Linnear 03 - White Ninja (27 page)

Tak talked animatedly as they ate. As he spoke, it gradually dawned on So-Peng that he had passed some kind of test that Tak had devised for him. He thought back to the people he had been introduced to on the hunt. Each of them, though polite, had seemed eager to know about him, almost as if they were quizzing him. And, indeed, So-Peng now realized that that was precisely what they had been doing.

When he thought about it, it was not so surprising. People in Tak's position had a right if not a duty to be sceptical of everyone with whom they came in contact. Tak's only fear was from infiltration by the police or by a rival tong. Tak had in effect passed bun around to all those in the hunt party who could identify him as something other than what So-Peng had claimed to be.

'These two merchants,' Tak was saying now, 'were something special to me, and everyone knew it. They had the fastest fleets, the trained personnel, the desire to take risks that I required. It is clear to me that whoever murdered them - the tanjian, you say - did so at the behest of someone with whom I have done business. We had a disagreement about six months ago, and he vowed to get even. Now he has, and I cannot let his challenge go unavenged.'

Hearing this, So-Peng was about to say that this could not be so, since his mother was certain that the tanjian had murdered the two merchants as a warning for her to return to her family, but instead he bit his tongue. It was clear to him that Tik Po Tak was far from a fool. If he believed that the murders were meant to teach him a lesson, So-Peng could not discount that possibility. Then who was right about the motive for the murders, Tak or Liang?

'You were very quick with your reflexes,' Tak said, returning to the subject of the tiger hunt. 'Desaru owes you; he will not forget.'

'I had some practice,' So-Peng admitted. 'Some years ago, I made money by bagging those giant rats that were gobbling up the Colony's cats. Remember? The governor put a bounty on their heads. One week I brought in twenty. They made a good deal more noise than the tiger.'

'You heard him anyway,' Tak said, missing nothing, 'when Ridley and I did not.'

'Well, I have not lived in Singapore all my life,' So-Peng said, judging the time was right to divulge this information. 'My family moved around a lot and I spent time on both coasts of the peninsula.'

Tak laughed. 'So you know the jungle better than I.'

So-Peng told him the Malay name of the river they were on, then immediately regretted it; Tak might think him devious.

'Do you also know where we're going?' Tak asked seriously.

So-Peng shook his head. 'I'd need second-sight for that,' he said.

'I know someone who has second-sight,' Tak said. 'I consulted him before we set out.' He spat into the muddy water. 'He said I would not return from upriver.'

'Yet you chose to go anyway.'

'Chose?' Tak seemed surprised by the word. 'Fate dictated that I must go. These merchants were like part of my family. Also, I was waiting for a sign.' He pointed at So-Peng. 'You are the sign, lad. You know the murderers, these tanjian. I no longer feel like an eagle in the dark. You'll see them before they see us.'

So-Peng felt his bowels turn to water. He was angry at himself for inflating his value' to Tak. He had told the satnseng that he had seen the tanjian and could thus identify them. Now Tak was counting on him to provide

the edge in a showdown between two powerful enemies. So-Peng was in the middle of a war from which it was impossible to extricate himself.

Yet he knew that he could not confess his error in judgement - not now after he knew what was required of him. All of a sudden, he found that his cynical feelings about Tak had dissipated. Tak had revealed himself as a man who believed in his ideals, and was willing to die for them. So-Peng thought that no better definition of a hero existed.

It was, perhaps, not surprising that Tik Po Tak should have such a profound effect upon So-Peng. After all, the boy had grown up in a family where his father was all but completely absent. That So-Peng should wind up admiring this man with the iron will and compelling personality was, in retrospect, inevitable.

Children from a kampong they passed swam out into the river, laughing and splashing at the garfish which could swim atop, the water for minutes at a time. Two enterprising lads swam alongside the sampan until one of Tak's men shouted a warning in Bahasa, pointing to an oncoming crocodile. The kids shouted. So-Peng could see their eyes rolling in fear, and he was reminded of the mortally wounded tiger before Tak shot it through the eye. The children turned, trying to head for shore, but So-Peng, watching the crocodile overhauling them, did not believe they would make it to safety. The crocodile, close now, opened wide its greedy jaws.

