‘They’re Captain McManus’s Gurkhas,’ Denis said from the bed. ‘The silly ass thinks we need a guard.’
‘Guarding us against the Communists, or guarding us as prisoners?’
‘A little bit of both, I think,’ Denis said quietly.
‘I hate it, Denis,’ I said passionately. ‘I hate it all. Guns and soldiers, killing and betrayal. I want us to get away. Can we leave Malaya?’
‘We’ll leave as soon as we can get a decent ship to England. There is no reason for staying any longer. We’ve done what we were asked to do.’
I climbed back under the blankets and we lay in each other’s arms. It was strange, but despite everything I felt suddenly safe and warm. I thought about it for a moment, and realised that it was because I trusted Denis again. The awful days when I’d doubted him, even thought of him as a traitor, were over forever. I had experienced my epiphany on the road below Starlight, and I would never doubt him again. I raised myself on my elbow and turned to face him.
‘I’m glad that you are true blue,’ I said simply. ‘I hated doubting you.’
‘What made you change your mind?’
‘I saw it in your eyes. When I was so angry with you because of poor Catherine. I know you hate people seeing through you, but I saw through you then. I saw the real Denis underneath all that urbanity of yours.’
We lay together in companionable silence, and then Denis spoke again. ‘I was awfully shocked by Catherine’s death. I had particularly asked Chin Peng to take care of her, and I know he would have tried. So someone – some group in the MCP – is defying Chin Peng. Probably the Hakka people. Catherine was against killing women and children, as Chin Peng is, but the Hakkas think that’s a sign of weakness. Even treachery. They’ve been despised for so long, you see – by their fellow Chinese as much as anyone. So this is their time for revenge. Their chance to redress the balance.’
I sensed that Denis wanted to talk. ‘Just how did you get so involved?’ I asked. ‘I assume you were undercover in some way, but how and why?’
He reached for a packet of cigarettes and lit a couple, placing one between my lips before he answered. ‘I can tell you exactly how I was involved. Emphasis on was, because it’s past tense now. What happened yesterday broke the nexus. I’m free, darling – and you’ve got no idea how relieved I feel.’
He took a long draw on his cigarette. ‘I have to go all the way back to 1946. When the Communists came out of the jungle after the war they were regarded as heroes. They had the world – or at least Malaya – in the palm of their hand. If there had been elections then they would have romped in. We didn’t quite know what to do. The Communists had been our allies in the war but it went against the grain to see a British colony falling so easily into their hands. So we tried to seduce them with accolades, and medals, and jobs in the civil service, and we offered them a share in running Malaya if they would join the democratic club. But they wouldn’t have a bar of it. With them it had to be all or nothing. And at one stage it looked very much as though they might get their way. They had support from most of the Chinese and quite a few Malays and Indians.
‘So we had to change tack. Someone came up with the bright idea that if we got the blighters to go back into the jungle and declare war on the British, we could isolate them from the ordinary people of Malaya. Isolation would mean eventual defeat. Just look at what’s happening in Indo-China. In the south, the Communists who took to the jungle are facing defeat. In the north it’s a different story. Ho Chi Minh insisted on staying in the cities and fighting it out – and they are still very much in with a chance of winning. And creating a Communist state.’
‘Who supported the plan?’ I asked.
‘Stewart Menzies was all for it, and we began trying to get the MCP to go back into the jungle as early as 1946. But they were cautious. They knew that if they simply ran off into the bush they’d turn themselves into desperadoes – as their comrades have done in southern Vietnam. They wanted lines of communication to the outside world, and guarantees of support from China and Russia. China refused to give them that support. They could see through the plan – they’re a pretty hard-headed lot in Peking. But Russia was tempted. They probably had few illusions the Communists could win a guerrilla war in Malaya, but they could see it as a way to stir up trouble for the West.’
Denis took another long draw on his cigarette. ‘So we used the Russians. I put a proposal to Sokolov. I’d give the Communists secure lines of communications – through the old stay-behind infrastructure we’d put in place for Force 136 – if Russia came out and backed a Communist insurrection.’
