by Eric Ambler
The Colonel hammered on the table with his fist. “We are not turning them over to the authorities,” he shouted.
“In effect you are.” Hallett had taken over again. “That is unless they have a safe conduct out of the country.”
The Colonel turned to Sutan.
Sutan shrugged wearily. “Gani learned nothing that matters. Do what is best.”
The Colonel looked with disgust from the white men to Major Gani. His eyes hardened.
“We had good plans for you, Gani,” he said. “Perhaps, if your General does not love you enough, we shall still carry them out. Or perhaps, if you stay in Labuanga, there will be another day.”
“Perhaps,” said Major Gani,
The Colonel motioned to the telephone. “Then see if your fine General will speak to you.”
V
General Iskaq had not been unduly worried by the absence of news from the jail. An explosion had been heard in that direction; but the sounds of firing had later ceased. He had assumed that the situation at the jail was now similar to that at the power station. When he heard Gani’s voice on the telephone, he was prepared to be calm and matter-of-fact. By making no reference at all to Gani’s hysterical behaviour earlier, he would emphasise its absurdity far more effectively than by drawing attention to it.
When he heard what Gani had to say, a spasm like an electric shock seemed to jolt him from his heels to the top of his head. His ears began to sing.
Through the singing he became aware of Gani’s repeating urgently: “General! General! Can you hear me?”
He controlled himself carefully before he answered: “You say you are a hostage?”
“Yes, General. You see, sir, the position is this …”
“Answer my questions!” He had heard the brisk self-assurance flowing back into Major Gani’s voice, and, in a sudden rage, shouted the order.
“Certainly, General. But you see …”
“What steps were taken about the white prisoners?”
“Unfortunately, Captain Voychinski died. The others are alive. It is about those persons …”
“And Sutan?”
“Major Sutan is beside me, sir, and Colonel Oda.”
“Why have they not killed you?”
“If you will permit me to explain, sir.”
He explained.
The General listened with mounting bitterness. Fantasies began to crowd into his mind. He would countermand his standing orders about night operations and the Inner Zone, take his armoured cars and field guns out, and blast the jail into a heap of rubble. He would kill everyone in it, including Major Gani. The anti-tank weapons of the raiding force would be crushed beneath the wheels of the armoured cars. There would be a holocaust. Or, simpler, he would refuse the safe conduct, tell them to kill Gani, and then hang the three whites publicly in front of the Stadhuis. Or, wiser, more cunning, he would put a cordon round the jail area, cover it with the field guns, and starve them all into submission. He knew that none of those things was really going to happen, that he could never be sure that the power station and jail attacks were not tricks to lure him out of the Inner Zone so that the garrison could be chopped to pieces by the main body of the insurgents. He also knew that, however much he might want to discard Major Gani, the time had not yet come when he could safely do so. Without Gani, the arming of the militia could not be completed, and he, the Military Governor, would be left again to plead im-potently for reinforcements which would never arrive. He knew, too, that he could never justify, even to himself, the proposition that the life of one Indonesian officer was worth sacrificing for the pleasure of punishing three whites.
He heard himself saying: “Very well. I understand. But what guarantees do we have that they will keep the agreement?”
“One moment, sir.”
“I had better speak to Oda myself.”
“One moment, please, sir.”
There was a pause and silence. Gani had had the impertinence to put his hand over the microphone. Then another detested voice addressed him.
“Governor, this is Ross Hallett. I am at the jail in order to protect the lives of two American citizens. Colonel Oda, who commands the troops now in control of the jail compound, has requested my assistance and that of the British Vice-Consul in the matter of this proposed exchange of prisoners.”
“What kind of assistance?”
“As referees, Governor. It will be five hours before a Malayan Airways freight plane leaves that could take Mr. and Mrs. Nilsen and Mrs. Lukey out of Indonesian territory. During that period, Colonel Oda’ s troops will leave the jail compound. They will take Major Gani with them. So that there will be no misunderstandings, or unfortunate incidents, Mr. Wilson will accompany Major Gani and remain with him. I shall remain at the airport with Mr. and Mrs. Nilsen, Mrs. Lukey and three of Colonel Oda’s officers, until the plane leaves. I shall then telephone Mr. Wilson and the exchange will be completed. Major Gani will report to you. Colonel Oda’s officers will report back to him.”
“You expect me to trust you?”
“Colonel Oda is prepared to trust us, Governor. However, should either side attempt to take advantage of the situation, Mr. Wilson and I will personally offer ourselves as hostages until the agreement is carried out.”
The General thought for a moment. The possibilities of trickery inherent in such a situation were many. Mr. Hallett had obviously envisaged some of them. For instance, he had stipulated a Malayan Airways plane. That precluded the use of an Indonesian plane to take the prisoners into the air and set them down at Labuanga again after Gani’s release. But, what was to prevent Oda, on learning that his white accomplices were free, from killing Gani and laughing at Mr. Wilson’s protests? The lives of three expendable junior officers? The General sighed. He knew the answer to that. No insurgent leader who hoped to survive would dare to abandon so treacherously even the most useless of his men.
