by Eric Ambler
Mr. Tan never discovered whether the Indian had used the words ‘we’ and ‘profit’ at that moment intentionally; just as he was never quite clear how it had come about that, twenty minutes later, the contents of the box file had been scattered over his desk, and he had been listening bemused to a dissertation on the economics of public transport operation in rural areas. It had been quite difficult to break in and regain the initiative; and even then he did not keep it long.
“Why don’t you begin with one bus? Why must you have two?”
“People must learn quickly that the buses are reliable or they will keep to their bicycles. The service must become indispensable, Mr. Tan. With only one bus it cannot be guaranteed.”
“But if you were to buy one new one, you would have the reliability you want.”
“We cannot afford an experienced mechanic full time to begin with. Therefore we cannot carry out maintenance at night, as the big operators do. What I propose is that we buy two of these reconditioned buses. I know this firm at Acton in London. They have long experience of the work. The chassis are old, but very good. The engines are new. The bodies have been adapted for Far East work. Look, here is a picture.”
Mr. Tan waved the picture aside. “Yes, yes. It is all very interesting. But why have you brought this project to me?”
Girija returned to his seat on the other side of the desk before he replied, slowly and methodically: “Firstly, Mr. Tan, because a bus service such as I have described would be a logical extension of the Anglo-Malay Transport Company’s business. Secondly, because of the trade journals I subscribe to, Mr. Wright knows of my interest in such matters. He knows of my respect for you. He would not think it too strange that a new bus company which you owned should employ me as manager. Thirdly, because if a new company called Kuala Pangkalan Transport Limited were formed, with a nominal capital of fifty thousand dollars, and if, in consideration of my signing a service agreement as managing director of that company, I were allotted fifty per cent of the ordinary shares free, I could return your cheque to you without presenting it for payment. Fourthly, because a company with your reputation behind it would have no difficulty in securing a franchise to operate the service. Fifthly, because I think you know that I can be trusted and would serve our interests well.”
Mr. Tan thought carefully. What the Indian had said about the need for a bus service was undoubtedly true. As a business venture it was probably sound. The capital of a new company would not have to be fully paid up. Fifteen thousand would buy the two reconditioned buses. On the other hand, if the project were a success, a fifty per cent interest in it was eventually going to be worth a lot more than twenty-five thousand dollars. He would certainly be wise to keep the ordinary shares in his own hands. A counter-offer of non-voting preference shares might be the answer. Ingeniously worked out, it could, he was sure, be made to seem advantageous. Meanwhile, he would employ delaying tactics, wear the Indian down by keeping him waiting, and then, if necessary, dictate the terms. He fingered the papers from the box file as if they were of small importance, and then pushed them aside.
“Very well,” he said; “I will look through these estimates and proposals, and perhaps make some other inquiries. Later, possibly, we could meet again and continue the discussion.”
Girija nodded. “Of course, Mr. Tan. On the terms I have mentioned, the whole matter can be very easily settled—” he paused and flashed his most annoying smile—“any day before your cheque falls due for payment next week.”
III
The day after Greg and Dorothy arrived back in Wilmington, Kuala Pangkalan Transport Limited took delivery of its first vehicle at Singapore.
W. W. Beiden, the maker’s Far Eastern representative, was on hand to promote an atmosphere of goodwill. The new owners’ Managing Director, G. Krishnan, was there to sign the necessary documents on behalf of his company.
A ten-ton crane picked the bus off the deck of the ship and placed it on the dockside.
Privately, Mr. Beiden thought that the thing looked like a cattle truck; but, as most of its passengers would presumably be coolies, that probably did not matter. The important thing was that the Indian seemed to be pleased. With all this German competition in the low price field, you had to be on your toes. When the second reconditioned unit had been delivered, he would start plugging their own new economy job. Meanwhile, he had a luncheon date at the Yacht Club. As soon as he could gracefully do so, he left.
The two drivers Girija had brought with him had both spent some years on army vehicles, and knew the type of chassis well. When everything had been checked, the new battery installed, the temporary registration plates fitted, and the tank filled, the engine was started. It had a leisurely, powerful sound that was very satisfying.
One driver got up into the cab, the other sat behind him on one of the passenger benches.
The driver at the wheel grinned down at Girija.
“Can we drive the tuan to his hotel?”
Girija smiled and shook his head. “I’ll be waiting for you in Kuala Pangkalan,” he said.
He did not ride in buses; he operated them.
But he stood there, listening and watching, as the big gears grated, the big tyres began to turn and the bus rumbled away towards the dock gates and the journey north. He wished that his father, the subahdar, could have been there.
The End
