“No, if that’s all it is,” Bailey sneered at me. “It’s a long way to come to go for a ride in a launch and play a round of golf,” he said.
Cruickshank sat and watched me.
“Gentlemen,” I said, beginning to lose my patience. “I assumed from the moment I was told that I was being arrested to the point when I woke up having been drugged by your thugs, that unbeknown to me I hasten to add, I had actually done something pretty awful. After meeting you, I still believed that you were going tell me that I had committed some heinous crime. But all I can gather from what has happened is that you are basing whatever it is you think I’ve done on some pretty flimsy evidence that I can neither confirm nor dispute because I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re alluding to.” I moved forward on the chair and Bailey moved off the desk. “A fellow Foreign Office employee of yours is, as far as I know, still lying critically ill in hospital after being attacked by one of the most deadly creatures in the South China Sea but you haven’t mentioned her. The incident occurred when she and I went for an innocent couple of hours on a beach to watch the sun go down.” I let my hands flop onto my bare knees. “Will one of you please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?”
Something didn’t make sense.
Abby’s reason for asking me to come to Brunei was unknown to me until earlier today. It certainly had nothing to do with my discovery in Dove Dale and happenings since. Therefore seeing the Schwartz woman again was the biggest surprise and made me rethink why I was in The High Commission. Cruickshank and Bailey were trying to connect my ‘arrest’ with Abby, which, if what Abby had told me were true, was understandable. If elements of the British government – and where better placed than in Brunei itself – were undermining the Sultan and his administration, my association with a senior minister was bound to have their interest. On the other hand, if Abby were wrong, why did they use such drastic methods to talk to me, in reality they only had to ask.
Perhaps there was some truth in what Abby told me.
Then, of course, there was Sophie Mackintosh. Because her ‘accident’ seemed to trigger everything that was now happening, she had to be the link, but that still did not explain why the Schwartz woman was in The High Commission.
“Mr Blythe.” It was Cruickshank’s turn to speak again and his tone had become slightly conciliatory. “Perhaps we have over-reacted,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It appears that maybe things aren’t as we thought they were.” He stood up and joined Bailey at the front of his desk. “We checked your background earlier – while you were sleeping that is – and what you have told us in this brief exchange, seems to support the facts as they have been presented. Yes, what happened to Mrs Mackintosh – and I’m pleased to say she will make a full recovery – did alert us to your presence with her, but from what you have said perhaps it is we who have not fully understood the situation.” He looked at his watch. “Now we must go. I wish you good evening and I apologise for what happened to you.”
Mr Bailey, I was pleased to note, was looking as confused as I felt.
“Are you telling me that that’s it?” I said. “I can go?”
“Yes, Mr Blythe, that is precisely what I am saying. When Mrs Mackintosh is able, we will be talking to her and apprising her of what has happened. If there is a need to talk to you again, we will be in contact.” Cruickshank tried to smile but it looked more like a scowl. He didn’t appear to be in the slightest bit embarrassed by his sudden change of direction. If anything, I was getting the impression that he was actually quite relieved.
I stood up. “Are you really saying that I can walk out of here?”
He nodded while seeming to take no notice of Bailey’s sideways look at him. “Yes, of course, and to add to my personal apology one of my drivers will run you back to your hotel.”
“I’m not sure what you did to me would be legal in our own country let alone in a foreign one. I will be seeking advice and you will more than likely be hearing from me or my solicitor.” I stood up as the door behind me opened.
Neither Cruickshank nor Bailey said anything further. Their expressions were sombre to say the least. I turned and with as much dignity as I could muster, left the room.
My escort wasn’t quick enough closing the door behind me and I heard Cruickshank say rather loudly, “He wanted to know what the fucking hell is going on - how about you telling me first?”
Chapter Nineteen
Back in the Sheraton Utama Hotel I sat on the bed holding a glass that was half-full of whisky. Earlier I ordered a bottle via room service and signed a chitty to confirm its consumption was for medicinal reasons … and it was.
I was physically shaking from the aftershock of what had happened, in many ways it was far worse than anything I had experienced in some of the most deprived countries in the world. Being drugged and abducted from the hospital was bad enough but what had happened in The High Commission seemed like fantasy … it was though I was an actor in some third rate mystery thriller, with the emphasis on third rate. To try to clear my head I took another gulp of whisky and screwed my eyes shut – neither helped. I wondered what I should do next. Not even Belinda could help me on this occasion because there was nothing logical to discuss with her … the explanation I could try to offer her was previously unsubstantiated but now it was farcical.
