Bitter Sweet Harvest Part 22

"h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo! 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.

"h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo! 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 antic.i.p.ation 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 s.p.a.ce 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 sh.o.r.es. 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 pa.s.sed. 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 b.u.t.t 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 sh.o.r.eline. 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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. Jose had told him that the truck that had been there earlier had left the jetty sometime during the night. From this, he had a.s.sumed 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 Jose 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 Jose 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, Jose."

Mark straightened up immediately. He saw Jose. 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 Jose's companions. He recognised one of them: Kam, the Detective Superintendent. He held his breath. Why was Kam with Jose? How did Jose 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 Jose 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.

"So," said Kam as he approached the canoe. He studied Mark at length, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll keep what I wanted to say until later when we have got the boy. I want you to stay here. We'll surround the hut. It is already dark and the water has receded almost completely. In this low tide, it will not be difficult. The soft sand will m.u.f.fle the sound of our footsteps. We have a helicopter as back up. It will keep some distance away so as not to attract attention. It will come in only at the last moment."

"No! Please let me come with you," pleaded Mark, "I will not be in your way. Tim will not be as frightened if he sees me coming to the rescue. He might scream if he sees your men and that would alert the two men, even if you succeed in getting to the hut."

Kam hesitated for a moment. "Right, let's go! You just follow and keep out of the way. Do exactly as I tell you."

Kam and his police commandoes spread out, moving in a pincer-like formation towards the hut where the two men had emerged earlier. They walked soft-footed across the sand, carrying their arms. Footprints formed and vanished, washed away by the lapping waves of the receding tide. Their bodies cast long shadows in front, like shadow puppets mimicking and pre-empting their every movement. Mark kept close to Kam. They crouched low as they moved forward. They kept their eyes fixed firmly on the hut in case one of the occupants should come out and somehow manage to spot them in the dark. The distant roar of the sea camouflaged all sound. Within minutes, they reached the base of the stilts. Kam motioned everyone to move into position. Two of the commandoes clambered up a stilt with the aid of a rope thrown around an anchor post on the jetty. Once on top they laid belly down on the jetty a short distance from the hut, their guns pointed at the doorway. In the meantime, the two other men clambered up a pair of stilts directly below the hut itself. They moved quickly and climbed with simian-like agility. They grasped the stilts as high as they could, then drew up their knees. Clutching the stilts firmly with their feet, they straightened their legs pushing their bodies further up the stilts and reached upwards with their arms. Once again they grasped the stilts, drew up their knees and repeated the climbing sequence. The movements were fast, graceful, effortless. They pulled themselves up and clambered onto a wooden platform that ran around the hut, then made their way towards the doorway. Once there, they drew their firearms and stood with their backs flat against the wall.

The sound of music drifted from the hut, interspersed by harsh guttural swearing. Dice were thrown and cards were unveiled. Slap! Slam! A child whimpered. A string of expletives followed, "Diu lei loh mo! F... your mother! Stop crying!"

Mark placed a foot forward, ready to sprint to the jetty. He looked at Kam who shook his head and silently mouthed, "No! Follow me."

Kam moved round the stilts supporting the hut with Mark close on his heels. Kam knew these fishing huts would have another exit in addition to the main one that led out to the jetty. To the front of the hut, facing the sea, there was a door that opened on to a platform used for casting fishing nets. Now, with low tide, the drop from the platform to the ground was great. It was unlikely that anyone would choose to jump from that height, but, still, precautions must be taken, thought Kam. He could not spare any of his men to keep watch here; he needed them to guard the front exit, which the two thugs were most likely to use to escape. He motioned Mark to station himself below the exit that faced out to sea, pointing upwards to tell him to keep watch. That should keep Mark out of the way, he thought, and he might be useful in the unlikely event that someone did decide to jump. He left Mark and made his way towards the jetty, to the men he had left there.

Suddenly one of Cheong's men appeared at the doorway leading out to the jetty. He sauntered nonchalantly out of the hut, one hand dug deep into his trouser pocket fishing out his pack of cigarettes. He turned to speak to the man within. A sudden movement by the doorway caught his eye. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but the policeman who had been laid on his belly was already moving forward. He took him from the behind, pressing one arm around his victim's throat in a stranglehold and using his free hand to twist the man's right arm behind his back. They fell with a thud! Immediately the rest of the police force rushed forward. The lights went out in the hut and it was engulfed in darkness momentarily before the powerful torches of the police lit the area.

"Give up! You are surrounded! Hand over the boy!" Kam's voice boomed through a loud hailer. "Walk out with both hands on your head."

"I have the boy and I have a knife to his throat!" shouted the accomplice from within.

"You would not wish to harm the boy. It will only add to the seriousness of your crime. Hand over the boy peacefully and we will take this into account. This is your only chance for reprieve."

Silence followed.