‘And Sokolov believed you?’ I asked.
‘Don’t forget I had impeccable credentials. I’d betrayed those secret cables to them.’
A lot was falling into place. Sokolov’s call on me at Casuarinas. The award of an Order of Lenin. Catherine’s comments to me in the coffee shop in Singapore. Wu Sing’s admiration, and his clumsy salute. ‘Couldn’t you have given me just the slightest idea what you were doing?’ I asked in a small voice. ‘I was awfully puzzled at times, and dreadfully worried.’
‘I couldn’t let you have even the slightest idea,’ Denis said. ‘It would have put your life at risk, and the whole plan into jeopardy. What you don’t know you can’t betray, even inadvertently. Don’t think that it didn’t cause me the greatest pain. I truly hated deceiving you.’
A thought popped into my head. ‘Did you have to betray Lieutenant Skripkin?’
Denis stubbed out his cigarette and turned to look me in the eye. ‘I don’t know if I betrayed Skripkin or not. He came to us in Singapore with talk of defection. He could have been a Russian plant, sent in to test me out. They knew I’d handle the matter because I saw all the naval signals going in to SIFE. If I didn’t tell them what Skripkin was up to they’d know I was a double agent, and it had all the earmarks of a Russian double play. Particularly when Skripkin insisted on going back to Moscow to pick up his wife and children. We could have done that for him. So the decision was made that I’d tell my handler all about Skripkin.’
I breathed a long sigh of relief. ‘I’m no expert,’ I said. ‘But it does seem to me strange that Skripkin went back to Moscow after hobnobbing with British Intelligence. It’s against human nature to go back into the lion’s den after tweaking his tail.’
Denis sighed.
‘So why were you so upset about the man?’ I pursued. ‘Why are you still upset about him?’
‘Because there is always a chance that he was genuine. If he was, I killed him as surely as if I’d pulled the trigger.’
We lay there listening to the world waking up outside. Cars starting down at the hotel. Some children up early, rampaging in the hotel playground. ‘And what about Lau Yew?’ I asked. ‘How did he fit in?’
‘Lau admired General Giap and Ho Chi Minh,’ Denis said. ‘He thought Chin Peng was making a dreadful mistake going into the jungle. He fought him in Central, and in the Politburo, and in the party at large. He was pretty persuasive, too. After all, he was their most experienced fighter. But Chin Peng won out – principally, I think, because the rank and file thought he had Russian support. Once in the jungle tensions between the two men threatened to get out of control. Lau was certainly plotting against Chin Peng, but Chin Peng struck first.’
I shivered. ‘It’s all so . . . cold-blooded, isn’t it? Whose side is Chin Peng on, anyway? You once said you weren’t sure.’
‘He’s on the Chinese side,’ Denis said. ‘But that’s all anyone can be sure of.’
There was a knock at the door and Denis looked at his watch. It was just after seven. ‘Bit early for a social call,’ he commented. ‘I suspect this might be the powers that be, coming to tell us what they’ve decided to do with us.’
I heard Denis talking at the front door, and then he came back into our bedroom. ‘It was Captain McManus,’ he said shortly. ‘He’s received orders to keep an eye on us until I see John Morton at ten o
’clock. He’ll run the children down to school but we’re effectively bottled up here until further notice.’
‘Why are you seeing John Morton?’ I asked. Morton was head of SIFE and the news struck a sinister note.
‘Punishment parade,’ Denis said lightly. He was smiling but I could see the tension around his eyes.
‘Oh, Denis.’ I flung my arms around him, struggling with the tears that pricked behind my eyelids. ‘You’ve risked your life for these people, and now they are treating you like a criminal. Surely they know the truth? That all the time you were acting under Stewart Menzies’ orders?’
‘It’s not quite that simple,’ Denis said. ‘SIFE have no idea what we were doing – it was far too sensitive for them to be kept in the loop. But when I talk to Morton, I won’t pull any punches.’