One of Tak's men reached for a rifle, but So-Peng put his hand on the barrel, saying, 'The blood will only attract more animals.'

Leaning over the side of the boat, So-Peng ripped off a thick branch and, launching himself into the river between the terrified children and the crocodile, he jammed the branch into the mouth of the crocodile. Immediately, he swung aboard its back, riding it as it thrashed. Behind it,

the river was turned into a froth by its whipping tail. The children, seeing this display, began to laugh, swimming to shore, pulling themselves up the embankment, standing, dripping, pointing and laughing as they nonchalantly peeled giant leeches off their bodies.

Tak pulled So-Peng back aboard the sampan, and the boat moved on.

'Where did you learn that trick?' he asked.

So-Peng, thinking of Zhao Hsia, laughed. 'I'm glad it worked,' he said. 'When I was a boy my best friend used to do that with crocodiles larger than this one. He had a knack with animals. Not like second-sight, but similar, I suppose. They would not harm him.' He shrugged. 'Perhaps he hypnotized them.'

Tak was staring upriver, at the Gunung Muntahak mountain, rising in blue haze out of the emerald and khaki jungle. 'I could use your friend's powers on this journey,' he said. Then he turned, and smiled at So-Peng. 'It is good that you are here, lad. Not many Chinese are familiar with the Malay east coast. It is my great good fortune that you came to me at just this moment.'

Within a stand of huge Tualang trees they saw a brace of scaly pangolin, overseen by a family of raucous gibbons, swinging from branch to branch. Kingfishers, hornbills and sunbirds flitted and stalked along the river and its steep embankments. Sunset was approaching.

There were few cooking fires in the kampongs, for this was the beginning of Ramadan and, for the Muslim Malays, the next thirty days were reserved for fasting and for prayer.

'I chose this time well,' Tak said, as the sampan nosed into a natural cove on the right bank. 'In Ramadan the spirit may be strong, but the flesh is weak.'

They crept ashore, under cover of the swiftly encroaching night and the cluttering of the nocturnal insects. Fireflies glittered in the gathering dusk and, here and

there, birdwing butterflies as large across as So-Peng's head made their last foray of the day. They went as far as they could, then made camp without a fire, settled down for the night.

At first light, they set out. Tak led them down a jungle path, winding and circuitous. There were many breaks, and the path was overgrown with palm and fern so that intuition - or perhaps memory - played as great a role as jungle lore in divining the way.

However, it was So-Peng who pointed out that several of the clumps of fern were unattached. Rather they had been purposefully placed in order to obscure die path in as natural a manner as was possible.

'Is this your enemy's doing?' So-Peng asked.

'I don't think his people are that sophisticated,' Tak said, shaking his head.

They pressed on, strung out in single file: two of Tak's heavily-armed men, then Tak himself, So-Peng, and the last of the men, the one who cooked for them.

The foliage, thick, wide, beaded with moisture, held all manner of treasures: a multitude of insects, tiny jewelled snakes, green and blue tree frogs, small multicoloured birds.

The days were always more quiet than the nights, but just as dangerous. Spitting cobras, krates and vipers whose bites were powerful enough to paralyse a man within seconds were much in evidence. Once, the lead man stopped, pointing at a great creature coiled around the bole of a tree by the side of the path. It was a reticulated python which looked to be longer than the height of five men.

Just before midday, Tak called a halt, and they hunkered down in place for a light meal. So-Peng, who was nearest the cook, helped pass the fruit down the line of men: rambutan, which were similar to lychee, and the sweet-sour mangosteen with its pure white flesh. It was

said that one told seasons in Singapore by what fruit was on sale there.

So-Peng was opening the last of his mangosteen when the white sections were suddenly, startlingly spattered with deep red. So-Peng smelt the sickly-sweet stench of fresh blood and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the cook crumple over as if he had fallen asleep.

