Passage of Arms

by Eric Ambler

  “Mr. Nilsen, you wouldn’t be wasting my time. That’s the very reason I want to talk to you. More Americans are travelling now than ever before. New York’s doing a survey of the problems they run into, what they don’t like, what they do like, and so on. We don’t get many stopping over here in Singapore, so if you could spare the time I’d be grateful.”

  “Okay, if you think it’s worth it. When do you suggest?”

  “Well, let’s see. Are you doing anything for lunch?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then why don’t you and Mrs. Nilsen come along to the American Club?”

  “Well, that’s very kind of you, but …”

  “Mr. Nilsen, I’ve got to try and justify my expense account sometimes.”

  Greg laughed. “All right, Mr. Harvey.”

  “Twelve-thirty then? I’ll send the office car for you.”

  “We can take a cab.”

  “No trouble. The car’ll pick you up at twelve-thirty.”

  Greg gave Dorothy the gist of the conversation.

  “Isn’t it a bit unusual?” she said. “Why doesn’t he just come over here?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps that’s the way they like to do things in Singapore.”

  Lane Harvey was a balding man of about forty with an unhealthy complexion and sleepy eyes. He spoke slowly and carefully, as if he were under some pressure that he was striving to ignore, or as if he were listening all the time to the voice of a doctor telling him to relax or suffer the consequences.

  “For a wire service man,” he said, “this place is Siberia. Politically South-East Asia is one of the most important areas in the world. In Viet-Nam, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, Sumatra, Java, the Islands, everywhere around, there’s history being made. But all around. Not in Singapore. We’re in the eye of the storm here.”

  “So all you have to do is interview American tourists,” said Dorothy. “It’s a shame.”

  Lane Harvey smiled. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mrs. Nilsen. It’s more comfortable here than those other places, and I like being comfortable. But an American correspondent who doesn’t wail for the dangers and discomforts of the battle-front is guilty of unprofessional conduct.” He signalled to the waiter for another round of drinks. “Now tell me about your trip.”

  Greg began to do so. Lane Harvey listened attentively, nodding understandingly now and then, but asking no questions. After a few minutes, Greg, beginning to hear the sound of his own voice droning on, broke off.

  “Look, Mr. Harvey, this must be very boring for you.”

  “No, no.”

  “Isn’t there something else we can talk about?”

  “You’ve given me just what I wanted.” He looked across the ranch-style patio. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind. I asked someone else to join us for lunch. He’s very British, pukka sahib and all that, but he knows a lot about Singapore. You might find him interesting.”

  A lean, grey-haired man with a long, narrow head and a receding chin was advancing across the patio towards them. He was one of the few men there wearing a jacket. He came up to the table.

  “Hullo, Harvey. Hope I’m not late.”

  “Not a bit. Sit down and have a drink. Mr. and Mrs. Nilsen, this is Colonel Soames.”

  Over lunch, Lane Harvey insisted on telling the Colonel all about their trip, the details of which he recalled with remarkable accuracy. Greg became embarrassed.

  “Now wait a minute,” he said. “Thousands of Americans must do this trip every year. There’s nothing special about it.”

  “Yes, but we ought to do more about them in Singapore,” said the Colonel. “All we get as a rule are the transient passengers off the boats. They buy a few batik sarongs and that’s the end of it. Now you, for instance. What made you decide to stay in Singapore? It would be interesting to know.”

  Greg glanced at Dorothy and grinned. “We were escaping,” he said.

  The Colonel looked startled. “Indeed?”

  “From the ship’s bore.”

  “Oh now, that isn’t fair,” Dorothy protested. “Arlene may have been difficult, but she wasn’t a bore.” She turned to the Colonel. “You see we were going on to Calcutta, but, well, we thought it might be better to get off here and take a side trip. Anyway, there was some business Greg wanted to attend to here, so it fitted in quite well.”

