Passage of Arms Page 5

  “What sort of person? An Englishman?”

  “It would be better if he were not a subject of the Federation or of Singapore. I am thinking of the emergency regulations.”

  “A Frenchman or an American, perhaps?”

  “There are Americans doing such business.”

  “Could you approach one of them?”

  Yam Heng pursed his lips. “This would be too small for those men, I think. Besides, they would want too much for themselves. We do not need an experienced man.”

  Siow Mong thought for a moment. Then he asked: “Have you met Khoo Ah Au?”

  “Who is he?”

  “I was forgetting that you have been out of touch with family affairs. He married our niece in Manila last year. They live in Hong Kong now. Perhaps he would know of a suitable American. I shall be going there next month. I might discuss the requirements with him. Possibly …” He broke off. “But this is all talk. You say that to ship the goods is only a matter of organisation. How would you do it?”

  Yam Heng told him.

  His brother listened and was impressed. “It might be done,” he admitted grudgingly at last.

  They discussed some details and, later that day, Siow Mong telephoned Girija. He referred to their recent conversation and then said that although he, Mr. Tan, could do nothing in the matter, he had heard of a Mr. Lee who might be able to give useful advice. A meeting was arranged.

  III

  Girija never guessed that ‘Mr. Lee’ was Mr. Tan’s brother. Mr. Tan was refined. Mr. Lee had coarse, heavy features, a sullen expression and a hectoring, impatient way of speaking that bordered on rudeness. Girija did not like him.

  They met at a rest house not far from the estate. Mr. Lee had taken a room there for the night and they identified one another without difficulty.

  The first meeting was brief. Mr. Lee produced Girija’s list and asked him if he were prepared to prove the existence of the items listed by producing a sample of any one of them that Mr. Lee himself selected.

  Girija nodded. “I have already said that my friend could give a sample if required. I ask only that the item chosen should be small and light.”

  “How small? How light?”

  “Small and light enough to be carried in the pocket. You would not ask me to cycle along the road with a rifle on my back.”

  “Is a machine pistol loading clip small enough?”

  “Yes. And I will bring a few rounds of ammunition with it.”

  “When?”

  “Monday.”

  “Today is Thursday. Why not tomorrow?”

  “It cannot be arranged before Monday.”

  “Very well. But I have no time to waste.”

  On Sunday, Girija went out to Awang and made his way up to the dump. It was several months since he had last repaired the shelter and the screens were in a bad state. The termites were back again, too. He hoped that Mr. Lee was in as much of a hurry as he professed to be.

  On Monday, he met Mr. Lee again and showed him some ammunition and a clip.

  Mr. Lee wiped the grease off the clip and examined the German markings carefully. Finally, he put the clip in his pocket.

  “That would seem to be in order,” he said. “Naturally, I will have to check these marks. In the meantime I must have some information. Where would delivery take place?”

  “In this area.”

  “What do you consider would be needed to transport the goods?”

  “One thirty hundredweight truck.”

  “Are the goods near a road?”

  “Not at present. They can be brought to a loading point fifty yards from a road, but that operation will require three days’ advance notice.”

  “That may be difficult.”

  “It must be allowed for.” Girija spoke with assurance. He had had three years to solve this problem in logistics, and knew that there was only one answer to it.

  “You say fifty yards from a road. Would you and your friend be there to help with the loading? It would have to be done at night.”

  “I or my friend would be there. Two men could do the loading in less than an hour. The heaviest boxes are those with the rifles. There are nine of them and they weigh about forty pounds each. But they have rope handles.”

  Mr. Lee looked at him with interest. “You speak as if you have had experience before.”

  “I am a business man, Mr. Lee.” Girija paused. “Perhaps, now that you have examined the samples, we should discuss financial arrangements and terms.”

  Mr. Lee took the list from his pocket. “These prices you mention are foolish. You knew that, of course.”

