by Eric Ambler
IV
Greg was feeling good that evening. The idea of his having been asked, in all seriousness, to act as front man for a Chinese pirate had appealed to his sense of humour.
At least, that is how he chose to explain the sudden lightness of heart that had come to him as he was changing for dinner. He regarded himself, not without reason, as a mature and level-headed man. If anyone had suggested that, somewhere in the back streets of his mind, another Greg Nilsen—a roistering, romantic, ten-year-old swashbuckler—had escaped from custody and was out enjoying a game of cops and robbers, he would have been angrily incredulous. It had not yet occurred to him to ask himself why, if the whole thing were simply a good joke, he had not told Dorothy about it.
Jimmy Khoo brought the car to the boat at seven o’clock and drove them across to Aberdeen.
The trouble with Arlene started in the sampan which took them out from the quayside to the floating restaurant. Half-way out across the harbour, she suddenly jumped up out of her seat.
“I’ve been bitten,” she said to Dorothy.
“Oh no!”
“I’ve been bitten.”
“Where?”
The light sampan rocked dangerously.
“Better sit down,” Greg cautioned them. “You’re rocking the boat.”
Dorothy sat down, but Arlene ignored him. “I’ve been bitten,” she repeated maddeningly and, pulling up one side of her skirt, began examining the back of her leg.
The sampan lurched over in the other direction. The Chinese girl, standing on the stern counter with the oar, was thrown off balance. The old woman who owned the sampan screamed. Greg felt the wicker chair he was sitting on start to slide. He grabbed at the side of the boat.
“For God’s sake sit down!” he shouted.
Arlene sat down, the Chinese girl giggled, and a minute later they were at the restaurant steps. Greg paid off the sampan and joined Dorothy and Arlene on the veranda. They appeared to be having some sort of argument.
He heard Dorothy saying: “I’m sure Greg didn’t mean to …” And then Arlene turned to face him. Her nose and mouth were pinched and white with anger.
“I’m not used to being yelled at like that,” she said.
“Arlene, I only asked you to sit down. That sort of boat upsets pretty easily.”
“There was no need to yell at me like that.”
“I yelled because I didn’t want to have to swim the rest of the way.”
“Oh really, Greg !” This was Dorothy. “I do think you ought to apologise to Arlene. I know you meant well, but it wasn’t very polite.”
“All right, I’m sorry. Now, for goodness’ sake, let’s go eat.”
It was not a gracious apology and nobody attempted to pretend it was. The situation was not improved when they found that the desirable tables on the upper deck were all reserved, and that they would have to sit down below surrounded by very noisy mah jongg players. Arlene had said that it was unnecessary to make table reservations. Greg pointedly refrained from reminding her of the fact. The critical moment came, however, when they went with the waiter to the big traps moored alongside the vessel to choose the fish they would eat.
There was a man with a long-handled landing net standing by the traps. As the customers pointed to the fish they wanted, he would scoop them dexterously out of the water and fling them on to a long tiled slab which led to the kitchen.
One of the fish he pulled out was some kind of grouper. It was a heavy fish and it landed on the slab with a force that stunned it. For a moment or two it lay there almost still, its eyes staring vacuously, its big slack mouth gaping in an expression of the deepest gloom.
Arlene glanced at Dorothy. “Isn’t that someone we know?” she asked dryly.
She did not look at Greg; but Dorothy did, and then burst out laughing.
“Oh really, Arlene,” she said; “he’s not looking as miserable as all that.”
Then, she squeezed Greg’s arm in affectionate apology; and, of course, he had to laugh, too.
But there was murder in his heart, and, at that moment, a resolution was born. Somewhere, somehow, their plans, his and Dorothy’s, would have to be changed. He was not going to go all the way to Calcutta in the Silver Isle with Arlene Drecker.
When they arrived back at the ship, the two women went on board while Greg stayed to settle the account with Jimmy. He added a generous tip.
“Thank you very much indeed, sir.” Jimmy took off his cap and bowed, but made no move to leave. He was looking at Greg expectantly.