“How can I believe that you will not favour the traitors in arranging this exchange?” the General said at last.
“Do you really believe, Governor, that Mr. Wilson and I are dishonest?”
The General examined his inner thoughts and found, somewhat to his surprise, that his truthful answer to that question would be ‘no’. He decided to ignore it.
“Very well,” he said coldly.
“Then perhaps I may discuss the detailed arrangements for the exchange with a member of your staff.”
“I will discuss the arrangements personally.”
When the conversation was finished, the General made a few notes and sent for his senior colonel.
Only one thing puzzled him. Gani had tortured Sutan. Sutan and Oda were friends. How was it that such men, whom he himself knew and had once respected, could forgo the satisfaction of tearing Gani to pieces with their own hands in order to permit three whites to escape without a scratch on their ugly skins? It seemed incredible. And yet, from another point of view, it showed how easily Asians became weak and corrupt through association with white men. It showed how right he had been himself to resist the temptation to come to terms with the Party of the Faithful. The thought was comforting.
VI
It was four o’clock in the morning when Hallett set out in his bullet-scarred car to drive Greg, Dorothy and Mrs. Lukey from the jail to the airport. Following him, in Major Gani’s personal jeep, were the three insurgent officers who would replace them as hostages when the plane took off three and a half hours later.
Hallett had managed to retrieve the two passports and an envelope with Greg’s valuables in it from the wreckage of the head jailer’s office; but, at his lukewarm suggestion that some way might later be found of picking up their other belongings from Harmonie Hotel, Greg had shaken his head.
“We’ve caused enough trouble,” he had said. “As far as Dorothy and I are concerned they can keep everything, camera included. We just want out.”
Mrs. Lukey had not been so accommodating. Hallett had explained briefly to Greg an
d Dorothy the substance of the negotiations for their release; but Mrs. Lukey had understood them at the time and, as a result, had acquired an exaggerated idea of the strength of their position.
“I do not see why someone should not be sent from the hotel to the airport,” she had said. “I have a very nice overnight case. It was very expensive. I do not want to lose it. These people are all thieves.”
Hallett had started to remind her that the Inner Zone was still closed, when Dorothy had firmly taken Mrs. Lukey aside. Neither man had heard what she said, but, thereafter, Mrs. Lukey had been subdued, and there had been no more talk of her overnight case.
The General had evidently decided that the opportunity of impressing three insurgent officers with the strength of the Labuanga garrison had been too good to miss, and the airport building was bristling with troops when they arrived. As Hallett presented himself to the officer in charge, an armoured car moved in menacingly, if pointlessly, to cover the approaches to the bus yard.
They were taken to a large store room in the customs section to await the arrival of the plane. Hallett asked for food and tea, and rather to his surprise, some was presently brought. Access, under escort, to a near-by washroom was also granted, providing that not more than two persons went at a time. Dorothy and Mrs. Lukey were away taking advantage of this concession, when Greg raised a question that was beginning to trouble him.
“Does everybody know about all this?” he asked. “I mean, will it get in the newspapers back home?”
Hallett’s smile was not entirely free from malice. “If it gets in the newspapers here,” he said, “you can bet your life it’ll be picked up back home. So far, it’s all been kept secret. I don’t imagine the General’ll want to give it any publicity now. The press do what they’re told here anyway. Where you’ll have to be careful is in Singapore.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you’ll be put on this plane under armed guard. You can’t stop the crew talking when they get back. You might be questioned when you arrive. If I were you, I’d have a nice dull story ready in advance for the pilot.”
“Like what?”
“Technically your visa’s not in order. You were only cleared for Bali. You’ve been held here under guard. You could be pretty mad about it. Why didn’t Garuda Indonesian Airlines check your visa carefully before flying you out from Singapore? Goddamn Asian inefficiency. That sort of stuff. I’m not telling you to say that, mind. That’s just advice.”
“Thanks. I wish there were something I could for do you.”
“Don’t worry about that, Mr. Nilsen. There’s no real harm been done.”
“Major Gani’s going back to work, isn’t he? That’s harm. You can’t have enjoyed making that deal.”
“No?” Hallett laughed. “I was never so relieved in my life. When the General agreed to swap you three for that sadistic bastard, I thought he must be kidding.”
Greg stared. “Why?”
“You don’t know General Iskaq. I’d have said he’d have ditched his own wife for the chance of keeping his hands on you three. He hates the whites. Always has.”
“So you said. But you knew he couldn’t ditch Gani.”
“Couldn’t? I was almost sure he would. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
“But in view of what he and Gani are doing, surely he had to have him back.”
Hallett frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, aren’t they hijacking all these insurgent arms shipments to arm the Communists? Isn’t Gani the Party go-between?”
Hallett said nothing for a moment, then looked across at the three officers. They were curled up on top of some packing cases, asleep. He looked again at Greg.
“Who told you that?”
“Voychinski. Didn’t you know? He spoke as if it were common knowledge.”
“Well, it isn’t. Can you remember exactly what he said?”
Greg could. He would remember every moment he had spent in that jail for the rest of his life.
“Is it important?” he ended.
