The Heart Radical

by Boyd Anderson

  However … the next morning the sun did not rise red and the heavens did not burst into song. In spite of the exhilaration I took with me to bed, when I woke up it was just another day. As I ate my soft-boiled egg I realised that outside it was still Ramadan, that Mr Yew’s tent would still be roped down tight and the geese still needed feeding.

  Pa had already left for the office, even after coming home long after we had all gone to bed. Mei and Li were spending the day with friends, as though that could be more important than seeing another day in court, so that meant Ah Mun Cheir would take me on my own in the bus. Altogether it was a bit of a letdown and it was made all the more so because no one else seemed to now feel the same exhilaration I felt.

  Was it really just another day? Was I wrong to think that everything was now different, just as my father predicted it would be? Of course, I knew when Pa said that, he was referring to the matter of the killing of the High Commissioner, not Toh Kei’s trial, so was I perhaps reading more into all this than I should? With only Ah Mun Cheir to talk to, I was lost. She could not care less about Toh Kei or the trial or my father’s triumph, not even about the High Commissioner. I didn’t think she even knew what a High Commissioner was, as ignorant of the fact as I was before he was killed and it was explained for me in the newspaper.

  For three days the Straits Times front page had been filled with stories and pictures about Sir Henry Gurney. There were maps to show where the ambush happened, pictures of his Rolls-Royce with all the bullet holes circled, pictures of the lonely road with a big X to show the exact spot where he died. Right across the top of the page were big black headlines with big black words like ASSASSINATION that stretched from one side to the other. I had never seen such big black front pages in the Straits Times.

  But then, on the morning after that first day of the trial, when I saw that day’s paper, I knew I had been right in the first place – everything truly was different.

  Just as I had heard my father predict months before to Uncle Raja, the trial was indeed all over the front page –

  TOH KEI TRIAL: SENSATION IN COURT

  I looked up ‘sensation’ just to make sure it was what I thought it was, and I was right. It meant exactly what I thought the day was – exhilarating! Apart from anything else it was a whole day when people got to ask as many questions and got as many answers as they wanted.

  There was a photograph of the judge in his wig and another of my father, the same passport photo they had used before:

  Judge Pretheroe: ‘Leave the definition of my job to me’

  K. C. Tan: ‘Act of war’

  The whole day’s trial was there, word for word, spreading from the front page to the inside. The judge might not have thought it was worth writing much down on his big sheet of paper, but the Straits Times had recorded everything. Little subheadlines were scattered in the columns, like Provocative, Shanghai and Batang Kali. There was a cartoon with a lawyer that had to be my father standing before the judge and saying, ‘My lord …’, and the judge, who looked so comically incensed he was about to explode, saying, ‘My lord indeed!’

  There was another of a fat policeman with two guns on his belt, looking more like a cowboy in an American film. He was handing a PD101 to another policeman standing stiffly to attention next to him, and this policeman had a cap covered with braid and his face was covered with a fried egg, but even so it could only be Mr Gregg. Two-Gun Rex and his Marshal, it said.

  As much as I tried to interpret, I didn’t understand much of this, but I knew that the day I had seen in court was truly a sensation, and I could not wait to get back there.

  This time, however, I was as good as on my own, with Ah Mun Cheir sitting on one side and ignoring everyone, and Uncle Raja on the other side concentrating so hard that he was virtually doing the same. My sisters weren’t there, and neither was Dr Thumboo, which meant Toh Kei never once looked up at the public gallery.

  ‘Order as prayed,’ Judge Pretheroe said again, and then he set about doing his best to make sure that the second day of the trial would be less of a sensation than the one before.

  ‘I have something to say about these proceedings before we start,’ he said. ‘Specifically, I wish to make a point with regard to the goings-on in this court yesterday. One learned counsel here before me chose to go on to the extent that this court, a witness, a person outside this court, and even the law itself were made a mockery. Overextended is a term counsel himself employed. Respect for this court is the first requirement for entering into it. Sine qua non, I would say to counsel here before me, counsel who have demonstrated a fondness for the Latin. Persistence in arguing what I have indicated at length to be a thoroughly bad point is not to serve a client well. In my court a bad point is failure to recognise that a spade is a spade, or in this case that an emergency is an emergency. Should this flogging of a dead horse continue I will find myself having no recourse but to consider the issue of contempt. Now … as Francis Bacon said, an over-speaking judge is no well-tuned cymbal, and to keep these proceedings in tune I trust I will have no reason to have any more to say on this matter. Do you share that trust, Mr Tan?’

  Pa slowly got to his feet. ‘I beg your lordship’s pardon if my respect for this honourable institution has been found to be anything less than absolute. As Francis Bacon also said, my lord, he that hath knowledge spareth his words, which is why I am sure no over-speaking on your lordship’s part will be required.’

  ‘Is that a yes, Mr Tan?’

  ‘Indeed it is, my lord. However, might I beg your lordship’s indulgence with just one other observation of Mr Bacon, an appreciation of whom I share with your lordship … a man must make his opportunity as oft as find it. Might I say that I have been endeavouring on my client’s behalf to make opportunities. It is after all his life that we are considering here, and my client is not yet dead, and certainly not a horse.’