  Girija smiled. “I knew that you would say they were foolish, Mr. Lee. And, of course, I understand. These are always difficult goods to sell. The right buyer may not be found immediately. The demand fluctuates. Handling and storage charges are high. You must work on a very small margin of profit. That is why I am prepared to pay fifty per cent of these estimated prices to the selling agent.”

  “You are prepared, Mr. Krishnan? What about your friend?”

  Girija was not disconcerted. “I am authorised to speak for him at present,” he said. “I say ‘at present’ because my friend is considering the possibility of going to Singapore and investigating the market personally.”

  “Could your friend move the goods?”

  “He is a patient man. He could wait.”

  Mr. Lee did not reply immediately. He was tired of Girija’s toothy smile and the knowing lilt in his voice. “Your prices are foolish,” he repeated coldly.

  Girija smiled again. “Then I will reduce them, Mr. Lee. I will accept thirty thousand dollars Malay net.”

  “That is ,an insignificant reduction.”

  “It is the only one I can make.”

  “I will pay twenty thousand.”

  They compromised in the end on twenty-five thousand, to be paid one month after the goods were handed over. A protocol for the transaction was also agreed. Under this, each of the high contracting parties was protected against murder or trickery on the part of the other. The meeting ended in an atmosphere of goodwill and mutual respect.

  The following day Tan Yam Heng took the train back to Singapore.

  The following week Tan Siow Mong flew up to Hong Kong. He was there for only two days; but he was able to spend an entertaining and constructive evening with his niece and her husband, Khoo Ah Au.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TWELVE HOURS out of Kobe, the Silver Isle ran into bad weather and more than half her ninety passengers took to their cabins.

  She was owned by the Isle Line which operated a freight run between San Francisco and Calcutta, calling at Yokohama, Kobe, Hong Kong, Manila, Saigon, Singapore and, occasionally, Rangoon. With the growing popularity of round-the-world trips, the company’s passenger traffic had increased rapidly, and they had refitted two of their newer ships so as to enlarge and improve the cabin accommodation. The Silver Isle was one of these. Unfortunately, the improvements, which included an extra deck, had also added considerably to her top hamper, and in any but the calmest sea she rolled heavily.

  For Greg Nilsen, however, the bad weather came as a blessing. Both he and Dorothy, his wife, were good sailors and could go down to the dining-room with their appetites unimpaired. True, Dorothy did complain that the incessant rolling made her tired; but he could only view that as a minor inconvenience. As far as he was concerned, any weather conditions that kept Arlene Drecker confined to her cabin were fine.

  Greg was an engineer and the owner of a precision die-casting business in Wilmington, Delaware. He and Dorothy had been planning their round-the-world trip for over two years; ever since their younger boy had gone to college.

  They could have done it earlier if they had been prepared to fly most of the way; but Dorothy had said no. She had wanted to do it properly; by sea, and in small, slow boats.

  “After all,” she had said; “we’re only going to be able to do it once in our lives. All the t
ourists go to Tokyo and Hong Kong and Paris and Rome, places like that. I think we ought to see some of the little out-of-the-way places as well; the ones most people just read about, or see pictures of in photographic books; wonderful places like Tahiti, where the cruise ships don’t go.”

  Greg had agreed with her. However, a few evenings spent with maps, sailing lists and an eighteen-inch globe had modified their views. They had found, for example, that if they wanted to go to Japan and Hong Kong, a one-day visit to Tahiti would add two weeks to their travel schedule. In the end it was plain that, even if they compromised on the size and speed of the boats, confined themselves to the regular ports of call and cut out South America completely, the trip would still take at least two months. If they did not want to spend all the time travelling, it would take three.

  Greg had some very capable men working for him; but at the management level, Nilsen Die-Casting and Tools was very much a one-man business. A three-month vacation could not be embarked upon just when he felt like it; and, although he had for some time been planning a reorganisation that would enable him to delegate more responsibility, it involved changes that could only be made gradually. He had allowed two years; one in which to make the changes, and one in which to see that they worked; but, even so, it had still not been easy to get away. There had been some moments in the month before they had sailed when difficulties over a new Government contract had made it look as if the trip would have to be called off. However, the difficulties had been ironed out in time and they had left Wilmington early in October.