  The waiter came over and said something to Lane Harvey. He got up apologetically. “Call from New York,” he said. “I’ll only be a few minutes but don’t you wait for me, please.”

  He left them. The Colonel nodded genially.

  “Nothing like combining business with pleasure,” he remarked.

  “Harvey was saying that you knew a lot about Singapore,” Greg said. “Are you in the tourist business here?”

  The Colonel began eating his steak. “I suppose you might call it that,” he replied.

  “Then I expect you know quite a lot of the local people.”

  The Colonel shrugged. “Big place, Singapore,” he said. “Over a million now. Mostly Chinese, of course.”

  “I suppose you don’t happen to know of a Chinese named Tan Yam Heng?”

  Dorothy said: “Oh, darling, I don’t think you ought to bother the Colonel with all that.”

  “No bother, Mrs. Nilsen,” the Colonel said cheerfully. “As a matter of fact I do happen to know the chap. Trade union organiser. That the one you mean?”

  “Well, I heard it put a little more crudely,” Greg said.

  “Labour thug?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Who told you?”

  “A Captain Lukey. Perhaps you know him, too?”

  “Met him, yes. Having trouble with Tan?”

  “It’s a long story. I won’t bother you with it. Captain Lukey doesn’t want to deal with Tan. I wondered why. You confirm what Lukey said. That answers the question. I’m much obliged to you.”

  The Colonel gave him a toothy grin. “Could be another answer though, couldn’t there?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You’re selling something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lukey wants to buy?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Tan Yam Heng’s the contact man?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could be that Tan’s trying to get a commission out of Lukey as well as you, couldn’t it?” The Colonel smeared English mustard on a large piece of steak and popped it into his mouth.

  Greg stared. “But …” he began, then stopped. The possibility had simply not occurred to him.

  The Colonel chewed for a moment or two and then swallowed. “Squeeze,” he said. “Old Chinese custom.”

  “But why didn’t Lukey tell me that?”

  “Might think you already knew. Might think you didn’t want to know. Might think a lot of things. What’s your impression of Lukey?”

  “I only met him yesterday. We had dinner. Do you happen to know anything about these people he represents?”

  The Colonel shrugged. “They’re called the Army of the Independent Party of the Faithful/’ he said. “All I know about them is that their Committee seems to have some sense of self-preservation.”

  “Oh?”

  “They don’t allow Lukey to sign cheques on his own. One of them has to counter-sign. Met that chichi wife of his?”

  “Chichi, Colonel?” Dorothy said. “What does that mean?”

  “Indian slang for Eurasian, Mrs. Nilsen.” He grinned. ’ ‘Anglo-Indians’ as they like to call themselves nowadays.”

  The diversion had given Greg time to think. “Colonel,” he said, “you told us that your business was with tourists. You didn’t mean that quite literally, did you?”

  “I said you could call it that.”

  “What are you really? Police of some kind?”

  “I work for the Government, yes.”

  “And this little party was prearranged, I take it.” Greg’s smile was wide but hostile.

  The C
olonel nodded. “We try to do these things in a friendly fashion.”

  “What things? Is there something wrong, Colonel?”

  “Wrong?” He appeared to consider the adjective. “That rather depends upon your point of view, doesn’t it? Of course there are some cranks who think that gun-running and the arms traffic are evil things in themselves, ethically indefensible. I think that’s a lot of nonsense myself. In your country and mine the people can change their Governments, if they want to, by voting. But there are a lot of places where it takes a revolution to do that. Look at Cuba. If somebody hadn’t supplied that fellow Castro with arms, Batista would still be a dictator. Some people might say that those gun-runners deserved a vote of thanks. Take Sumatra. The people there are afraid that Java’s going to go Communist. They want to secede from Indonesia before that happens. Maybe they’re right. Sumatra could be a self-supporting country. There are quite a few people here who think that she might one day join the Federation of Malaya. But, whatever they do, they’ll have to win their independence first. They won’t do that with words. Mind you, these are only my personal views.”