They took the children to school in a jeep full of armed Gurkhas, with more Gurkhas following in another vehicle. It was an impressive motorcade, and the children looked as proud as Punch as they sat up straight in their seats as I’d told them to. I saw several of the hotel guests looking on from the terrace in mild amazement. I think they imagined we were VIPs of some sort.
Denis had a couple of hours to wait before his meeting with John Morton, which we spent unpacking the luggage we’d brought down from Starlight so hurriedly the night before. It gave me something to do: folding clothes and putting them away, sorting out toys, and repacking stuff we wouldn’t need. As I was hanging up Denis’s suits a thought struck me. ‘Denis,’ I said urgently. ‘What if they just take you away and I simply don’t see you again? That sort of thing does happen, doesn’t it? They might decide to bump you off, just so that the Government isn’t blamed for starting this war.’
Denis took my concern seriously, and sat me down opposite him in our tiny lounge. ‘I really don’t think that will happen,’ he said. ‘Menzies is still in charge and he won’t let it happen. But things could be a bit sticky until Stewart has his say, so you’d better prepare to be brave. Your job is to look after the children until we’re together again.’
I didn’t like hearing that, but I braced myself and tried to be positive. ‘If they don’t play fair with you I’ll get stuck into them myself,’ I said. ‘I’ll proclaim the truth from the rooftops. Can you give me something to prove that you were working for Menzies? A copy of your orders or something like that? Just as insurance.’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ Denis said. ‘An operation of this sort is never put down on paper. I’m afraid there are no official orders.’
He must have seen the bitter disappointment in my eyes because he suddenly reached out and cupped my chin in his hand. ‘I can tell you the name of the operation, though,’ he said. ‘It was Operation Maugham. As in Somerset Maugham.’
I forced myself to laugh. ‘That was a bit obvious, isn’t it? You’re up here setting up Somerset College . . . weren’t you worried someone might make the connection?’
‘Obviously I didn’t think so, because I chose the name myself. It rather appealed to me. And you know, sometimes things that seem obvious later on aren’t at all obvious at the time.’ He suddenly chuckled. ‘And I do rather like cocking a snoot, you know: the one-time pad that Menzies and I used to keep in contact was The Moon and Sixpence by Somerset Maugham. I think that was a rather nice touch, don’t you?’
I seized on this little gem of information, something I could use if the worst came to the worst and I had to fight for Denis. ‘What is a one-time pad?’ I asked, though I had a rough idea.
‘It’s the one cipher in the world that nobody can ever crack. You choose a book, and select the parts of the book that represent the one-time pad for any given day. An example would be that every page of the book represents the equivalent day of the year. The first of January would be page one, and so on. Then you simply use the letters on that page as your cipher letters.’
I tried to memorise what he had said and kissed him on the nose. I felt better that I had something. Not a lot, but something.
Denis was driven away for his meeting just before ten, looking crisp and relaxed in flannels and a blue blazer. I wanted desperately to hang on to him, keep him with me by throwing my arms around his neck and never letting go, but of course he would have hated that. So I blew him a casual kiss as he climbed into the jeep, and sauntered back into Honeymoon Cottage without a backward glance.
The meeting lasted most of the day, and it was by all accounts extraordinary. It began with fire and lightning and with portents in the sky, and it ended in farce. There was an official record made – there had to be – and I have seen that record: it was searched for and found by one of our children forty years later. But the typed pages bear no resemblance to reality: the meeting is transmogrified into ‘An Inquiry into Communist Insurgency Activities in the Cameron Highlands area of Malaya, October 1948’, and it deals only with the abortive raids on Starlight and Moonlight. But Denis told me what really happened, as we sat out in the sunshine on our small patio afterwards, the sounds of people playing tennis in the distance.
John Morton had expected great things from the meeting, and had been flown in from KL that morning in one of the new RAF helicopters. He expected to be able to announce a great coup, the biggest since the Emergency had begun: the arrest and charging of a major British traitor, and he’d gone to a lot of trouble to set the scene. The meeting was held in the Commandant’s office at the Tannah Rata Barracks, an impressive room with two Union Jacks behind the massive teak desk and a picture of King George VI on the wall between them.
