn’t hurt you?"
She shook her head.
He eyed her for a moment. "Is the general dead?"
"I think so." She closed her eyes tightly.
"Is the door to your room locked?"
"Yes."
"Let me have the key.”
She removed the key from her robe and handed it to him.
"George, you come with me," he directed.
"No, don’t," Lady Jane said softly. “I don’t want to be alone.”
"We’re going to make sure the general is dead," Thomas said.
He went in the bathroom and dressed, then removed his knife from a bureau drawer. "Lock the door behind us. We'll be back in a few minutes."
"Do you have to go?"
"If the general is still alive, it may take both of us to subdue him," Thomas said. "You'll be safe here."
We quietly made our way down the hallway. Lady Jane’s room was in the floor above ours. When we reached the stairs, Thomas held his hand up. I stopped.
He leaned close to my ear. “I think I hear voices.”
He cracked open the door into the stairwell. Two men were talking in Japanese. We quietly retreated, carefully making our way to the stairs at the opposite end of the long hallway.
When we reached the stairway, I opened the door slowly. We heard no sounds. Tentatively we tiptoed up the steps. When we reached the next landing, we paused at the entrance. Thomas cracked the door open and peered out.
“There’s a soldier at the far end of the hall,” he said. “Let’s wait and see if he leaves.”
“What should we do if the general is still alive?” I asked.
“We have to delay discovery until we can leave the city,” Thomas replied. “We can tie him up. It might be morning before he escapes or is found. Or we can kill him.”
I reconsidered my earlier threat of revenge. “Will it be harder for us if he’s killed?”
He paused and turned to face me. “It doesn’t matter. But I would rather kill him. You don’t know Hakkan. You don’t know what he’s done.”
“And you do?”
“Come on. The soldier left. We have to hurry.” “Tell me about Hakkan,” I hissed.
“Later.”
When we entered Lady Jane’s suite, we heard someone groaning. We moved through the parlor and into the bedroom.
A lamp and a clock had been knocked off the nightstand and were lying on the hardwood floor. The lampshade was crumpled, the clock face cracked. A few feet away was an opened book, cast aside and askew, the partially removed dust jacket beside it. It was titled,Murder in Moldavia.
General Hakkan lay on the floor. He was far from dead and was just beginning to rise. The scissors were lodged in his upper back, blood dripping from the wound. He staggered to his knees, muttering in Japanese. He turned to face us.
Thomas leaped upon him. He drove his right arm forward, piercing the general's midsection with the knife. Blood oozed across his torso, dripping onto the sheets.
Hakkan groaned, cursed, and pushed Thomas away. He was a strong man, built like a bull, and he grabbed the knife, twisting Thomas’s arm at such a savage angle I feared it would break.
I leaped forward, punching Hakkan in the face. He didn’t flinch. He was focused on the blade, inching it closer to Thomas’s torso. I punched him again. He growled, as if he were shaking an annoying dog off his pant leg.
“Grab the knife,” Thomas hissed.
I added my hands to his, and between us, we managed to direct the blade away from his stomach. It pointed to the side, away from either body, with all of our hands wrapped around it.
I removed my right hand and again punched Hakkan in the face. I hit him repeatedly, and each punch I flung vented the hatred I felt for what he had done to Lady Jane.
Hakkan’s strength was fading as blood seeped from his body. I stopped punching him and dug the nails of my finger into his left wrist. He tensed, gasped, and his grip loosened. I pulled his hand off the knife and subdued it with both of mine.
Thomas seized the opportunity and threw three punches directly to Hakkan’s face. Blood spattered, his nose broken.
The knife dropped, and Thomas pushed Hakkan to the floor. I sat on the general’s left arm, neutralizing it with the weight of my body. Thomas climbed on top of him, holding both hands around his throat.
Hakkan clawed at Thomas’s face, trying to rip at his eyes. I fought to control his other arm. Thomas squeezed harder.
“I want to look in your eyes while I kill you,” Thomas hissed.
Hakkan’s face turned crimson; his veins bulged in his neck. He coughed, his eyes protruding from the sockets.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Thomas asked.
Hakkan glared at him, and a vague recognition crossed his face.
“Shanghai,” Thomas said. He squeezed harder, his hands wringing the life from the general.
“Yes,” Hakkan choked. “I remember.” He grinned wickedly. “I enjoyed it.”
Thomas’s eyes grew wide, burning with hatred. He spat in Hakkan’s face and squeezed harder, but Hakkan refused to die.
Hakkan flung one punch after another, some hitting their mark, but most missing. Each grew a little weaker. Thomas did not relinquish his hold. He squeezed harder, sticking his knee in Hakkan’s wounded chest, using the added leverage to his advantage.
Hakkan slowly stopped struggling and a blue tinge crept over his face like a blanket over a sheet.
Thomas stepped back off the bed, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead, and studied Hakkan. The general didn’t move.
Thomas checked for vital signs. "He's dead."
I looked at the corpse lying beside me. I wanted no forgiveness for taking a life, not this one, anyway, and was glad Hakkan was dead. Hakkan had to pay for what he’d done to Lady Jane.
