by Eric Ambler
They were sitting at one end of the table reading through a document and comparing it with what was evidently the draft from which it had been typed. To my surprise, Roda waved me to a chair. I sat down as far away from them as possible and waited. When they had finished, Roda looked at Aroff inquiringly. Aroff nodded, but with the air of a man agreeing to something against his better judgment. Roda pursed his lips and turned to me.
“Mr. Fraser, we have sent for you because we believe that you may be willing to assist us.”
“Oh yes?”
“The General and I were much impressed by your co-operation in the matter of the generator. Under circumstances of the greatest difficulty, without proper assistance or equipment, you employed your skill and knowledge to such good effect that the enemy’s attempts to silence Radio Sunda were totally defeated.” He smiled.
This was fantastic. For one wild moment I thought that he was about to pin a decoration on me: the Order of Boeng Sanusi (2nd Class) perhaps. I smiled back guardedly. Aroff, I noticed, was absently studying his fingernails, as if none of what was being said were any business of his.
“That being so,” Roda continued amiably, “we do not think it unreasonable to assume that, as a British friend of Sunda, you are sympathetic to the policy and aspirations of the National Freedom Party and its leader.”
I could have thought of several brief replies to that, but by now I was curious to know what he wanted.
I shook my head doubtfully. “As a foreigner, of course, it would be a gross impertinence for me to express an opinion about a political matter.”
“Nevertheless, Mr. Fraser, we feel that you are not unsympathetic to the principles for which we stand. It is for that reason that we propose to take you into our confidence.”
“I see.” I did not see, but he evidently expected me to say something.
“Good. As you know, the Nasjah forces have counter-attacked. At this moment a battle is being fought in the streets of our city. Now, I must tell you, Mr. Fraser, that but for the activities of certain enemy agents and the unconstitutional action of the Nasjah gang in arresting many of our supporters on false charges, this battle would not be going on. We should be in complete control. As it is, Sunda is faced not merely by civil war, but also by the devastation of large areas of our capital. Mr. Fraser, we are patriots, not savages. Sunda cannot tolerate civil war. Selampang cannot be permitted to suffer needlessly. General Sanusi has, therefore, taken the initiative in proposing to General Ishak, as between equals, an armistice, during which negotiations can take place for the evacuation of all armed forces from the city and the setting up of a joint commission of conciliation under neutral supervision.”
It was not a bad bluff. If I had not talked to Suparto I might have swallowed it for a while. I glanced at Aroff. He had a knife out and was cleaning his fingernails now. I looked back at Roda.
“I wish you every success, Colonel. But I don’t see how I can help you.”
“I will explain, Mr. Fraser. We have been in telephone communication with General Ishak’s headquarters and certain conditions have been agreed for a preliminary meeting to discuss the terms of the cease-fire. That meeting will take place, under flags of truce, in front of the police barracks at four o’clock. That is in half an hour.” He paused and stirred uncomfortably.
“Yes, Colonel?”
“We asked that independent foreign observers should be present, so that any promises made or undertakings given should be properly witnessed. Consular or diplomatic representatives would have been suitable, but this was not agreed. The enemy refuse to permit accredited representatives of foreign powers to participate in what they say is a domestic political matter. They pretend that it would be contrary to protocol and an encroachment on our national sovereignty. In fact, of course, they are afraid to lose face. It has been agreed, however, that two foreign observers not of diplomatic status may attend, one for each side, providing that neither is a newspaper representative and neither of Dutch nationality. We would like you to attend for us, Mr. Fraser.”
“Me? Why me? Surely there is someone more suitable in the area you control, some business man who fulfils the agreed conditions.”
“There may be, Mr. Fraser, but we do not know where to find him at this moment. There is not much time.”
“Frankly, I don’t see why you need anyone at all.” This was pure malice. I did see. Having nothing whatsoever to offer in exchange for the terms he was asking, and merely hoping to pull off a bluff, he was doing his best to make the negotiations seem formal and portentous. If the other side were the slightest bit unsure of themselves, it was just possible, too, that the presence of neutral observers might influence their judgment.
“The procedure has been agreed,” he said coldly. He was tired of persuasion, and the fact that he would sooner be cutting my throat than asking for my co-operation was beginning to show in his eyes.
“Very well. What do I do?”
“Colonel Aroff will be our delegate. You will accompany him.”
“What are my duties?”
“Firstly, to take note of what is said.” He hesitated. “Should you feel, of course, that the other side are not viewing the situation correctly, you would be entitled to consult with their observer, and perhaps to protest.” His eyes held mine. “I am sure you realise, Mr. Fraser, that it is in everyone’s interest that an acceptable agreement is reached.”
There was sufficient emphasis on the word “everyone.” I understood now.
“May I know what terms you would accept?”
“Colonel Aroff has his instructions. He will explain them to you on the way. You should be leaving now.”
Colonel Aroff put his knife away, stuffed the document they had been studying into his pocket and stood up. Then, with a nod to me he walked out of the room. He did not even look at Roda.
