Sunlight spilled through the opening in the branches overhead and, as faces turned to watch us walk into the circle, I felt as though I was walking on stage, accompanied by the loyal light. In addition to the smell of food cooking there was a strong smell of bat droppings. Clumps of bats hung high up in the shadows, looking like some strange hairy moving fruit. Now and then one fell away to swoop down and up again, squeaking, before flapping away into the opening above.
I estimated the number of guerrillas to be around thirty, but the cave was quiet. No one seemed to speak. There were an equal number of Chinese men and women—the women often looking as tough as the men—and a small number of Indians and Malays.
“Where’s Yong Kwan?”
“Out killing Japanese. We’ll see him tonight.”
“Is there a place to wash myself?” I asked.
Kon led me out of the cave to a spot where a bend in the stream had gouged out a shallow pool. I sank into it with pleasure.
“Your father sent me,” I said to him.
He nodded. “I guessed that. How is he?”
“Quite well,” I lied.
He raised an eyebrow at me in disbelief. I felt a sadness at the paths along which our lives had led us. Kon’s father was right; we were both too young. I wondered how we would ever recondition ourselves once the war was over. Had our experiences damaged us for the rest of our lives?
“What are you doing here, really?” Kon asked.
“The Japs have laid bait to lure you out into the open. Have you heard of Saotome?”
He held up a hand to halt me. “Tell it to Yong Kwan tonight.”
“What’s he like?”
“He used to teach mathematics at a Chinese school. Probably trained by the Chinese. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had tried to indoctrinate his students as well.”
Strange how we referred to our own people in a manner set to distinguish them from us. After all, weren’t Kon and I Chinese? Yet throughout our conversation we had spoken only in English.
“He’s also a total bastard. Very cunning and ruthless. I have a feeling he’s in this for something else, not just for the glory of Communism.”
I ducked my head into the water and came out feeling better, cleaner. I climbed out of the river, dried myself and put on my clothes.
“How’s Penang?” Kon asked.
“The Japanese executed hundreds of people after you blew up the radar station,” I said, wanting him to know the price that had been paid on his behalf. But as soon as the words came out I was sorry. I was not completely free from blemish either. “That was uncalled for,” I said. “I apologize.”
He shook his head. “I deserved it. You didn’t have to come. I told you, we’re even now.”
“There should never be talk of debts and payments between friends.” I told him of Tanaka and his part in the trap Saotome had planned. “He’s the bait Saotome is using to lure you out.”
The expression on his face tightened.
“I didn’t tell you the last time we met—William’s dead; he went down with his ship. Edward is in a slave camp, and Isabel ...” With halting words I spoke about Isabel, and he was silent.
“Your aunt was correct, you know. The British are making plans to take back Malaya,” he said. “We’ve been working with soldiers who are being parachuted in. Everything is in place for the assault.”
“You still trust the British, after the way they betrayed us, abandoning us to the Japanese? I read many of the documents they left behind in their haste to evacuate. The whole defense of the country was a mess. There were even orders to the European community to leave secretly in the night, to board ships and sail away,” I said.
“Who else do we have?” he asked, his voice bitter.
We heard movement behind us and turned, Kon’s hand going for his knife.
I recognized Su Yen, the female guerrilla I had met at Tanaka’s house. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said to Kon.
“We could have killed you,” Kon said.
She went to him and kissed him. He pushed her away and said, “Come on, we decided it’s too dangerous to do that anymore.”
She shrugged and said, “Yong Kwan won’t be back until tonight and your friend can always find something else to amuse
him.” She looked at me briefly, and in her eyes I saw a warning to me not to stand in her way.
But Kon was firm, and sent her off.
“The baby?” I asked.
He nodded slightly. “She bled all the way back here. And she’s changed after the experience. She hates everything and everyone now. I think Su Yen lost more than the baby when the midwife worked on her.”
I really did not want to hear any more. I wanted desperately to get out of the forest. It frightened me, this vast, endless yet confined landscape without landmarks I could recognize. I would not have survived for long here and my respect for Kon grew stronger.
We heard voices and laughter. “That must be Yong Kwan returning. Come on, let’s go back,” Kon said. He touched me on my shoulder and stopped me. “Don’t let anyone know Tanaka-san is my
sensei.
Yong Kwan will use it against me.”
“I won’t.”
Yong Kwan was a balding man in his late thirties, stocky, with hard eyes. Like almost everyone there, his MPAJA uniform had seen better days.
I told him in detail about the ambush. “Saotome will be driven along the trunk road between Ipoh and Cameron Highlands, followed some distance behind by his troops. His intention is to lure you out and he especially wants Kon.” Here I saw Yong Kwan look displeased that Saotome did not consider him important enough to capture.
“You’ll probably be informed as to when Saotome will arrive by his mole here. You have a traitor in your midst and you can only catch him when he brings you the news,” I said, as I concluded. “Now I must return to Penang. Please get one of your men to take me back.”
He shook his head and pointed to two of his guerrillas. They came behind me and held my arms. One strung out a coiled rope and tied my hands together.
“You’re a well-known collaborator. We’re not letting you leave until we’re certain of the truth of your claims.”
I swore at him. He stepped up and swung his palm against my face. I spun from the force of the blow and dropped to the ground.
“Stop it!” Kon snapped. “He was sent by my father.”
“Your father,” Yong Kwan sneered. “An old, powerless man, addicted to opium, a brothel keeper? Sending him to inform us? I have the security of the entire camp on my hands. He stays tied up until we get Saotome.” He kicked me when I attempted to rise to my feet.