Greg smiled. “Oh yes. You want to know about that proposition.”
“I hope you can accept, sir.”
“Well, I don’t know, Jimmy.”
“Sir, all that is necessary is that you sign some papers in Manila and Singapore.”
“People have been hanged before now just for signing papers, Jimmy.”
“In this case, sir …”
“No. I tell you what I will do. When we get to Manila I’ll see your Mr. Tan if you’ll have him contact me on the ship. And then I’ll decide. Okay?”
Jimmy beamed. “Certainly, sir. That will be entirely satisfactory. Thank you very much indeed, sir.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for. And mind you explain the exact position to him. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”
“There will be none. And may I say what a pleasure it has been to serve you, sir?”
“The pleasure’s mutual. Be seeing you again some day, maybe.”
“I sincerely hope so, sir.”
When Greg got back on board, he found that some mail had been sent up to the cabin from the purser’s office. Among it was a progress report from his vice-president in charge of production. Everything at the plant was running smoothly. He didn’t have to worry about a thing; just enjoy the trip.
The following morning, Khoo Ah Au dispatched two cables; one to his wife’s father in Manila, the other to his wife’s uncle in Kuala Pangkalan.
The cable to Mr. Tan Tack Chee read: “Contact possible prospect Mr. G. Nilsen passenger S.S. Silver Isle arriving Manila l4th respectful affection wife and self. Khoo.”
The cable to Mr. Tan Siow Mong read: “Have advised Manila suitable prospect arriving S.S. Silver Isle 14th respectful affection wife and self. Khoo.”
That night Mrs. Khoo had the unusual and elevating experience of receiving an overseas telephone call from her father in Manila. The only disappointing thing about it was that more time was devoted to the business talk with her husband than to the discussion of her possible pregnancy.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two days later the Silver Isle docked in Manila, and hordes of scarlet-shirted Filipino stevedores swarmed on board. They seemed to penetrate into every corner of the ship. Some even found their way into the writing room, where they lounged with their feet up on the tables until indignant stewards shooed them away.
The passengers had been warned that Manila was one of the worst ports in the Far East for pilfering. Greg was depositing a package containing Dorothy’s jewellery in the purser’s safe, when a steward came up with the message that a Mr. Tan Tack Chee would like to see him. The gentleman was in the bar.
Dorothy was waiting for him by the notice-board. They, or rather they and Arlene, had decided not to go ashore immediately, but wait until after lunch. When the purser’s clerk had made out the receipt, Greg went over to her.
“Darling, I meant to tell you before. There’s a man here who wants to see me on business. It’ll only take a few minutes. I’ll see you up on the sports deck.”
Dorothy pulled a face. “Business? I thought we’d left that behind.”
“It’s nothing important.”
“I didn’t know you did any business here.”
“It’s just a man I promised to see.” There was nothing untrue about the statement; nevertheless he did not feel quite easy about it. “I’ll tell you the story later,” he added. “Look, darling, do you mind holding on to the camera
for me?”
He went up to the bar. It was crowded with dock police, customs officials, and the usual collection of ‘business’ visitors thirsty for free drinks. The steward who had brought him the message pointed to a table in the corner of the bar. Greg made his way over.
Seated at the table with an open brief-case in front of him was a middle-aged Chinese. He wore a well-pressed light-grey suit and thick tortoiseshell glasses. He was writing busily in a loose-leaf notebook. As Greg approached, he glanced up.
“Mr. Tan?”
“Mr. Nilsen?” As he spoke he rose and they shook hands.
Mr. Tan’s voice and manner were subdued, and his hand was like a soft bag of chicken bones. It would have been difficult to conceive of anyone less piratical. Greg, whose imagination had had three days to prepare for the encounter, was disconcerted.