Thomas stared at the body, breathing heavily. Tears were streaming down his face.
I hugged him, holding him for just a second, trying to will some of my strength to him. “Tell me about Shanghai.”
He hugged me tightly and then pulled away. He wiped his tears on his shirt sleeve. “We have to hurry.”
He went to the bathroom and washed up, but his clothes were stained with blood. Mine were too. It would be easy for the Japanese to track the killers.
Thomas rooted through the bureau drawers, selecting some of Lady Jane’s clothing to pack. He found the outfit she wore to Palembang and rolled it under his arm. Next he selected some undergarments. He rolled up a few more items and placed them in a suede satchel. We then went into the bathroom to find Lady Jane’s personal effects neatly lined up on the counter beside the sink. Cosmetics and French perfume, soaps, shampoos, and oils were swept into the bag.
I picked the book off the floor and added it to the satchel. I saw two others on the bureau:Earthquakes and Volcanoesand Murder in Patagonia. I added them to the bag.
We went to the door, listened closely, then peeked into the hallway. We saw no sentries. Cautiously, we returned to Thomas’s room and tapped on the door. Seconds later we heard the tumblers of the lock reposition and a nervous Lady Jane peered into the hallway.
“Here are some of your things,” Thomas said softly. He was aware of her fragile mental state and realized how horrible we looked in our bloody clothes. “Go and get dressed. We h
ave to leave.”
When she took her clothes and went into the bathroom, Thomas changed quickly and packed a small bag. He paced the floor while she got dressed, planning and plotting. By the time she emerged he had formulated a course of action.
"Go change your clothes, George," he said. "And be prepared for travel. Don’t bring anything you can't carry in a small bag. Get Sir Gregory and Van der Meer, and have them do the same."
He guided Lady Jane to a chair and gently brushed the hair away from her face with his hand.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
"Make sure you explain what happened to Sir Gregory and Van der Meer,” he added. “And stress that we have very little time. When the other soldiers find the general's body they'll come after Lady Jane. We have to get as far away as possible by dawn. It's our only hope."
"What are you going to do?" I asked. His tenderness confused me. I watched while he caressed her hair. I didn’t like it. He was so immersed in her that at first I didn't think he heard me.
"I need to speak to Lady Jane," he said, his eyes not leaving hers. When a few seconds passed and I had not left, he turned to find me watching. "Alone, George."
I cast Lady Jane a questioning look. I didn’t want her to be alone with Thomas. Not while she was so vulnerable, and not while I was falling in love with her.
"Go ahead, George," she said. "I'll be fine."
CHAPTER 32
The murder of a Japanese general, especially given Hakkan’s importance, would be dealt with severely. The enemy would spare no effort to find us, combing the entire city of Batavia and the nearby countryside. We had to hurry. We had to get as far away as possible.
I suddenly had mixed emotions about killing him, even if I didn’t think he deserved to live. But I knew a tremendous emotional burden came with taking someone’s life. Although I finally uttered a prayer, a plea for forgiveness, I knew I would be haunted forever by Hakkan’s vacant eyes and lifeless body.
And then there was Shanghai. What did it mean? What was the link between Thomas and Hakkan? How did Van der Meer know? These and a thousand other questions raced through my mind as I entered my room.
I dressed quickly and gathered some personal belongings, putting them in a leather travel bag. I stuffed all the cash I had into my pocket, and hid the remainder of the bearer bonds that theTimes had provided for my expenses in the lining of my bag. As I put my passport beside them, I remembered my fake passport. It was at the registration desk. Hotels always held passports; it was their process. But our fake passports included our photographs. If the Japanese got them they would know what we looked like.
I moved cautiously into the hallway, finding no sentries. My breath was rapid and shallow, as I tiptoed across the tiled floor. I knew I could be discovered any second, challenged by the enemy, taken captive, or shot. I made my way to Van der Meer’s room and rapped lightly on his door. It was a few moments before he answered, foggy and bleary-eyed. I explained the situation to him, including the sordid details. I stressed the need for haste. "I’m glad Thomas was the one to kill him,” he said with morbid satisfaction. “I only wish I could have seen it.”
He dressed quickly and then packed some belongings in a ragged suitcase he had purchased on his arrival. He wasn’t one for frills; he made do with the bare necessities. Once he was ready, we went to Sir Gregory’s suite.
Just as we rounded a corner in the hallway, Van der Meer stopped abruptly. He leaned back against the wall. Then he motioned for me to look.
I peeked around the corner. Sir Gregory’s door was nearest to us, just around the bend, but a Japanese soldier stood in front of it. He was barely five feet away.
Van der Meer pointed down the hallway. A stairwell stood at the far end. Anyone exiting from it would see us. We were vulnerable and exposed.
We waited, daring not to breath. Van der Meer poked his head around the corner. The guard was still there. He glanced at his watch.
My heart was beating wildly. There was no place to hide. Van der Meer again studied the hallway. Then he looked at me and shrugged. He motioned for me to follow him.
We crept forward. Van der Meer stepped around the corner, reached in front of the soldier’s face, and grabbed his chin with his right hand. He pulled his hand back forcefully.