Kon made a move toward Yong Kwan, but I said softly in Japanese, “Let him be. I’m telling the truth.”
The words, meaningless to Yong Kwan, infuriated him. “What is that Japanese spy telling you now? And you, are you also the Japs’ dog?” he asked Kon.
Kon looked deliberately at every one of the men surrounding Yong Kwan and walked out of the cave.
I lay trussed up on the ground the entire night. By dawn the next day I was cold and stiff. My bound wrists were sore and my ankles, where they had tethered me during the night, had started to bleed, staining the ropes. I was desperate to get away. I could not stay, for Yong Kwan would kill me. If I returned, Fujihara would kill me. I had been away from Penang for too long now and my absence would be noticed.
I lay and thought about the consequences of my association with Endo-san. And I had not a shred of doubt that if death was to be my fate then I would rather that Endo-san end my life.
Kon brought me a bowl of hot gruel, squatting down next to me as he fed me. He sent the sentry away. “We’ve received news. The contingent will be on the road in tomorrow at noon. Yong Kwan is holding the man who brought the information.”
“Who is he?”
“A rice farmer from a small village a mile from here. The village has been providing us with food and medical supplies. He’s admitted that he’s working for the Japs for the money.” He opened his knife and cut my ropes. “We’ll need as much help as we can get. You’ve seen Saotome up close, so you’ll have to identify him for us.”
I got up, stretching my sore body. The sun was high as we made our way to the cave. A group of guerrillas surrounded Yong Kwan, who was pointing to a map. He saw us, but went on with his instructions. I saw that most of them deferred to Kon, glancing at him to see if he approved of Yong Kwan’s plan. But I thought it was simple and effective and so did Kon.
“We divide into two groups,” Yong Kwan said. “One group takes out the car carrying Saotome and the other will deal with the truck carrying the troops. And you,” he pointed to me, “you’ll be in the team attacking Saotome. I want him alive.”
“What about the soldiers guarding Saotome?” Kon asked.
“The soldiers?” Yong Kwan laughed. “No need to bother bringing them back here.”
“I’ll be in that team as well,” Kon said, his voice firm. We had both agreed that Saotome would probably place Tanaka in the same vehicle as himself.
There were four people in each of the two teams. Yong Kwan led the first, with Kon and me and another guerrilla following behind him. The second team, which broke away from us after an hour’s trek, had three Chinese MPAJA guerrillas and a Malay. They would be stationed farther up the trunk road.
We trekked through the jungle, our passage made difficult by the complete absence of tracks or paths. There was just thick, soggy undergrowth. Sweat soaked my shirt and the rifle sling. I had left my sword behind, which made the going easier. The mosquitoes enjoyed dancing around our faces, tormenting us. Once we disturbed a hornbill and it cried out, annoyed as it flew off, its massive wings sounding like a woman slapping wet clothes on river rocks. Soon the black-tarred road could be glimpsed through the low-hanging branches as we emerged from the jungle.
Before the war, this road had been popular with people going up Cameron Highlands for their holidays. Yong Kwan had chosen to lay the ambush at the junction of the road to the Highlands. Cars always stopped here before turning. My father loved it up there, for it gave a welcome respite from the endless heat, and Isabel used to enjoy walking in the strawberry farms, the vegetable gardens and the misty, undulating tea plantations. I knew that around the bend was a hidden spot where a waterfall collected in a rock pool. We had had many a picnic there, swimming in the cold clear water, picking leeches off our bodies after the swim and chasing insects and butterflies. A feeling of loss lowered my spirits and Kon asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just lost memories.”
He understood. “The road to Cameron Highlands. You British had some good years here,” he said in an ironic voice.
We slithered down onto the road and ran to the ditch on the opposite side. I checked my watch. It was half past eleven. We had assumed that Saotome would leave Ipoh in a few minutes and that it would take him three-quarters of an hour to reach the junction.
We sat in the shade of the
lalang,
listening for the approach of the cars. Twice we heard the sounds of vehicles but they were small lorries, carrying only a few soldiers. I shook my head at Yong Kwan after checking them. There was a soft rumble and I lifted my head, but it was only thunderclouds in the sky.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t rain. It’s the time of the monsoon again,” Kon said, studying the sky.
“You said yesterday the war would soon be over?” I asked, feeling hopeful yet apprehensive as to what the end of the war would bring.
“I think so. We have other teams meeting British troops coming ashore from submarines off the Straits of Malacca. Arms and ammunition were stockpiled in the jungles by a few far-sighted men before the Japanese took over. How do you think we’ve managed to fight for so long? We’ll lead the British to these weapons and when we receive the order from Malaya Command in India, we’ll destroy every major Japanese installation and military facility.”
I looked at my watch. It was noon and I was hungry. I was about to open my water bottle when I heard the whine of engines coming up the steep incline of the road.
Saotome had made sure the guerrillas would not miss his importance, for the car was decorated with two flags proclaiming the status of its passengers within. As the vehicle slowed down at the junction I gave a signal to Yong Kwan and we rose up from the ditch, pointing our guns at the car, surrounding it.
Saotome opened the door and got out, looking distinguished in his formal uniform. His sword leaned against his thigh and his boots had been polished. He looked surprised when he saw me. “Well, young Philip. Imagine meeting you here.”
He was unconcerned, knowing he had reinforcements behind him. At that moment we heard gunshots and he turned to look back along the road. We waited, then the first of the Chinese guerrillas appeared, lifting his fist into the air. Saotome understood what had happened and his hand went to his sword. Kon pointed his rifle at him and said in Japanese, “Don’t move.”