  “Do they conflict with your official views, Colonel?”

  The Colonel shook his head. “No, Mr. Nilsen, they don’t. And for a very simple reason. I have no official views. I am not entitled to any. My job is to obey orders. The British Government recognises the Indonesian Government, and is in normal, friendly, diplomatic relations with it. That means that we don’t like to add to its difficulties by helping its enemies. At the moment, that means you.”

  “Well, that’s certainly laying it on the line, Colonel.”

  “I’ll go further.” The Colonel took a cigar case from his pocket and offered it to Greg.

  Greg shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  The Colonel took a cigar for himself and glanced inquiringly at Dorothy. “Do you mind, Mrs. Nilsen?”

  “Not in the least.” Dorothy’s tone was icy.

  “You were going further, Colonel,” said Greg.

  “Yes. I should tell you that I was considering having you deported.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Making false statements to the immigration authorities is a serious offence.”

  “False statements? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Steady, darling,” Dorothy said quietly.

  Greg took no notice. He was glaring across the table at the Colonel.

  The Colonel stared back coldly. “Nature of visit-tourism. Isn’t that what you told the immigration inspector?”

  “Of course. It happened to be the truth.”

  “No. Only part of the truth. You are also here dealing in arms.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake! Look, I also had a letter from the man I left in charge of my plant back in America. I even replied to it. So I’m in the die-casting business here, too.”

  “There’s no point in losing your temper, Mr. Nilsen, and it’s bad for the digestion. I said I had considered deporting you. Of course, now that I have met you and Mrs. Nilsen I have no doubt of your good faith.”

  “Is that intended as a compliment, Colonel?”

  “No, reassurance.”

  “The American Consul will be glad to hear that.”

  The Colonel smiled. “You can’t threaten me with your Consul. I know him very well, and he doesn’t have much patience with empty indignation.”

  “How does he feel about petty officiousness?”

  “If I’d wanted to be officious, Mr. Nilsen, we would not be sitting at this table, but in my office. I don’t expect you to like what I’m saying, but I think you might try to understand the political reasons for it. Singapore is a free port and a centre of international trade. I admit that legally there is nothing to stop you or anyone else using its warehouse facilities as you are using them. But we don’t like it, and you can’t expect us to welcome your presence here.” He smiled at Dorothy. “I’m speaking officially, of course, Mrs. Nilsen.”

  “But you don’t disapprove of selling arms to anti-Communists?” demanded Greg.

  “Personally, not in the least.”

  Greg laughed shortly. “You change hats rather easily, don’t you, Colonel?” he said, and had the satisfaction of seeing the Colonel redden.

  “I’m sorry you think that,” he said stiffly. He looked at his watch. “I think it’s time I was getting back to my office.”

  The look at the watch was evidently some sort of signal, for, almost immediately, Lane Harvey returned to the table.

  “Sorry to have to leave you like that,” he said when the Colonel had gone. “You know how it is.”

  “Yes,” said Greg acidly. “The Colonel explained.”

  Lane Harvey was unembarrassed. He even grinned. “Funny old guy, isn’t he?” he said. “I thought you’d like him.”

  IV

  Late that afternoon, Inspector Chow interviewed the driver of the American Syndicated Wire Service car. Then, he reported to Colonel Soames.

  “They went straight back from the American Club to the Raffles Hotel. The man was expecting a telephone call from Manila. The driver had no difficulty in hearing their conversation.”

  “Well?”

  “The man was very angry, sir.”

  “I imagine he was.”

  “With Mr. Harvey, mainly. He used strong language and talked of reporting the incident to Mr. Harvey’s superiors in New York, with a view to having him dismissed.”

  “He’ll think better of that.”

  “Yes, sir. He spoke of humiliation and feeling ridiculous. He also apologised to the woman and talked of forgetting the whole deal. That was a reference to the arms, I take it.”