  The judge glared at Pa and I thought, here we go again, but he appeared to take his own advice about sparing his words, because he merely said, ‘All right, Mr Tan, we will proceed. I have made myself clear, I think. Mr Davies, your next witness.’

  He was a big Indian, a bearded Sikh in khaki with a blue turban and hirsute arms. He said his name was Gurjit Singh and that he was the jaga, the guard, at Essex Estate when the bandits attacked. He said there were six bandits, all Chinese. They rode up to the estate’s office on bicycles, greeted the manager and then pulled guns from their pockets. They tied up the manager and his assistant and shot them. They then climbed back onto their bicycles and rode calmly away.

  ‘Do you see any of those six men in this court today?’ Mr Davies asked him.

  The Indian looked straight over at Toh Kei and pointed at him. ‘Yes, sir … him.’

  ‘You are indicating Liew Ek Ching,’ Mr Davies said. ‘How can you be so certain?’

  ‘Because he stared straight at me and spat on the floor.’

  ‘Did this man fire any of the shots?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was he carrying a gun?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If he didn’t use his gun, what did he do?’

  ‘He was the leader. He gave the orders.’

  ‘Did he give the orders to shoot the men?’

  ‘No. They were just shot without anyone saying anything.’

  ‘Then what orders did he give?’

  ‘I don’t know. They were in Chinese.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘He said in English that they would kill all Europeans in Malaya.’

  ‘To whom did he say that?’

  ‘To all of us in the office.’

  ‘Was there a safe in the office?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was there money in that safe on the morning in question?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How much money?’

  ‘I don’t know. Only the manager knew.’

  ‘I see. Did these men, these men led by Liew Ek Ching, take any of that money?�
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  ‘No.’

  ‘Could they have taken it? By that I mean, was the safe open?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But they showed no interest in it?’

  ‘No. They killed and they left.’

  Through all this the judge was making notes on his sheet of paper, and again when my father stood up he put his pen down, leaned back in his big chair and folded his arms.

  ‘You say they greeted the manager,’ Pa began. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘Tabek, tuan.’

  ‘Did my client say that?’

  ‘I don’t know who said it. I was in the next room.’

  ‘When did you come into the manager’s office?’

  ‘They forced me into it, with guns, just after they came.’

  ‘Is that when you say my client stared at you and spat on the floor?’

  ‘No. That was when they left.’

  ‘You say they pulled guns from their pockets, so we can assume they were handguns, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What type of handgun do you say my client was holding?’

  ‘I didn’t notice the type.’

  ‘Did not notice whether it was a revolver or an automatic pistol?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did not notice the calibre?’

  ‘No. It was very … busy. It was very dangerous.’

  ‘Dangerous indeed, and filled with anonymous guns. So you, a weapons-trained watchman … you are weapons-trained, are you not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were forced from one room to another at the point of a gun and you did not notice what that gun was. What language did they use?’

  ‘Chinese … and English once.’

  ‘Which Chinese dialect?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t understand Chinese.’

  ‘You don’t understand Chinese and yet you know that my client was giving orders. How could you tell that?’

  ‘It was the way he said it. He was the boss.’

  ‘I see. So no one spoke in Malay?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But didn’t you just tell us that they greeted the manager in Malay? Didn’t you say they said tabek tuan? Doesn’t that mean greetings, sir?’

  ‘Yes. They said that in Malay. I forgot.’

  ‘So you are not sure about the weapons, not sure about what was said and you were actually in the next room. Mr Singh, are you a toddy drinker?’

  ‘My lord,’ said Mr Davies, but Pa held up a hand before he said any more.

  ‘I withdraw that question, my lord. Mr Singh, it is now three years since the incident. How can you be so sure that my client was there?’

  He turned to the judge to answer, as though he was looking for help. ‘I saw him there.’

  ‘How long have you been in Malaya, Mr Singh?’

  ‘Four years.’

  ‘And you came here from India?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Had you lived or worked in a Chinese community before coming here? Hong Kong perhaps?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So at the time of this incident you had been in Malaya for just one year?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you had just one year’s experience of living among Chinese?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me, Mr Singh, if I removed my wig could you tell the difference between me and my client over there?’

  Mr Davies jumped up. ‘My lord, that would hardly be a practical or a scientifically valid demonstration of the witness’ ability to reliably inform the court what he saw.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Davies,’ the judge said. ‘I agree. Mr Tan, you have made your point. I do not think you need to resort to that experiment, and I advise you not to disrespect my court by removing your wig.’

  ‘As your lordship pleases,’ Pa said, and sat down. For the first time I saw the judge pick up his pen and write something on Pa’s side of his paper.

  Mr Davies’ last witness was a young Chinese lady with short hair and one arm in a sling. When she stepped up to the witness stand she turned around, and that was when I recognised her. It was a face I could not forget, a face I had seen at a time when I was so aware of what was going on around me that it was burned into my brain. When the bandits attacked the village outside Sungai Siput and we crouched behind the counter in a barber shop, I was more frightened than I had ever been in my life … until I saw this face. I had seen it across the road and up on a balcony, ducking behind a wall. It smiled at me then, a smile so serene and confident that my fear had simply melted away.