  Because of the amount of baggage they were taking, they had gone by train to San Francisco. They had sailed on the seventh.

  Neither of them had travelled much by ship before. During the war, Greg had gone to Europe in a troopship. Together they had been to England and France and back on the United States and the America. That was all. They had received much advice from more experienced friends. One of them, Greg remembered later, had had a solemn warning to deliver.

  “It’s the first two or three days you want to be careful of,” this man had said; “and especially the first day just after you sail. You’re going to be with those people for weeks. But you’ll be feeling strange and want to be friendly. You’ll go into the bar and have a drink to celebrate the start of the trip. Watch it. Don’t start getting friendly with anyone. Wait. You start talking to someone, and before you know it, bingo, you’re stuck with the ship’s bore. It can ruin a trip.”

  Arlene Drecker was not the ship’s bore; but, as far as Greg was concerned, she became an even more maddening affliction.

  After the ship had sailed, he and Dorothy had stayed on deck until they had cleared the Golden Gate. They had promised the boys to make a complete photographic record of the trip, and Greg had been up on the boat deck with the 16 mm. Bell and Ho well for the best part of an hour. It had been a sunny day, but with a cool breeze. They had been glad, when there was no more to see aloft, to get down into the warmth of the bar for a pre-lunch drink.

  Arlene had been sitting by herself at a small table about six feet away from them. She had been writing radio telegrams and sipping a Martini. Then, the pen she had borrowed from the writing-room had run out of ink, and she had looked round in exasperation. Greg had politely offered her his. She had accepted. Later, when she returned his pen, she had asked them to have a drink.

  “No, no. You join us,” Dorothy had said.

  Arlene had smiled. “You know, a gal travelling alone has one big problem—how to persuade people to sometimes let her buy a drink.”

  Nevertheless, she had joined them and had another Martini. They had gone down to lunch together. Later that day, the chief steward had approached Greg with the permanent seating plan for the dining-room, and asked if he and Mrs. Nilsen minded having Miss Drecker sit at their table. There were no single tables, he had explained, and Miss Drecker did not want to be with a crowd. Greg had had little choice but to agree.

  That night, when they went down to dinner, there had been a bottle of champagne on the table; to thank them, Arlene had explained, for letting her sit with them, and to drink a toast to the voyage.

  Later, in their cabin, Greg had grumbled about this. He did not care for champagne which always gave him indigestion; but Dorothy had not been sympathetic. It showed, she had said, that Arlene did not intend to impose on them. The champagne had been a very nice way of telling them that. The fact that it gave him indigestion was beside the point. Dorothy had taken a liking to Arlene.

  She was a tall, angular blonde with large white teeth, a beige complexion and very thin legs. Dorothy deduced from things said that she was probably in her late forties; but she certainly looked younger. She dressed smartly and in a vaguely masculine style that suited her; although she was inclined sometimes to overload herself with chunky gold bracelets and wear ear-rings which accentuated the narrowness of her head. She talked freely, and not unamusingly, about herself in a carefully mellifluous voice which creaked slightly on each change of register.

  Her father had been a Los Angeles real estate man. During the war she had been in the American Red Cross and had stayed on with that organisation in France and Germany until forty-seven. Then her father had died and she had gone back to California. She had a house in Palm Springs now, which she rented when she went away on her trips. She had never had any great desire to get married, although she liked married people and was crazy about kids. But things had to work out right, or it was no good. She had a sister who had been married four times, and what a mess and misery all that had been. Her attitude towards men was one of sardonic camaraderie tinged with disdain.

  By the fourth day out, Greg’s dislike of her had become intense. The bottle of champagne had been a minor irritant; but when at dinner on the second night a bottle of claret had appeared, he had objected.