I downed the rest of the whisky and then reached for the phone. On arrival back at the hotel, I checked with Reception if there were any messages for me: there was one and it introduced a modicum of reality into the surrealism of what had happened.
The short message was from Charles.
He wanted to let me know that Elizabeth had made such good progress that she was at home and I wasn’t to worry. I felt awful because I should have tried again to get in touch with him to ask how she was.
It shouldn’t have been necessary for him to ring me.
After picking up the phone and on an impulse, I decided to ring Abby. It was late and the phone rang half a dozen times before it was picked up and then, unfortunately, by one of the maids. We had an unintelligible conversation and established little other than ‘Master’ and ‘Missy’ were out. I couldn’t understand her English and she didn’t understand my Malay. Finding both Abby and Nazira out at nearly ten o’clock in the evening was unusual. I did hopefully get the maid to understand that I wanted Abby to ring me as soon as it was convenient.
The phone rang again as soon as I put down the receiver. It was the hotel reception informing me I had a visitor; he was in the foyer and he wanted to see me. Feeling a little annoyed, I suggested that whoever it was could come up to my room but I gathered from the muffled exchange that followed this wasn’t an option.
I said I would be down in fifteen minutes.
After a quick shower and much deliberation about who my mysterious visitor might be – and whether it was another twist to what had already happened – I took the lift to the ground floor, albeit somewhat apprehensively after my earlier experiences. The receptionist, who looked rather uncomfortable himself, indicated the far end of the foyer. The lights were dimmed and I couldn’t see anybody at first, the foyer appearing to be deserted. I walked slowly across the marble floor, my rubber-soled shoes squeaking with each step.
There was a man seated at the far end of the foyer, his upper body hidden behind a copy of the Singapore newspaper, The Straits Times. When he became aware that I was there, he lowered the paper and a youngish local man folded it neatly before placing it on the table in front of him on which there was glass containing a fizzy drink.
The man stood up and proffered a hand. “Mr Bly?” he enquired, his mouth breaking into a polite smile, while the rest of his face remained passive. Abby had always been proud of the fact that he was one of the few Bruneians who was able to pronounce my name correctly. The doctor in the hospital and now this man had proved his point.
My visitor was about five feet six inches tall, slim with longer than normal jet-black hair. His lower
jaw protruded slightly crookedly and his smile was lopsided as a result. I took his hand and looked at him inquisitively.
“You do not know me, Mr Bly,” he said quite deliberately. “My name is Haji Ismail Bin Jarrarudhin and I am an Inspector with the Brunei Darussalam Internal Security Police.” He gestured to the seat next to him. “Please sit down.”
Sitting down as he asked, I realised the extra twist I had forecast was about to be revealed.
“May I get you a drink?” the Inspector asked, already raising his hand and beckoning a waiter who I hadn’t noticed was standing by the door into the bar.
“Yes,” I replied a little anxiously, “thank you. The same as you, please.” The whisky I had consumed rather too quickly up in my room was still making me feel quite light-headed.
The Inspector held up his drink in one hand, showing two fingers with the other. The waiter nodded and disappeared into the bar.
“Now, Mr Bly, I must apologise for asking you to see me at this late hour, but it is important.”
“How can I help, Inspector?” I asked, trying to remain calm on the outside but feeling my stomach churning. Although I had anticipated another twist, my mind was now trying to second guess what was going to happen … and it was failing. A visit from the notorious Internal Security Police was perhaps more serious than anything that had already happened.
“Mr Bly, can you tell me why you were forcibly removed from the RIPAS Hospital this afternoon?”
His question was direct and the expression on his face suggested that he genuinely didn’t know the answer and there was some concern in his eyes. If this was an official enquiry then I doubted whether the foyer of the Sheraton Utama Hotel would be the chosen place to conduct it. A stupid thought went through my mind: after being drugged and abducted by my own side, should I now be wary of somebody from the other side who seemed to be genuinely interested in my welfare?
Moreover, why was I regarding them as being on different sides?
I fully intended taking what had happened in The High Commission further but not with the local authorities – along with my solicitor, the Foreign Office was destined for another visit, but this time a successful one.
“I can understand what it might have appeared to be from an outsider’s point of view,” I said, “but if they’d known the circumstances, they may have understood.”
The corners of the Inspector’s mouth turned down as he took on board what I had said. “In Brunei we have a saying for someone who is confusing his listener. We say they are talking like an orang-utan. If I remember correctly, in England you say somebody is talking double-Dutch.” He let the lop-sided smile return to his lips but his eyes weren’t smiling. “What you have said is what I would expect a Dutch orang-utan to say.” The smile became an accusatory grin. “Mr Bly, I am not an idiot. I know what I mean by forcibly removed, and so do you.”