The staff captain was waiting in the corridor and, as I followed Aroff out, he joined the procession. I noticed that he was carrying something that looked like a long cardboard tube in his hand. We followed Aroff down the stairs to the sandbagged entrance. There was a guard there who demanded passes before we were allowed to leave the building; Suparto having got away, the stable door was now bolted. The staff captain had the passes and we went through.
Outside in the road there was a jeep waiting which I recognised as the one from Tangga that Suparto had used. There was a soldier sitting in the driving seat. Aroff stopped and looked at the tube the staff captain was holding.
“Is that the flag of truce?”
“Yes, Colonel tuan.”
“It must not be shown here. Can you drive?”
“No, Colonel tuan.”
Aroff looked non-plussed. “Neither can I.”
“I’ll drive if you like, Colonel.”
For the first time he looked at me directly. After a moment’s thought, he nodded. “Good.” He told the staff captain to go and dismiss the driver. “When men see a flag of truce,” he added to me, “they begin to think of safety. After that it is hard to make them fight. The driver would have come back here and told them.”
As we walked towards the jeep, a shell from the destroyer burst among the trees across the square and sent a lot of torn-off branches spurting up into the air. Another bombardment had begun. I remembered that I had not tried to send a message to Rosalie; but it was too late to do anything about that now. Another shell landed near one of the gun positions. As my ears returned to normal, I could hear a wounded man screaming.
“A waste of ammunition,” Aroff remarked dourly. “Nearly two hundred rounds and what have they done with them? Six men killed and twenty wounded. It is absurd.”
Absurd or not, they had also made a mess of some of the buildings in and around the square. One of the streets I tried to drive along was completely blocked by fallen rubble, and we had to make a detour. It was not easy. The area now being defended by Sanusi’s troops was not much more than a quarter of a mile across in some places, and twice w
e had to reverse out of streets which had come under enemy fire. At several points, buses and trucks had been turned on to their sides and teams of civilians, women as well as men, were being forced by squads of troops to drag the vehicles broadside on to form tank obstacles. I saw no other civilians on the streets and the shops were all shuttered. Once, I caught a glimpse of a child’s face at a window, but I was too busy driving to look about me much.
The police barracks were opposite the telephone exchange in a long, straight road that began somewhere in the Chinese section and ended at the airport. About two hundred yards short of the barracks, we came to a canal crossing with a cinema on one corner and a barricade of overturned cars across the roadway. There was a two-pounder behind one of the cars, and in the deep storm drains on either side of the road a couple of machine-gunners. As I pulled up at the barricade, an officer who looked like a recently promoted N.C.O. moved out of a doorway and hurried over.
Aroff returned the man’s salute casually.
“Have you been notified of the arrangements, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Colonel tuan.”
Aroff looked up at the bullet-scarred walls of the godown that stretched along one side of the road.
“You were under fire here until when?”
“Until ten minutes ago, Colonel tuan.” He pointed with pride to the empty cases lying on the ground behind the two-pounder. “And they did not have it all their own way. The armoured car they sent did not like our gun.”
“Did you destroy the armoured car?”
“Ah no, tuan.” He smiled tolerantly, as if at a foolish question. “But they did not return for more. They have brought up a tank now.”
“Where are the rest of your men?”
“On the roof of the godown, tuan.”
Aroff looked at his watch. “We have five minutes, Mr. Fraser. We must discuss the situation.”
He climbed out of the jeep, and I followed him as he walked over to the barricade. The staff captain seemed about to follow, then he thought better of it and began to talk to the lieutenant.
Aroff peered through the gap between two of the overturned cars which the gunners were using as an embrasure, and motioned to me to do the same. The crew squatting in the shade of one of the trucks looked up at us drowsily.
Except for a dead dog lying just beyond the canal, the road between the barricade and the police barracks was empty. The only visible sign of life in the ramshackle apartment houses which flanked it was a line of washing strung between two of the windows; but the sound of gunfire was comparatively distant now, and I could hear a man coughing in one of the houses. Outside the police barracks, in the centre of the road, and with its gun pointing directly at us, stood a medium tank.
Aroff was watching me as I straightened up.
“Are you a soldier, Mr. Fraser?”
“I was in the British army.”
“An officer?”
“Yes, in the Engineers. Why?”
He drew me away and we walked back along the road for a few yards. When we were out of earshot of the gunners, he stopped.
“Should that tank you see there decide to move along this road, Mr. Fraser, what do you think will happen?”
“How do you mean?”
“Do you see anything here to stop it?”
“Not a thing. The two-pounder’s shot will bounce off it. It’ll just push this road block out of the way and drive on. Unless, that is, you’ve got an anti-tank mine under that crossing.”
“We have no mines.”
“And no other anti-tank weapons?”
“Here, none.”
“Then there’s nothing to stop it.”
“Exactly.” He produced the document from his pocket, and held it out to me. “Do you wish to read this?”
“I think Colonel Roda made its contents clear.”
“Then we understand one another. All I have to offer them, in fact, is a small saving of effort. The rest is pretence, and, of course, they will know that.”
“What do you want me to do, Colonel?”