“If it’s true, and that could easily be checked, it’s important enough to relieve Iskaq of his job and start a clean-up. Assuming the Area Commander in Medan were to find out, of course.”
“Will he?”
“That’s not for me to say. All I’ll have to do is send an information report through. You’ll be quoted as the source, naturally.”
“Do I have to be?”
“I’ll have to send through a report about your arrest and the reasons for it.” His smile was no longer unfriendly. “This could just about square the account,” he added.
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“It is. By the way, was that cheque of Sutan’s with your other things? I didn’t look to see.”
“I don’t know.” Greg got his passport out and opened it. The cheque was still there. He looked up at Hallett. “Did Major Sutan mention it to you at all?”
“No.”
“That’s funny. He must have known they’d found it, but he said nothing to me before we left. I know he was in pretty bad shape, but you’d think he’d have been anxious about that.”
“Perhaps he took it for granted that an experienced arms peddler like you would have asked for another cheque if he needed it.” There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes.
Greg was silent for a moment, then he folded the cheque carefully and put it in another pocket. “Did you see Voychinski’s body?” he asked.
Hallett seemed to find nothing inconsequential in the question. He nodded. “Major Sutan evidently felt that a mutilated corpse ought to prove something about the Central Government. All it proves really, of course, is that in civil wars there are always men around like Major Gani.”
“I think that Voychinski was that kind of man himself.” Greg remembered something. “By the way, did you or Wilson tell Dorothy how he died?”
“I didn’t, and I don’t imagine Wilson would. Maybe Mrs. Lukey told her. Why?”
“Well, she didn’t appear to worry too much about those guards who were killed. But Voychinski dying, that really seemed to upset her.”
VII
The freight plane from Koetaradja and Medan landed at seven-thirty and took off again for Singapore at eight. The captain was a New Zealander. Greg had no difficulty in boring him with complaints about Indonesian red tape and a garbled tale of mislaid overnight bags. He listened absently, lent Greg an electric shaver, and returned to his seat in the nose. They did not see him again.
Most of the interior space was taken up by pieces of machinery going to Singapore and beyond for repair, and mail-bags. The plane was unpressurised, cold and noisy. They sat on the mail-bags, dozing fitfully, until the Malay radio operator came aft to warn them that in five minutes they would be landing in Singapore. The plane taxied in to the freight sheds and the operator led them across to the passenger arrival section so that they could go through immigration and customs. He left them there, politely declining the tip Greg offered him.
It was the first time the three of them had been alone together and able to talk freely since the evening of their arrest. Mrs. Lukey, hollow-eyed and plaintive when she had been awakened on the plane, now became flustered and embarrassed. As soon as they were through the customs, she hurried off to telephone her husband.
Greg sighed. “Oh, my God! Do we have to wait for her? All I want in the world at the moment is the Raffles Hotel, a bath, and a drink.”
“Me, too, darling,” said Dorothy; “but I think we have to wait a moment.”
“I suppose so. Don’t you think one of us ought to tell her that we’re not holding her responsible for anything?”
“I don’t think so.” Dorothy’s tone was surprisingly firm.
“Just as you say. Only she looked perfectly miserable to me.”
“I don’t think we’re feeling exactly gay, are we, darling?”
He kissed her, but she drew away.
“Don’t
. We both smell of that place still.”
“I know.”
They stood there unhappily until Mrs. Lukey returned.
“I had to telephone,” she explained breathlessly. “I knew he would be terribly worried when we did not get back yesterday. He sent a cable off but there was no reply. He is coming over immediately with the car.”
Dorothy nodded. “That’s good, but I don’t think we’ll wait, Betty.”
“Oh, but you must.”
“No. We’ll get a cab to the Raffles.”
“That’s right,” said Greg. “Maybe we’ll talk later, or tomorrow morning when we’re rested up a bit.”
“But he said he wanted to see you.”
“Sure, but not right now, eh? We’ll be in touch.”
She seemed both relieved and distressed to see them go.
In the taxi they were silent until, as they were nearing the hotel, Dorothy said: “Did you get that cheque back?”
“Yes, it was still in the passport.” He paused. “We don’t even have a toothbrush,” he went on. “I suppose we’d better stop at a drug store and buy a few things.”
By the time they had bathed it was twelve-thirty. Greg rang down to the bar for double dry Martinis, but neither he nor Dorothy wanted any lunch. While they were drinking the Martinis, he telephoned Cook’s.
“This is Mr. Nilsen … Yes, we’re back from Indonesia … Yes … Well, we decided to cut it short. Now look. I’d like you to check up for me on boats sailing during the next couple of days for Calcutta … No, that doesn’t matter. British, Norwegian, German, anything you like, as long as it’s comfortable. We’d want a large stateroom with bath, air-conditioned if possible … I see. Okay, but not too slow and it’s got to be comfortable with good food. At the same time I’d like to know about flights to Calcutta … Via Bangkok. We might want to stop over there for a couple of days … Yes, that’s right … No, not today. We’ll come around and see you in the morning … Thanks.”
He hung up and his eyes met Dorothy’s.