“My son-in-law in Hong Kong cabled me that you would be passing through Manila,” Mr. Tan said easily. “He hoped that I might perhaps be of some service to you and Mrs. Nilsen.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you, Mr. Tan. But I rather understood that there was a matter of business you wanted …”
“Do you or Mrs. Nilsen know Manila?” Mr. Tan’s interruption was so gentle in tone that Greg scarcely noticed the firmness of it.
“No, we don’t.”
“Then, may I make a suggestion? I have my car on the wharf. It would be a favour if you would allow me to place it at your disposal.”
“Mr. Tan, I don’t think …”
Mr. Tan held up a slender hand. “And an additional favour if you would allow me to be your host at lunch. You understand, I do not have the professional skills of my son-in-law, but my driver knows Manila well and can show you what there is to see.”
“As a matter of fact, Mr. Tan, we’ve sort of committed ourselves to taking another passenger along with us. A lady.”
“She is included in the invitation,” Mr. Tan said promptly.
“I think …”
“I understand perfectly, Mr. Nilsen. Please feel free to consult with your wife before you accept.”
Greg hesitated. “Mr. Tan, I think I had better explain that I have not mentioned to my wife the business we might have to discuss.”
“Naturally, Mr. Nilsen, one does not trouble ladies with business.” He smiled. “I am in the so-called import-export market. That is a very loose term covering everything from powdered milk to earth-moving equipment.”
Greg nodded uncertainly. “I guess so. If you’ll excuse me I’ll go and find my wife.”
Half an hour later the four of them left the ship and walked along the quay to the car park. As they approached, a pink Cadillac swung out of the parking line and pulled up alongside them. A Filipino driver sprang out to open the doors and they all got in.
Mr. Tan took them to his house for lunch. It was in the Spanish style and built on a hillside overlooking the bay. Mrs. Tan, obviously a second wife, proved to be young, very attractive, and a graduate of the University of Southern California. She wore toreador pants, and barbecued steaks for them on the patio. Arlene was enchanted. Mr. Tan talked about Philippine politics, skin diving and the amusing misfortunes of an American film company who were trying to shoot on location up in the hills. He did not once mention business.
After lunch, the car dropped him back at his office, which was in a modern, American-style building, and then the Filipino driver took them on a tour of the city. When they returned to the office Mr. Tan’s secretary informed them that he had had to go out, but that he hoped Mr. and Mrs. Nilsen and Miss Drecker would dine with him that evening. The car would call for them at seven. Mr. Tan would wear a white tuxedo.
Dorothy glanced at Arlene with a smile of triumph. “We’re certainly getting the full treatment,” she said. “He must want those die-castings pretty badly, eh, darling?”
Even Arlene was looking at him with approval.
Greg mumbled something non-committal. He was feeling thoroughly confused. His neglecting to tell Dorothy about the conversation with Jimmy Khoo in Hong Kong had been natural enough, he assured himself. The commercial technicalities about nominees, manifests and shipping in bond would only have bored her; and, besides, they had agreed from the start that business talk was to be taboo on the trip. The last thing he had been prepared for was having to account for Mr. Tan in the role of a generous host. When he had first reported the invitation to lunch, Arlene had been there, and it had been impossible to go into long explanations. “He’s in the import-export business,” had been all he had said; but Dorothy had jumped to the conclusion that the man wanted to buy die-castings.
He had not realised it until later, or he could have said something to her in time. As it was, the first he had heard about it had been during the afternoon’s sight-seeing. He had been listening to the driver talking about the village he came from, when a fragment of conversation from the back seat had caught his attention.
“You see,” Dorothy had been saying, “Greg’s plant only does this special precision work. Most of his contracts are with the Government, or people like airplane manufacturers, or those other people who develop the missiles. He’s never had much time for export business before.”
Now, he was almost sorry that he had not taken the risk. He had manoeuvred himself into a false position where Dorothy was concerned; and it looked very much as if Mr. Tan had manoeuvred him into another. It was going to be embarrassing now to say ‘no’ to Mr. Tan or even to question him closely, when the questions could only imply doubt of his good faith. The fact that Mr. Tan’s hospitality had a clear purpose was beside the point. Wisely or unwisely, the hospitality had been accepted; and so, an obligation, of courtesy at least, had been incurred.
