Bitter Sweet Harvest (31 page)

He looked at her sternly. He glanced at Mark and then back at her. Mark could sense his disapproval.

“In the meantime,” he said, “I would like you to remain in Singapore and let us know if Ahmad or anyone else gets in touch with you. Please do not do anything on your own. Your son’s life might be in danger.”

She sat very still; she made no reply; her eyes turned vacant, a veil descended on her obliterating all light. Then she shook; her body trembled and her teeth chattered. She could not stop. Her greatest fear had come to pass. Hussein knows about Tim.

“Mam, mam, do you understand what I am saying. Get an ambulance! Quick!” he ordered his underlings, his earlier severe expression gone from his face. “You! Get her a glass of water!” Suddenly the room was filled with frantic activity as officers rushed to do Detective Superintendent Kam’s bidding.

“No! We don’t need an ambulance. We have a doctor at home. Just ... just let us be for a few moments,” said Mark. He took An Mei in his arms and whispered in her ear. “It will be fine. At least we have a lead to Tim’s whereabouts.” He continued stroking her head until her trembling stopped. He reached out for the glass of water brought in by a policeman and gave it to An Mei, coaxing the glass to her lips.

“Hussein will take Tim away from us.” Her voice was hoarse. She held on tight to Mark in an attempt to draw strength from his body. She had run from Hussein and the clutches of his family. For four years she thought she had succeeded; now it would seem all her efforts had been futile and the inevitable had happened. She blamed herself for being careless, to have thought that Singapore was safe.

He felt her despair and held her tighter.

“He won’t; we’ll fight that. The important thing is we now have a lead. Let’s focus on that.”

“Promise me, you will not let Hussein take Tim from us.”

“I promise. I will do my utmost to fight him, but it is you who will have to be strong.”

Mark saw the flash of uncertainty in An Mei’s face; his heart sank. He turned her around gently tilting her face up until she looked at him. “You have to fight your corner. Will you be able to stand up to him?”

A shaft of light from the street seeped into the bedroom as the curtains blew gently inwards. It lit up the bed. An Mei turned to look at Mark. He was sleeping soundly; his chest rose and fell under the bed covers. She crept out of the bed, taking care not to disturb him. She padded barefoot out of the bedroom and made her way downstairs towards the kitchen. The clock chimed four o’clock. The kitchen light was on. She heard the humming of a kettle and the sounds of cupboard doors being opened softly and jar tops turned. She pushed open the door. Nelly turned, saw her, and then turned back to the cupboard, shutting its door firmly.

“Tea? Coffee?” she asked.

An Mei shook her head. She went to the fridge and took out a jug of water, pouring herself a large tumbler. She drank deeply from it. She felt its icy coldness rush through her and shivered.

“Did you sleep?” asked Nelly.

“Yes, a bit. I tossed and turned for some time before I finally fell asleep. What time did Mark come up to bed, do you know? I didn’t hear him.”

“I don’t know. It must have been very late because he was still up when I went to bed at half past one. He was making many phone calls, jotting down notes and chewing on his pencil until it must be frayed. He was working so hard that I could see his exhaustion from where I was, some ten feet away.” Nelly blew gently on the steam coming up from her mug of hot tea. “He loves you, you know.”

An Mei chewed her lower lip and looked intently into her empty tumbler as though she was trying to fathom what else could be in the glass. “I do,” she whispered.

“Jane spent some time with him after she put her baby to sleep. She told me that he was trying to check up on paternity testing. He called up some old friends in the UK who might know.” Nelly placed her mug down and sighed. “He told Jane he is worried, as we are, that Hussein would take Tim from us and is desperately trying to anticipate the actions that Hussein might take.”

“I won’t be able to bear it,” cried An Mei. “I can’t even bear to think about it right now.”

“You have to be strong.”

An Mei stood very still; a sense of frustration grew in her. “Again that phrase,” she muttered to herself. “Everyone says I have to be strong. What do they mean? How strong can I be?”

“You are not going to crumble when you see Hussein, are you?” asked Nelly anxiously. “You don’t have any feelings for Hussein any more, do you?”

There was a moment of hesitation, then, An Mei shook her head vigorously, “No! I have no feelings for Hussein except pity and contempt. Contempt for someone who has sold his soul in pursuit of ambition,” she said.