  She was not smiling now and her face was pinched with grim purpose, her forehead creased, her mouth stiff, her eyes cold. Mr Davies asked her name.

  ‘Chee Lien Na,’ she said.

  ‘Are you also known as Na Na?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were you until recently a member of the Communist Party of Malaya?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were you until recently a member of the Communist Party of Malaya’s Fifth Regiment in Perak?’

  ‘We say Malayan Races Liberation Army Fifth Regiment.’

  ‘What rank did you hold?’

  ‘Soldier, also courier some time.’

  ‘Before you joined this Malayan Races Liberation Army, before you were a soldier and a courier, what were you?’

  ‘Dulang washer.’

  ‘By that you mean you looked for tin ore in streams.’

  ‘Yes. Look for tin.’

  ‘Now, in this Fifth Regiment of yours, what were the numbers? How many companies, platoons and soldiers?’

  ‘Different number, different time.’

  ‘Very well. In April this year, what were the numbers at that time?’

  ‘Five company, twelve platoon, six hundred comrade.’

  ‘What were the numbers of the comrades in all of Malaya?’

  ‘I only know my regiment.’

  ‘Who would know that then?’

  ‘Only comrade on Central Military Committee.’

  ‘Who was on that committee?’

  ‘I only know Commander Fifth Regiment.’

  ‘Very well, who was the Commander Fifth Regiment?’

  She lifted her good arm and I could see that it was covered with many small and pale scars. She pointed it at Toh Kei, but without so much as a glance in his direction.

  ‘That one.’

  ‘You have indicated Liew Ek Ching. So you say he was on the Central Military Committee?’

  ‘Yes. Secretary.’

  ‘That is a high office, is it not?’

  Na Na just shrugged.

  ‘Does that mean it is not a high office?’ the judge asked.

  Na Na looked at him. ‘I not on Central Military Committee. How to know?’

  ‘I think I can assure your lordship that it is indeed a high office in the communist scheme of things,’ Mr Davies said. ‘Joseph Stalin himself holds a similar office in the Soviet Union.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Davies,’ the judge said, making a note. ‘It is good to see members of the Bar keeping up with the affairs of the world.’

  Mr Davies nodded and turned again to Na Na. ‘Where were the Fifth Regiment headquarters?’

  ‘Move many time. Always on mountain near Ipoh.’

  ‘This was a hidden camp?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In the wild forest with a flag pole to keep the red flag flying?’

  ‘Cannot fly all de time. Plane can see.’

  ‘Of course. And did you carry weapons in this wild camp?’

  ‘Always carry weapon. Must carry weapon all de time.’

  ‘Did Liew Ek Ching always carry a weapon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What type of weapon?’

  ‘Revolver. Sometime hand grenade also. Sometime tommy gun.’

  ‘Did Liew Ek Ching take part in raids on tin mines or rubber estates or police patrols?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Many times?’

  ‘Yes.�
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  ‘Did Liew Ek Ching take part in the raid on Essex Estate on the sixteenth of June 1948?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was he the leader of that raid?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who planned that raid?’

  ‘Him. He plan.’

  ‘Did he carry a weapon when he went on that raid?’

  ‘Yes. I say before. Must carry weapon all de time.’

  ‘What weapon at this time, on that raid on the Essex Estate?’

  ‘Revolver.’

  Mr Davies looked at my father with one eyebrow arched, and then back to his witness. ‘What type of revolver?’

  ‘British revolver.’

  ‘What make of British revolver?’

  ‘Webley. All are Webley.’

  ‘What was the calibre of Liew Ek Ching’s Webley revolver?’

  ‘Four five five.’

  Mr Davies turned to the bench. ‘That would be a Webley point 455 calibre service revolver, my lord. Otherwise known as a Webley break-top or self-extracting revolver.’

  The judge made a full note of it. ‘Thank you, Mr Davies.’

  ‘Now, Miss Chee, do you know what the plan was for that raid on which Mr Liew took his Webley 455 calibre revolver? Was it robbery?’

  ‘No. Kill European.’

  ‘Liew Ek Ching told you that?’

  ‘Yes. He say we fight to kill all European in Malaya or make dem go back own country.’

  ‘So, Miss Chee, the purpose of the raid was not robbery, so Liew Ek Ching and his accomplices were not bandits. Their objective was to murder Europeans, so they were murderers. Is that correct?’

  ‘You call us bandit because you afraid make China lose face. You call us communist soldier and China lose face. But we are communist soldier, liberation army.’

  ‘Miss Chee, I ask you again – were Liew Ek Ching and his accomplices murderers?’

  For the first time she looked at Toh Kei, who looked back at her. I could see both their faces and I was on the other side of the room. I wondered if anyone else could see what I saw then. I wondered if anyone else could see that they connected for a moment, that just for an instant she was the woman who had inspired me with confidence in Kampong Kerdas.