Denis was escorted in almost like a prisoner, to see Morton in pride of place, flanked by two other SIFE officers. Gurkha guards could be seen outside the windows, their Sten guns across their chests. Morton rose and extended his hand. ‘Damned sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances, Denis,’ he said in his most forthright, manly manner.
‘Not half as sorry as I am,’ Denis said, ignoring the hand and taking the seat that had been placed in front of the desk. ‘I hope for your sake that you have good reason for all this nonsense of yours, John. Norma and I are virtually under house arrest.’
Morton ignored the comment. ‘I’ve brought Bob Farmer and Alan Norton up with me from KL,’ he said, gesturing to the men seated on either side of him. ‘Bob is MI5, Alan is MI6.’
‘Am I supposed to be flattered by the attention?’ Denis asked. He didn’t even look at the two men.
Morton cleared his throat. ‘Well, perhaps I should get straight to the point . . .’
‘I wish you would,’ Denis cut in. ‘Norma and I have things to do, and we can’t do them bailed up in Honeymoon Cottage like a couple of common criminals.’
Denis’s tone was beginning to irritate Morton, and a red flush began to mount his neck. ‘The point is that Malcolm Bryant has put up a bill against you, Denis. His conclusion is that you are working for the KGB.’ He paused, then tapped a thick manila folder in front of him. ‘I have to say that it is the most serious bill I have seen against a fellow officer in my twenty years with MI5. It suggests that you are Moscow’s contact with the Communist insurgents in Malaya.’
Denis stared coldly at John Morton. ‘You are accusing me of high treason.’
Morton inclined his head. ‘An accusation has been made. It is supported by argument and by evidence. It requires some answers. That is why I have asked you here today – to give you a chance to provide those answers. If you cannot give us those answers, I regret that we will have no option but to put the matter into the hands of the Director of Public Prosecutions.’ He paused, cleared his throat again, and looked Denis steadily in the eye. ‘Are you working for the Russians?’
Denis stared back. ‘Do you think I’m stark, staring mad?’ he asked softly. ‘Do you seriously expect me to answer a charge like that without the faintest idea what the case is against me? I want to know everything you have against me.’
For nearly two hours, without a break, they read out the charges that Malcolm had been
carefully compiling over the past twelve months. They included clandestine meetings with the Russian ‘legal’ in Singapore, the channelling of funds and equipment to the MCP, the establishment of Elesmere-Elliott & Co. as a front for the MCP, the provision of Moonlight (‘Number One Bungalow’) to the MCP as a safe house, and (based on the Selangor Papers) actual participation in the deliberations of the Communist Politburo. The last charge was very recent indeed: a letter found on Xiao Lau Hu’s body, addressed to Denis, made it crystal clear that he was in regular contact with Chin Peng. They were damning charges and Morton was almost drooling. In relation to each, Denis had shaken his head: ‘I refuse to answer on the grounds that my answer may incriminate me.’
The reading of the charges took until well after midday, when the heat in the room forced them to turn on the overhead fans. Outside, there was the sound of soldiers drilling on the parade ground, a raucous, angry sound punctuated by the crash of boots on macadam.
‘You leave us with no choice, Denis,’ Morton said, screwing the cap back on his fountain pen. ‘There is ample material here on which a prosecution could properly be brought. You have not exercised your right to challenge a single word of it. Is there any reason why I should not immediately order you into custody?’
Denis rose to his feet and wandered over to the polished expanse of Morton’s desk. He stood there for a moment, leaning over the desk with the fingers of both hands splayed on its polished surface. Then he looked at the three men sitting there in turn. ‘I have, over the past years and months, been carrying out the specific instructions of the Director-General of the Secret Intelligence Service,’ he said quietly. ‘Those instructions provide a complete answer to all the allegations made against me today. Before you do anything, I strongly suggest that you seek Stewart Menzies’ confirmation of what I have just told you.’ Then he returned to his chair and casually slumped in it, turning to the window as though the proceedings no longer held any interest.
In the Mouth of the Tiger Page 82