Nelly continued to look at An Mei, her eyes were wary. She opened her lips as though she wanted to say more. She hesitated. Then she reached out and clasped An Mei’s arm and squeezed it gently.

Ahmad made his way to the rear of the large double story house that had hosted and fed his gambling compulsion over the past couple of years. It had seen better days. In its prime, it must have been a handsome building, more a mansion than a house. Now, age and decay marked its outer walls.

A bare light bulb lit the narrow passageway. Crates of beer, piled high, lined one side of the wall; his shoes crunched on loose tiles that were worn and stained. He stopped, and then continued at a slower pace, careful not to make any more noise. A bemused look appeared on his face as he made a mental calculation of the amount that Ah Cheong must draw in from this gambling den alone. Yet his office was little more than a hovel.

He came to the end of the corridor. A door barred with iron stood before him. Not a hole, he corrected himself, a prison. He rang the bell. He had seen Ah Cheong making his way here and he had done a recce of it previously. He was sure he would find him. The door opened and a man appeared. He wore a sleeveless thin white cotton undershirt over a pair of loose black cotton trousers. A cotton string belt was tied around his waist. Beyond him, he could see Ah Cheong seated at a desk. A portable fan stood on the desk; it turned listlessly circulating hot air in the room.

“I would like to see Ah Cheong,” he said.

“Who are you?”

“Your boss knows me. Tell him I have a business proposition for him,” Ahmad said raising his voice deliberately.

“Huh! Business proposition? What business proposition?
Pergi!
Go!” said the man, waving Ahmad away.

From over the man’s shoulder, covered with tattoos of intertwining dragons, Ahmad could see Ah Cheong. Their eyes met. A moment’s hesitation and then Cheong tilted his head in the direction of Ahmad. “Let him in,” he said, lighting up a cigarette. “So a business proposition!” Switching to Mandarin, he repeated to his underling with a cackling laugh. “
Ta shuo ta yao gei wo sheng yi ji hui.
”

“Yes!” said Ahmad, “one that might be profitable for you.”

“Sit! Tell Me!” Ah Cheong smiled with amusement.

Aquino waited outside. His master was late as usual. It depended on how the game was going. He squatted down beside the car. It was good that I gave the little boy some food, it looks like being a long night, he thought. There were other cars parked in the grounds. Minutes passed; some people were leaving the building and making their way towards the cars parked adjacent to his. He shifted on his haunches, alert.

“So the boss has agreed,” Aquino heard one say. The glow from his cigarette burned bright lighting up his nose. A thin jagged scar ran from below his right ear to the corner of his mouth.

“Yes! Looks like it. It seems that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be repaid no matter what he might threaten to do. You can’t squeeze juice out of an empty bottle. So the boss had to go along with his proposal to salvage what he can; no doubt he has been promised a very big share.”

“Where will it be done?”

“We’ll use one of the small islands.”

“There must be thirty or more of them off Singapore. Pulau Jong, Pulau Berani, Pulau Hantu, Pulau Busing ... which one?”

“I don’t know. They are keeping it to themselves. We are only the small cogs in a big wheel with no power and influence. So mind your own business. Just make sure you have the boat ready and filled up for the journey. We will be leaving tonight. They will probably let us know at the very last minute.”

The two men went their separate ways.

Aquino kept very still. He understood the gist of the conversation carried out in a mix of Chinese, English and Malay, at least enough to make him uneasy. He stood up. His legs were numb and he shook the circulation back into them holding on to the car for support. More people were coming out of the building. He saw his boss; he saw him shake the hand of the long tall Chinese man they called Ah Cheong. He waited; he broke into a cold sweat. Was it his boss, Ahmad, they were talking about? Is their boss Ah Cheong?”

He saw Ahmad walking purposefully towards him, and then he stopped half way and walked back to Ah Cheong. He saw Ah Cheong gesticulating in his direction, shaking his head in an emphatic manner. He waited. Ahmad turned again and resumed his stride towards him. Aquino felt his legs tremble with fear. He tried to get hold of himself and dug his heel deep into the tufts of grass round his feet. He felt the hard dry grass scuffing his ankle.