I winced as I heard the neck snap. The soldier slumped, headed for the ground, but Van der Meer grabbed the collar of his uniform, holding him upright with his left hand. He dragged him towards Sir Gregory’s door.
“I don’t want anyone to find him,” he whispered.
I didn’t reply. I was stunned by both his display of strength and how quickly and ruthlessly he killed. I looked at his heavily muscled arms with a new respect.
He saw the look on my face. “We had no choice. Hurry and wake Sir Gregory.”
I knocked on the door as we waited anxiously in the corridor. A minute or two passed. I kept knocking, glancing furtively down the hallway. He finally answered, wearing silk pajamas that cost more than most earn in a week.
He stared wide-eyed at the dead soldier. "What is going on?"
"Forgive the intrusion, Sir Gregory," I said.
We burst into his room, and Van der Meer shoved the corpse into an empty closet. We recounted the evening’s events. Sir Gregory frowned repeatedly as we told the story.
"Is Jane all right?” he asked, his face fraught and anxious.
"She's still upset," I said. "It was a trying ordeal."
"Yes, I'm sure," Sir Gregory muttered, his mind wandering. "I can’t help but feel responsible for her. I always have.” He looked at us, sorrow etched on his face.
“She’s fine,” Van der Meer said, interrupting him. “Come on. We have to hurry.”
“Of course,” he said. “You’re right. I know what the Japanese are capable of. I still have nightmares about what they did to me at the oil fields. You’re sure she wasn’t harmed?”
“She’s all right,” I said, although I now saw him in a new light. It was only then that I realized he had probably been tortured, just like Van der Meer. With pangs of guilt and jealousy, I realized how much he loved Lady Jane.
He dressed quickly, glancing at his watch several times, and took a small satchel from the closet. “How much can I bring?”
“Just pack that bag,” Van der Meer directed. “We have to be able to move quickly.”
He selected some clothing and then filled the remainder of the satchel with personal effects. He started for the door and then paused. He returned to his bureau, retrieved a photograph of Lady Jane, and put it in the bag.
"I’m ready,” he said tersely.
We checked the hallway, searching for soldiers. There were none visible; there were no audible sounds. We hurried to Thomas’s room and tapped on the door. Seconds later, he let us in.
Lady Jane sat quietly, waiting for us. Her face was still ashen, but she was composed. Sir Gregory hugged her.
"Come on," Thomas urged. "We have to leave. The soldiers will search the entire island for us."
"And they’ll kill us if they find us," Sir Gregory said grimly.
"How do we escape?" I asked.
"By railroad," Van der Meer replied. "The terminal is closer than the harbor. So we'll get farther in less time. That's important right now."
"Where will we go?" I asked.
"Madura," Thomas said.
"Where's that?" Lady Jane asked.
"It's where Van der Meer and I just were," he said.
"It’s a day's ride by train."
“Why go there?” she asked. “There must be other options.”
Thomas looked at Van der Meer before replying.
“That’s where Bennie is.”
"Come on," Van der Meer said. "We have to go before the others find the body. They’ll seal off the exits."
Thomas glanced at his watch. "I just hope there’s a train before dawn. We'll have to avoid patrols on our way to the station."
With Thomas’s warning echoi
ng in our ears, we crept down the carpeted halls. We found a rarely used fire escape at the rear of the building and disappeared into an alley behind the hotel. It was dark and narrow, bordered by tenements and the back of stores from an adjacent street. It was raining lightly, and a quarter moon was pinned in the sky.
Van der Meer led us down one lane and then another littered with trash cans and stray animals, an occasional vehicle, crates and bicycles and storage boxes. There were no street lamps to guide us, and since we advanced cautiously, both time and distance passed slowly. I feared the sun would rise before we departed.
After we had traveled about a mile, we heard the distant sound of an approaching vehicle. Van der Meer motioned for us to take cover, so we hid behind some trash barrels.
“Don’t move,” Thomas hissed.
Lady Jane leaned up against me, wrapping her arm around my waist. She was so close I could feel her breath, her heart throbbing, her body trembling.
“Everything will be all right,” I said softly. I glanced furtively at Sir Gregory. He wasn’t watching, so I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her towards me.
A small truck drove into the end of the alley, crept forward a short distance, and stopped. It sat there, silent, a shadow blending with the darkness. There was an audible click, and a blinding searchlight scanned the pathway, passing over our hiding place.
We waited as seconds passed. Then a cat leaped from a corner, rattling the lid of a metal can before scampering away. The beam moved up and down the alley and then slowly retreated. Eventually the driver seemed satisfied. He turned the light off, guided the vehicle into the street, and drove away.
Just as the threat passed, the rain ceased, and we continued. As we got closer to the terminal, the Japanese presence increased. They wandered nearby streets even though it was not yet dawn or waited aimlessly on corners. We suspected the enemy was using the railroad for troop movements. The soldiers must be waiting for trains.
It was shortly after 5 a.m., the sun just beginning to rise, when we reached a row of tenements bordering the edge of the railroad station. Hundreds of soldiers milled about the yard, talking in small groups, smoking cigarettes, idly passing the time. We crouched behind the last building, hidden by some shrubbery, and surveyed the situation.
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