  “It was very thoughtful of you, Miss Drecker,” he had said; “but Dorothy and I don’t drink wine as a regular thing. So if you don’t mind …”

  “But the steward’s already opened it. Oh come on, Mr. Nilsen. Live dangerously.”

  Dorothy had giggled. The steward had smiled and poured the wine.

  “Now look, Dorothy,” Greg had said when they were alone; “Arlene Drecker can drink all the wine she wants and so can you for that matter. But I’m not having her tell me what I’m going to drink.”

  “She didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I don’t care what way she meant it. The way it worked out was that I had to drink something I didn’t want or seem boorish. Dammit, she’s not our hostess on this ship. I wish she’d stop behaving as if she were.”

  “She’s only trying to be friendly.”

  “Listen. If you want wine or we want wine, I’ll order it.”

  The following night Arlene had ordered burgundy; but Greg had taken the precaution of ordering in advance a bottle of rosé and the two wines arrived together.

  “Too bad,” Greg had said blandly; “what about joining us and having rosé, Arlene?”

  “Rosé with roast beef?” Arlene had raised her eyebrows. “Thanks, I prefer burgundy.”

  But the next night, when the steward had produced the partly consumed bottle of burgundy, Arlene had not pressed them to share it with her. Greg had succeeded in making his point. It had not been until later in the evening that he had discovered that she had paid his bar bill for the day. Dorothy had not been able to help laughing.

  Two days before they had reached Yokohama a notice had gone up announcing that during the ship’s stay in port, conducted sight-seeing tours ashore had been arranged. Those passengers wishing to take advantage of the special rates offered should inform the purser’s office within the next twenty-four hours.

  Greg had put his and Dorothy’s names down. At lunch Dorothy had mentioned the fact.

  Arlene had stared at her incredulously. “Sight-seeing tours! Honey, you must be out of your mind.”

  “What’s wrong with sight-seeing tours?” Greg had asked. “Af
ter all, that’s what we’re making the trip for— to see sights.”

  “Oh, Greg!” Arlene had laughed tolerantly. “Have you ever been on a Japanese sight-seeing tour?”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes, and I can tell you it’s the end. They just cram you into a bus, give you a box lunch and then drive you from one clip joint to another. They don’t want to show you what you want to see. They just want you to buy things—cameras, fans, bits of fake jewellery.”

  “That’s not what it says on the notice-board.”

  “Naturally. Look, if you want to go rubber-necking, let me take you. I’ve been before. All you do is hire a car and have the man drive you around. You’re on your own. You can stop when you want and go on when you want.”

  Dorothy had turned to him uncertainly. “What do you think, Greg?”

  “Well, we’ve put our names down now.”

  Arlene had sighed. “Well, take them off again. Why not? If you want to be tourists you may as well do it properly. This is not the best time of the year to come to Japan, but, since you are here, at least make yourselves comfortable.”

  Unhappily, she had been right. Those who had gone on the sight-seeing tour had returned exhausted, ill-tempered and late for dinner. Dorothy had had a fascinating day and bought a pair of carved-soapstone hairpins which the barman said were worth at least three times what she had paid for them.

  The following day, and then later at Kobe, the performance had been repeated. It could have been his fancy, but Greg suspected that both Dorothy and Arlene had a tacit agreement to ignore his leadership and run things their own way. When the table steward had reported that Miss Drecker was staying in her cabin, seasick, it had required an effort of will to utter the appropriate words of regret.

  The bad weather lasted for two days and Greg thoroughly enjoyed them both. When, on the third day, Arlene made a wan appearance at lunch, he was almost as solicitous as Dorothy.

  Then came the misunderstanding over the ship’s shuffle-board tournament. The Doctor had wanted Greg and Dorothy in his team, and Greg, without consulting Dorothy, had accepted. When the first round was announced over the ship’s loudspeakers, Dorothy was missing. Greg found her eventually in Arlene’s cabin playing Scrabble. By the time he had explained what had happened and they had reached the deck, the teams had been rearranged and they were out of the tournament.