“I don’t need you this evening. I am going to give you the evening off. Go somewhere, anywhere. But I want you back by tomorrow morning,” Ahmad hollered some twenty yards from him.

“But sir, I do not have a place to go to. Can I go back to the house? I normally sleep on the camp bed in the kitchen. I don’t have anywhere to go,” he repeated.

“Well, you can’t tonight. I have other arrangements. I don’t care where you go, just make sure you do not go back to the house until tomorrow morning at eight. Is that too difficult for you? You can stay here if you wish. Sleep in the car. Don’t make a fuss. Other people would be overjoyed to have an evening off.”

Ahmad stood for a moment glaring at Aquino, daring him to offer further words of protest. Aquino looked away, unable to hold his gaze and too frightened to utter another word. Ahmad sniffed and his eyes narrowed for just a second. Then he turned and made his way back to Ah Cheong.

Aquino watched his departing back; he waited until the two men disappeared back into the building. Then he ran towards the back of the house, keeping to the shadows, until he reached the backyard. All along the wall were boxes and boxes of empty bottles, piled up high. He crept towards the wall. Light poured out through an open window. He slid deep into the shadows between the boxes. He kept very still, anxious not to topple any of the crates. He could hear voices from within. He strained to hear what was being said. He knew that Ah Cheong used one of the back rooms as his office. He had seen his men go in and out through the back door. He looked anxiously at the door. It was shut tight.

He could not hear what was said although he could recognise Ahmad’s voice. Suddenly the backdoor crashed open; the boxes round him rattled with the impact. He shrank further into the gap between the crates. Someone came out. Then he heard Ah Cheong’s voice.

“Take the jeep, make sure you have a tarpaulin that you can use as a cover. Once you have got the child, go straight to the jetty. The two boys will be waiting for you. Tell them to take you and the kid to Pulau Hantu.”

The word
hantu
upset the man. “Pulau Hantu! Someone said that it is just mangroves and black waters. It could be infested with snakes,” he said.

Aquino could see the man clearly now; thin, sinewy with a tattoo of coiling dragons that ran from shoulder to elbow. Aquino could see the agitation on his face even from where he was hidden.

“Yes!
Hantu!
Ghosts! Mangroves and snakes!
Mong!
Stupid!
Diu lei loh mo!
F ... your mother! That is why it has been chosen; and the name
Hantu
helps keep people away. Probably like you they fear the devil,” said Ah Cheong, hurling more expletives at his underling before returning back to the house.

Aquino waited until the man left and then crept quietly in the shadows until he was some 20 yards from the house. He then ran down the dirt road in the direction of the main roads lit by streetlights. He kept going until he reached a small housing estate. Exhausted, he stopped, gasping for breath. Before him were a row of single-story terrace lodgings; they backed onto a small lane. He saw bicycles parked in the lane. He moved quickly towards them; he snatched one and pushed it forward in a trot; he flung his right leg over the seat and pedalled furiously, swerving dangerously out of the lane, to skid down the hill.

The plane landed with a thud and grind, its twin engines roaring loud on the runway. Over the intercom, the speaker announced. “We have now arrived at Changi airport in Singapore.” It droned on about the airport facilities, the penalty for smuggling hard drugs...

Hussein unbuckled his seat belt and stood up, ignoring the request that everyone should remain seated until the seat belt sign was turned off.

“Sir, wait. Please sit down. The plane has not come to a final stop,” said the hostess making her way down the aisle, her tight sarong clung to her swaying hips as she made her way towards him. He caught a glimpse of her long legs with each stride she made. He turned away, pulled open the overhead luggage holder and pulled his bag out with force.

“Sir, we are not disembarking as yet. Would you please sit down?” she commanded.

He ignored her and made his way to the exit. She followed in pursuit. He spun around in anger. She stopped mid-stride and looked at him; her eyes wide, filled with apprehension in anticipation of the stream of abuse that normally accompanied irate passengers. She saw a brief flash of anger cross his face and stepped back, but it vanished as fast as it appeared. He smiled, his lips parting to reveal white even teeth. He looked apologetic.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just want to be first at the door. I have to leave the plane urgently. Could you help me? Please? I need to be first out when the door opens, that’s all. I’m sorry,” he repeated.