Bitter Sweet Harvest (34 page)

“An Mei! Can’t you look at me? Can’t we talk like two civilised adults? I miss you,” he said taking her arm to restrain her.

Heads turned to stare at them. A tall, well-dressed, dark Malay man, pursuing a young Chinese lady in trousers. They could see that he was begging and pleading with her; she seemed impervious to his entreaties, angry even. His entourage of what could only be security guards looked on with impassive faces.

She wrenched her arm away and leaned back from him. “We have nothing more to say to each other,” she said. “More specifically, I have nothing to say to you. I don’t wish to see you again.”

“I miss you,” he persisted. His voice was soft and cajoling. “Whoever this Mark is, he cannot be as important to you as we were to each other.”

“Mark is my husband. You are not fit to mention his name!”

Hussein was stung to the core by her reply. “You cannot mean it. You are just saying it to hurt me. We are soul mates,” he continued. “Remember, you are my first and only love and I hope that I am the same way to you.”

She turned to walk away. He reached forward to catch her arm again.

“I am here to ask if you would take me back,” said Hussein.

She felt herself tremble. She bit her lips to stop the trembling. She knew that if she gave in to herself, she would weaken. She had, for days, this nagging fear of failing herself as she had failed herself so many times before when she was with Hussein. “Retreat into your anger, your pride,” Nelly had counselled her over and over again. She thought of her past humiliation. Suddenly her anger flared. The cheek of him! She rounded on Hussein.

“Don’t you understand? I don’t miss you and I don’t want to have anything to do with you,” she said. She locked gaze with him for a second. He stepped back, startled by her vehement reply. Without a glance backwards, she hailed a taxi, shutting her ears and mind to his voice.

In the taxi, An Mei sat dry-eyed in the corner. Her body was stiff and tense. She clamped her jaws. She stayed like that all the way back to Jane’s house. She had prepared and schooled herself for her encounter with Hussein. It was only when he said he wanted her back that she nearly lost the defence she had created round herself. She could not afford to allow her weakness to show. She was glad for Nelly’s advice. If she had not drawn on her anger and pride, she would have shown her weakness. She wished that Mark were with her; she needed his strength, his sensibility and his love. “Mark!” she whispered, “where are you? Where is Tim?” She bowed her head in prayer for their safety, murmuring her prayers over and over again; something she had not done for years.

Ahmad sat alone in the armchair, one leg was slung across the armrest and the other jiggled furiously. The die was cast, he thought. He had broken all ties now and would not be able to return to Malaysia. He would probably not even be able to return to his house in Singapore because his cover must have been blown. Otherwise why had Aquino disappeared?

He mulled over the events that had led to his present predicament. He looked at the bare room with its two tiny iron-barred windows that now served as his safe house, one provided courtesy of Ah Cheong. He closed his eyes in disgust at his surroundings. The unwashed odour of previous inhabitants persisted even in the air he breathed. He had no choice. He had nowhere to go until the ransom money materialised and arrangements for his flight to Indonesia were completed. He had not wanted things to turn out the way they had. He called Faridah, his old ally, in the hope of winning her favour. After all, he would be returning her grandson to her. He heard the joy in her voice, even when he raised the issue of money. She was receptive to his proposal. She believed he had taken the child for her sake. Then it had all changed the second time he called. He had hung up and in anger sought Ah Cheong’s help. He realised now that by calling Faridah, he had placed himself in serious jeopardy. He had committed a criminal act, kidnapping. He preferred to think that he had taken Tim to rescue him from the clutches of a wicked infidel, a woman who had cheated her husband and in-laws of a lawful child and grandchild. He had been so sure that Faridah would support him. He even thought he might regain favour in Faridah’s household. It must be Hussein’s doing that he was now on the run and forced into the hands of Ah Cheong. Anger stirred in him. His involvement of Ah Cheong meant that he had to share his takings.

“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.