Dinner was at a country club just outside the city, and had been specially ordered by Mr. Tan. The rum drinks were innocent-tasting but very potent. Towards the end of the evening, Arlene became emotional and, in trying to express her gratitude for the wonderful day she had had, was moved to tears of joy. Her mascara ran and she was forced to retire to the powder room. Mrs Tan and Dorothy decided to join her there. Greg and Mr. Tan were alone.
There was a pause.
“This has been a very enjoyable day,” Greg said.
Mr. Tan smiled. “For me, too, Mr. Nilsen. Although—” he smiled again—“it would have been more enjoyable if you had not been so troubled by your suspicions.”
“Suspicions?”
“My son-in-law in Hong Kong is a very praiseworthy young man. He is not a man of great substance as yet, but he is honest and hard-working. Otherwise, I would not have allowed my daughter to marry him. But he has a weakness.”
“Oh yes?”
“A taste for melodrama. Did he mention piracy, Mr. Nilsen?”
“He did, yes.”
“I was afraid so. He lives in the richly flavoured past of lions and dragons. It is an engaging weakness, but embarrassing in business.”
“I guess it would be.”
“You know, Mr. Nilsen, this small parcel of arms was acquired by accident, but, as far as I am concerned, perfectly legally. I will confess to you that its existence is inconvenient, and I would like to disembarrass myself. A technicality makes this difficult. You, as you know, are in a position to overcome the technicality. That is the length and breadth of the problem.”
Greg pushed his drink away. “Mr. Tan, are you on the level?”
“Sir?”
“I want to get this straight. These are arms from Red China originally intended for Red terrorists in Malaya. Is that correct?”
“Perfectly correct. As I said, they fell into my hands by accident.”
“What sort of accident?”
“The man who seized them off Hainan left them with me as a pledge for a loan. Later, I am afraid, he went bankrupt.”
“And now you want to sell them to the anti-Red people in Indonesia. Is that correct?”
“Entirely correct, Mr. Nilsen.”
Greg considered for a moment
and then nodded. “Okay, it’s a deal.”
Mr. Tan stroked his chin thoughtfully before he said: “Very well. I will bring the papers to you to sign in the morning.” He hesitated and then went on. “I will be frank with you, Mr. Nilsen. I am not entirely happy with this arrangement.”
Greg stared at him. “You mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“Indeed no. On the contrary, I am quite satisfied with the arrangement as far as it goes. My regret is that it does not go further.”
“How do you mean?”
“My brother in Singapore is capable of handling the shipping and delivery arrangements, but when it comes to dealing with the buyers, I am not sure that he is the best man. An American can always drive a harder bargain in that business. How long will you be in Singapore, Mr. Nilsen?”
“Two days.”
“Not very long. I had hoped you might consider conducting the negotiations personally. For an additional consideration, of course.”
Greg shook his head. “I don’t think I’m qualified to do that, Mr. Tan. And, as you say, I won’t be there long enough.”
“I quite understand. Ah, here are the ladies.”
The ship was sailing at midday. At ten-thirty, Mr. Tan arrived with the papers for signature.
The first was a consignor’s note requesting the Anglo-Malay Transport Company of Kuala Pangkalan to ship the goods listed from the Tak Wah Godown and Storage Corporation, Manila, to the Chen Wharehouse Company, Singapore, to be held in bond there pending further instructions. The second was an export licence giving Greg’s name and address in the United States and a list of the goods to be exported. This required his counter-signature and passport number to become effective.
When Greg had signed, Mr. Tan gave him copies of the documents. “As soon as you arrive in Singapore, Mr. Nilsen,” he said, “my brother, Tan Yam Heng, will contact you. I have written his name down here. He will have copies of the bill of lading and go with you to make the proper customs declaration. He will then ask you to sign a paper transferring the ownership of the goods in bond to a company or person to be designated later.