Except that the middle of the cook's chest was rudely split by a gleaming steel object, eight-pointed, buried half-way into flesh. So-Peng recognized it immediately as a tanjian throwing star.

So-Peng grew very still. He felt his spirit contracting into an opaque ball, keeping to the low ground, staying invisible. The hairs at the back of his neck stirred; he was acutely aware of his vulnerability, his utter helplessness. He waited for the soft whirring of the throwing star, the sharp bite of steel blade burying itself in his back. He willed his mind to think of nothing. Afraid to move or to make any sound, So-Peng clandestinely watched the cook die.

All was quiet around them. The men ate, unsuspecting. So-Peng acted accordingly, so as not to differentiate himself from them.

He believed he knew what the tanjian were up to. His mother had emphasized their dependence on strategy, and he knew that he must bank on that dependence, turning it to his advantage, transmuting the tanjian strength into a weakness. He could not do that by offering himself up as a target. Sick at heart, trembling in fear, he obediently ate his last mangosteen, speckled with the cook's blood.

At length, So-Peng rose, went off the trail to urinate. Afterwards, instead of returning directly to the party, he struck out in a direction that ran roughly parallel to the jungle path they had been following.

He had been at this for perhaps ten minutes when he heard a voice calling softly, 'Don't move.'

So-Peng froze; he dared not even look around. Now he felt something on his back. As it began to undulate, silently tracking obliquely across one shoulder to his waist, he began to understand.

He waited patiently. In a moment, he sensed someone approaching him from the side. So-Peng relaxed his muscles. There was a quick movement, no more than a blur, then he felt the weight off his back, heard the swish of the knife through the air, turned and saw the viper's head severed from its writhing body. Black venom squirted on to the jungle floor, absorbed by the thick mulch.

So-Peng looked into Tik Po Tak's eyes. 'What do you think you're doing, lad?' the samseng said. 'You could've been killed.'

'I was looking for the tanjian in the trees,' So-Peng said, watching Tak wipe down his knife. 'The cook is dead.'

'I know. I got the men under cover, then I went looking for you. I thought you'd been killed as well.'

'The tanjian are here,' So-Peng said. When Tak said nothing, he went on. 'The cook was killed with the same weapon as the two merchants in Singapore - a throwing star.'

Tak was scowling. 'You knew this and you made no outcry?'

'If I had,' So-Peng said, 'I would have been the next to die. I did not know from which direction the star had come, but I knew I was being watched.'

As he moved through the jungle, he avoided a spot where the sun dropped almost straight through a small gap in the jungle canopy, golden instead of luminescent green.

'We are being stalked,' So-Peng said as they returned to the jungle path. He had made his circuit, had seen no one. Still, he fingered the throwing star hidden in his trousers, the one he had purloined from the police office

in Singapore. 'I believe the tanjian mean to kill us one by one until you are the last remaining member of this party.'

The silence stretched on so long that Tak was forced to say, 'And then?'

'I don't know,' So-Peng confessed. 'Perhaps they will seek to take you apart in front of your enemy.'

Tak looked at So-Peng. 'Second-sight says that I will not return from here,' he said. "That future, I believe, is but one of many. Now we must prove that it is the wrong one.'

'We cannot remain on the path,' So-Peng pointed out.

'No, we must head directly into the jungle.'

'How well do you know this area?'

Tak spat. 'Maybe better than the tanjian, though not as well as the man we have to get to.' He eyed So-Peng. 'Do you have an idea?'

'Maybe,' So-Peng said, 'but I need height for it to work.'

Tak smiled, pointing almost due north. 'There,' he said, 'not a mile away are the Kota Tinggi waterfalls. They are over 100 feet high.'

So-Peng nodded. 'They'll do.'

Tak and So-Peng returned to where the men squatted under cover, and headed out. Less than a mile, Tak had said. Still, So-Peng thought, considering the numerous skills of the tanjian, that could seem like a day's march.