At the opposite end of the hut, Mark stood below the platform and the seaward exit, every sinew in his body ready for action. He was half-hidden by the protruding planks as he peered intently through the gaps between them at the exit. Suddenly, the shadow of a man appeared barely visible against the dark night sky. Like lightning he leapt clear off the platform. He landed badly on his back with one leg caught twisted beneath him. Mark saw the struggling bundle that the man was trying to hold. Mark stepped forward and quickly grabbed the bundle from the man and embraced it in his arms. Within seconds, Kam's men surrounded them.

Chapter 42.

The book lay open on An Mei's lap, unread. All around her was darkness except for the light coming from the solitary table lamp behind her. She flipped through the pages at random; the text appeared like meaningless squiggles. She snapped the book shut. She could not read. She could not concentrate. Torturous thoughts tormented her ever since Detective Superintendent Kam left. She had told him all she knew of Mark and Aquino's whereabouts. Now all she could think of was Tim and Mark. Has Kam found them? She could not bear to think of the danger they must be in, danger that she had put them in. She could not dismiss from her mind visions of what might be happening. She worried and fretted. Over and over again, she prayed. "Please, please, let them return safely."

The door opened. Nelly came in. She took one look at An Mei and said, "Go to bed. Take a rest. I'll sit up and wait."

"I can't." An Mei looked at the clock. "You go back to bed. There is absolutely no need for you to be tired as well.

"I'll make some tea," replied Nelly. "Why don't you lie ... look!" A sudden flash of light caught her attention. She pointed to the window. Two cars had swerved into the street. The rotating beams of the lights perched on top of them lit up the road and penetrated into the room. An Mei rushed to the door. The doors of the cars opened. A policeman came out of one of them, followed by Mark, holding Tim.

"Mummy, Mummy!" shouted Tim.

Mark released him and he ran as fast as his little legs would take him to An Mei. She scooped him up into her arms and snuggled her nose into his little body, covering his face with kisses. Tears rolled down her face. Mark reached her and took her in his arms, with Tim squashed between them. They laughed. Joy, pure joy bubbled out of them. Yet, they cried. Their eyes streamed. Nelly looked on and reached for her shirt ends, bringing them to her eyes as she too joined in their happiness and relief.

Kam came forward. He did not wish to interrupt their joyful reunion, but he was in a hurry. He stood aside for a moment watching them. He cleared his throat. They were totally wrapped up in each other. They did not hear him. He was forced to interrupt them. "Mmm! Excuse me, but I have to leave. The two men have been taken straight to the police station for questioning and I have to be there. I hope that it will not be long before we catch Ahmad. I am sure we can make them talk. We'll take Aquino with us. He will be useful."

The smile on An Mei's face vanished. She had forgotten about Aquino. A feeling of guilt and apprehension crossed her face. She looked at Mark and then at Kam. "Will Aquino be all right?" she asked. "I have reneged on my promise not to tell the police. He fears the police. He fears that he will be deported. We promised him he would come to no harm and that he would be able to stay. At least, let that promise be kept."

Kam looked at her sternly. "It is not your place to promise him something that you have no authority over. As far as we are concerned, if he is a bona fide visitor in Singapore and not an illegal immigrant he will not be deported from Singapore for illegal entry. I have no idea of his status in Malaysia. That would be a matter for the Malaysian authorities. However, as to the role he played in the kidnapping, it is a different matter..." Kam let his sentence hang.

"If it were not for him we would not have found Tim. I would hope that will count for something. In any case, he was forced into the situation and came to us as soon as he could," protested Mark. He looked beyond Kam's shoulder. Aquino was looking at him, his face, white with fear. "Please sir, if there is any leniency that can be applied to his case, I would appreciate it. I'll stand guarantor."

Kam swept his eyes over Mark. "You sir will also need to come to the station to make a statement. There are many questions to be answered. Your interference with the law, trying to take the matter of rescue into your own hands, obstructing police work are all serious matters."

Mark kept silent.

"It's my fault," said An Mei. "I persuaded him to do it."

Kam regarded her with his steady gaze. He had been struck by what Nelly had told him about An Mei's situation. His view of her had changed dramatically since then. When he first saw her with Mark, he had allowed his own bias to see her as an ang moh lover, a woman that prefers white skin. He had been contemptuous then, especially when Hussein called to say that he was her husband. Now he saw her differently and with compa.s.sion. So he softened his stance and returned his attention to Mark.

"However, Mr. Hayes has also shown exceptional courage during the rescue. We'll leave this for tomorrow because we have more urgent matters to attend to. But both of you are not to leave the country. We'll call for you tomorrow."

An Mei tucked a blanket around Tim and straightened his bedclothes. She kissed his cheek, stroked it and bent once more to kiss it, lingering on to smell him, his little boy scent. It was a habit that she had not been able to cast aside. She had to restrain herself from picking him up and pulling him close to her again. Mark placed his arm around her shoulder and took her hand. "Let him sleep. He is exhausted and so are you," he said, leading her away.