He shrugged. “Is it of interest to you what happens to us?”
“If there is any prospect of a cease-fire, naturally I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“Then I will make only one request to you, Mr. Fraser.”
“Yes?”
“General Ishak is a military man. If you should have to refer to Roda, please do not call him Colonel Roda. In General Ishak’s army he was a captain.”
“And General Sanusi?”
“Colonel Sanusi would be more discreet.”
“What about you, Colonel?”
He smiled slightly. “I received no promotion. But I do not think that General Ishak will regard that as a point in my favour. We shall, of course, speak Malay.”
He looked at his watch again, then turned and walked towards the jeep.
The staff captain came forward and, when Aroff nodded, he took the white flag of truce out of its cardboard wrapping and fixed it on to the windscreen of the jeep.
I saw the gunners staring at it incredulously. Then, the lieutenant shouted an order and they scrambled to their feet. Another order, and they rolled the gun back clear of the barricade. The machine-gunners helped them to swing one of the cars aside a foot or two, so that there was space for the jeep to go through.
Aroff took no notice of these preparations. He had got into the jeep and was sitting there woodenly under the flag. I went and sat beside him in the driving seat while the staff captain clambered into the back. We sat there for a moment or two, then Aroff looked at his watch again and nodded to me.
I drove through the gap in the barricade on to the road ahead.
“Slowly, Mr. Fraser,” Aroff said; “and keep to the centre.”
I needed no telling. The moment we were clear of the barricade I felt horribly exposed; I was almost sure that the tank was going to open fire on us. The white flag drooping on its stick above us seemed a totally inadequate protection. It only wanted one trigger-happy idiot to start, I thought, and every gun in Selampang would be firing at us. I had no hat and was already far too warm. As I drove, sweat began to trickle into my eyes.
The first hundred yards was the worst. After that, although I could see the muzzle of the tank’s gun dropping gradually as the gunner kept us in his sights, I knew that unless we suddenly drove straight at him brandishing anti-tank grenades, he was not going to fire. Also I could see a group of officers standing in the shade by the gate of the police barracks, waiting.
When we were within ten yards of the tank, a lieutenant in the Government uniform stepped out from behind it and held up his hand. I stopped with a jerk that made the staff captain lurch against the back of my seat.
Aroff got out stiffly and stood beside the jeep. When the staff captain and I had joined him, the lieutenant advanced and stopped in front of us.
“Follow me, please,” he said curtly.
He turned then, and we followed him past the tank and over to the gateway. The group of officers was no longer there, only two sentries who stared at us curiously. The lieutenant led the way through into the courtyard of the barracks and the two sentries closed in behind us.
There was a big sago palm in the centre, and a table and chair had been placed in the shade of it. General Ishak sat at the table. Standing behind him were four officers and a civilian. I had never seen Ishak before. He was a thin, bitter-looking man with angry eyes and one of those wispy Sundanese moustaches that look as if they have just been stuck on with spirit gum. More interesting to me at that moment, however, was the fact that just behind him, still haggard but crisp and clean in his proper uniform, stood Major Suparto. As we came up to the table, I saw his eyes flicker towards me, but he gave no sign of recognition.
Aroff stopped and saluted the General.
Ishak did not return the salute. For a moment the two men stared at one another in silence. I was standing a little behind Aroff and I could see the muscles of his jaw twitching
. Ishak looked at me.
“Who is this?” I recognised the voice. It was light and ugly, and sounded as if he were trying to speak and swallow at the same time. I had heard it once before that week.
“Mr. Fraser, an engineer from the Tangga Valley project, General. He is here by agreement as an observer.”
“Very well.” He glanced at the civilian who stood next to Suparto. “This is Mr. Petersen of the Malayan Rubber Agency.”
“Dutch?” Aroff demanded sharply.
“Danish,” said Mr. Petersen. He was a stout, fleshy-faced man in the late fifties, wearing a suit as well as a tie and looking as if he might at any moment collapse from the heat. I nodded to him and he smiled nervously.
Ishak yawned. “Although why foreign observers should be necessary to witness a simple police operation is not easy to understand,” he said, and looked up at Aroff. “Well, this meeting is at Sanusi’s request. He can only wish to surrender. It remains for me to inform you about the time and place. You agree?”
“No, General. All I am instructed to discuss are the terms of an armistice.”
“What armistice? What terms?”
Aroff fumbled in his pocket and drew out the document. “I have the proposals here.”
Ishak took the document, glanced through it impassively and then passed it to a colonel, presumably his chief of staff, who was standing behind him. Suparto read it over the colonel’s shoulder. When they had finished, the colonel handed it back to Ishak. The latter glanced through it again and then looked at Aroff.
“Before you became a traitor, Aroff,” he said, “you used to be an intelligent man.” He tore the document in half and dropped the pieces on the table. “What has happened to you?”
“I am here to discuss terms, General.” Aroff’s voice was very carefully controlled.
Ishak flicked the torn paper away from him. “That discussion is ended. If you do not wish to make any personal explanation, then we will waste no more time. You may go.”