  “Pulling out, eh ? Good show. I was pretty sure he was an amateur.”

  “Later, sir, he changed his mind.”

  “Oh?”

  “The woman said that he had a business obligation to Captain Lukey.”

  Colonel Soames stared. “Mrs. Nilsen said that? Are you sure?”

  “That is what the driver reports, sir.”

  “But she was on my right side from the start. I could see it.”

  “According to the driver, sir. Mrs. Nilsen made some highly unfavourable remarks about you. She appeared to think that you had insulted Mrs. Lukey.”

  “I?” Colonel Soames was genuinely bewildered. “I only asked her if she’d met the woman.”

  “Yes, sir.” Inspector Chow’s face was quite expressionless. “It appeared that you used the word ‘chichi’.”

  “What about it? She asked what it meant. I told her.”

  “She appeared to think that it was equivalent to using the word ‘jigaboo’ in America.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, sir, but I assume that it must be something to do with the race question.” Inspector Chow hesitated. “The woman used one very unladylike phrase.”

  “Well?”

  Colonel Soames could not be quite certain, but he thought he detected a hint of relish in Inspector Chow’s tone as he answered.

  “She said you were a bigoted old bastard, sir.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE CALL to Manila came through on time.

  Greg was still out of temper, and cut through Mr. Tan’s preliminary courtesies almost brusquely.

  “Mr. Tan, I’ll come to the point. The prospective buyer doesn’t want to deal through your brother.”

  “Oh. Does he give a reason ?”

  “He says he doesn’t trust him, but I have an idea that that’s not the real reason.”

  “I see. And what do you think the real reason is, Mr. Nilsen?”

  “Are you paying your brother a commission?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I think he’s trying to make the buyer pay him a commission for the introduction as well.”

  There was a pause. “What do you propose, Mr. Nilsen?”

  “That I negotiate on my own with the buyer, and that you tell your brother to beh
ave himself.”

  “Leaving everything in your hands, Mr. Nilsen?”

  “You’re covered. Your brother has the customs documents. He can hold on to those as security.”

  There was another pause before Mr. Tan said: “Very well. I will cable to my brother.”

  “Today?”

  “At once. It is a pleasure to do business with you, Mr. Nilsen.”

  At five o’clock there was a call from Captain Lukey.

  “Did you inspect the stuff?” Greg asked him.

  “Yes. It seemed pretty fair. What about Tan?”

  “He’s taken care of.”

  “Good show.”

  “Do you want to talk business?”

  “Be over in a jiffy.”

  Despite his admitted eagerness to buy, the Captain proved to be a stubborn bargainer. It took an hour and three stengahs to force his price up to fifty thousand dollars. His method of haggling was to isolate two items, the machine pistols and the bazookas, admit their worth and then insist on putting a nominal valuation on the remaining items. He wore a tortured expression throughout, gnawed steadily at his moustache as if it were hurting him, and covered sheets of hotel stationery with pointless calculations. In the end Greg became impatient.

  “Captain, we’re not getting anywhere. Sixty-five thousand is rock bottom. If you don’t want the stuff just say so.”

  “But if we disregard the rifles …”

  “Well, let’s not disregard them. They’re there and that’s the price.”

  Eventually, at sixty-two thousand five hundred, there was a meeting of the minds. When they had shaken hands on the deal the. Captain grinned.

  “I’d have paid sixty-five if you’d stuck out.”

  “Well, I’d have gone down to sixty if you’d stuck out,” Greg replied, “so we’re both happy. Now, about terms. Cash on delivery of course. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. If you’ll get a certified cheque made out and meet me at the Customs House tomorrow morning, we’ll square it all away.”

  The Captain stared at him indignantly. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, old boy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I’m only the liaison officer, the agent. I have to follow the drill.”

  “What drill?”

  “Well, I told you. Those people are funny about money. They like to do the paying out themselves.”