They had made up a little bed in their bedroom in Jane's house, unwilling to let Tim out of their sight. They walked to the far end of the room and sat down, sharing a low seat by the bay window. An Mei placed her head on Mark's shoulders. She felt safe when he was around. It felt like he had taken on her burden and worries, and made a coc.o.o.n for her to nestle in. She felt loved and needed. It was sufficient that he was there. She sighed and closed her eyes and began to drift off.

Out of nowhere, Hussein's face came to her mind's eye, another love, a different love, a different time. For a split second, she felt its pull and was confused. She struggled, shaking her head to will the image away. She woke herself up. She opened her eyes wide and turned to look at Mark. She needed to affirm that it was a dream. He looked at her mystified. "What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied. She drew her finger along his face, down his nose and jaw line seeking to imprint his face in her mind. She sought to wipe out the image of Hussein. She kissed Mark, gently on his lips and his eyebrows and then more fervently. He held her tight. They sat not speaking, his arms around her. Her serenity returned. With it came complete relaxation; then exhaustion hit her. The room fell quiet. Her eyelids grew heavy and she dozed off. Mark saw her sleep; his eyelids began to droop and within minutes he too fell fast asleep.

At the break of dawn, An Mei stirred. And with that awakening came a crush of all the worries that had been temporarily pushed aside by sheer exhaustion. She squirmed from under the weight of Mark's arms and sat upright, the tension in her body returned as though she had never rested. Every muscle in her body felt tight. She could feel it in her neck, between her shoulder blades. Mark woke up and rubbed his bleary eyes. When he opened them, he could see the anxiety on her face.

"We did not have a chance to talk last night," said An Mei immediately. Her voice was urgent. "Hussein is here, in Singapore, and I met him. He believes that Tim is his. I told him Tim was yours, but I do not think he believed me." She broke off. A heat seemed to have risen from the depth of her to fill her chest and lungs. She had no tears. She had used them all up. The inevitable had arrived and she would have to face up to it. "Now, begins another battle," she said. Her voice was resigned.

Mark moved closer to comfort her; he felt deeply her despair.

"I so, so fear losing Tim. Tell me, what shall we do?" asked An Mei.

"We will have to wait to see what Hussein wants. He might not pursue us if we can convince him that Tim is not his. After all he has not made any effort to look for you all these years." Mark was wary whenever he spoke of Hussein to An Mei. In the past he had not wished to delve too closely into An Mei's feelings for her former husband for fear that he might discover something he would prefer not to know. The past was the past. The circ.u.mstances had changed now. Hussein was with them and Mark felt he had to tackle the issue headlong. He watched his wife intently to see how she would respond.

An Mei looked away unable to bring herself to tell Mark what Hussein had said to her; that he wanted her back. A hatred and anger rose in her when she thought of what Hussein had said. It was not only anger against Hussein but also an anger directed at herself. She was angry that he had managed to stir something that she thought was long dead. He had managed to disturb her peace with a mere sentence. She still thought of what could have been. She despised herself for her weakness. She could not understand why she was doing this to herself. Was it because she hankered for what she could not have and in the process prized too low a love that she did have?

Mark withdrew his arm from around her; he sensed that she was withholding something from him. Her face was an open book. The wistfulness had lit her eyes for but a second when he mentioned Hussein, but he saw it as though it was written in bold letters. Hurt and anger took over. "Huh! Where is this Chinese inscrutability that people speak about," he mumbled to himself. He went to Tim's bed and bent over to kiss him lightly. He grabbed a shirt and headed for the door. Jealousy filled him; and fear, fear of losing her.

"Mark!"

"I'm going for a walk."

"We need to talk."

"Yes! We do, but I need to think first. You do too."

"Please!"

He went back to her. "I'm not angry, just hurt. Until you tell me everything we cannot be talking truly. I am leaving you some s.p.a.ce to think, as I need to think myself. If you wish to keep Tim, if we wish to keep Tim," he corrected himself, "we must not return to Malaysia where we will immediately come under a legal jurisdiction about which we know so little. I have been doing a bit of research and have called up old friends in the UK on claims of paternity. We'll discuss this when I come back."

He hesitated a moment and then planted a kiss her on her forehead and left. She watched his departing figure, the slump in his shoulder. A deep remorse welled up in her. She went back to Tim. She stood looking at her son, trailing her finger on his sleeping form. "Mummy is a fool," she said to him. "What an idiot I am." For in that instant when Mark turned away and left, she knew that between the two men, she valued and loved Mark more. What she felt for Hussein was nothing more than nostalgia for something that never really was. She suddenly felt afraid. She feared she might lose Mark.

A shadow fell across the bed. She looked over her shoulder.

"An Mei," said Nelly. "Why did Mark leave? What have you said to him? He looked so sad, so bewildered."

"I have been stupid."

"Is it Hussein? Think carefully. He is not worth it."

"I know, I know. I keep thinking of the past, of the good times, the love that Hussein and I had when we were young and a sense of regret keeps returning to my thoughts. It keeps drawing me back. At the same time, I feel anger and shame; I am ashamed of myself. I feel that I am betraying Mark even by having these thoughts."