I nodded. “You are right, Inspector, and I’m sorry.” I took a sip of my drink. “It was all a misunderstanding. I had been to the beach with a woman from The High Commission and she had an accident. I took her to the RIPAS. I think the people who came from the Commission misunderstood the situation and didn’t bother to find out the facts. I went with them to explain.”
“Mr Bly,” the Inspector said patiently, “we now have a whole gathering of Dutch orang-utans.” He inclined his head before carrying on. “Brunei is a rich country and His Majesty the Sultan uses its wealth to give his people a good standard of living, and one which is much higher than its neighbours in Sabah and Sarawak. He is a generous man, and therefore idolised by most of his people. Nevertheless, there are those who believe that benevolence does not excuse dictatorship and they generate rumours of wide corruption to stir up trouble in their pursuit of political change. Brunei’s Internal Security Police come from the most loyal supporters of His Majesty for obvious reasons. We must protect His Majesty the Sultan and ensure his government remains stable at all times. To this end, investigations into disruptive behaviour are immediate and thorough. Dato Haji Abdullah, our Minister of Development, asked my department to keep a special watch on you.” He smiled again when he saw my surprise. Abby had told me I was being watched but he hadn’t told me it was by the Internal Security Police. Putting his hand near my arm, the Inspector continued, “But we were to watch you for your own protection, not because we thought you might be a subversive!”
“I’m pleased to hear that, Inspector, and again I must apologise,” I said.
“I understand the situation with which you are faced. I would suggest that perhaps you do not know what is going on but you do feel you are in the middle of something. Am I right?”
“Totally, Inspector, but what I told you about the beach was the truth.” My mouth was suddenly very dry, I picked up my glass and drained it.
“I know you went to the beach and also what happened while you were there. My team could not follow you to the beach because they would have been too obvious, but we were also watching Mrs Mackintosh from the moment she arrived at the airport, but for different reasons.” I frowned and the Inspector leaned a little closer. “I have been told you that you coped extremely well with what happened and Mrs Mackintosh owes you her life.”
Ignoring the compliment, my frown stayed. “May I ask why you were or are watching Mrs Mackintosh?”
“She is not what she seems, Mr Bly. She is something more than she purports to be. I am not sure you can trust her,” the Inspector said solicitously.
“Dato Haji Abdullah implied the same but told me no more than that. Can you?”
A couple of European men in business suits came in through the front doors and went over to the reception desk. The Inspector didn’t speak again until they had collected their keys and the lift doors had closed.
“Unfortunately, that is one of the reasons why we are watching her, to try and find out ourselves. I cannot tell you anything more than that because … well, I am sure you understand there are certain things we must keep to ourselves.”
“Can’t you ask her or the High Commissioner? It’s your country, surely you have a right to know.”
The Inspector allowed yet another smile to cross his lips. “It does not work like that, Mr Bly. She has done nothing wrong as far as we know and diplomatic immunity operates in every country. Brunei is no different. We must find out by our own methods and, by telling you that, I have told you too much.”
“Inspector, I presume you’re aware that I was out on Dato Haji Abdullah’s launch yesterday?”
“Yes, Mr Bly, of course I am aware.”
“Once we were anchored offshore, we were buzzed by a couple of Chinese air force jets. Could they have had something to do with what is going on?”
“It is unlikely, Mr Bly,” he said without hesitation. “The Chinese are always trying to show how big and brave they are. It happens quite often.”
Abby had said the connection between the Spratley Island, the Chinese and the possible seditious elements, was unsubstantiated, at least he’d told me the truth about that. “So, the Chinese aren’t currently considered to be a direct threat to Brunei’s stability?”
“Being internal security it is not really my area, Mr Bly. However, there are many Chinese in Brunei and I also have many reliable information sources among them. I have heard nothing that suggests we, or any other South East Asian Nation, are under any greater threat than normal.” The waiter was hovering again, out of earshot but hovering. The Inspector looked at his watch. “It is late, Mr Bly, but I would like a few more minutes of your time. Would you like another drink?”
“Yes, please.”
I felt hungry as well as thirsty, but decided to order some food from room service later. I watched the Inspector as he waited for the waiter to go back into the bar.
Before the Inspector could speak again, I asked my next question. “I tried to speak with Dato Haji Abdullah before I was called down to see you, Inspector, but he was out. Do you know when he’ll be at home again?”
“I would not usually be able to tell you, Mr Bly, but tonight I can. His Majesty The Sultan called an emergency meeting of his Ministers this afternoon and, as is normal, the Ministers’ wives also meet with Her Majesty Pengiran Isteri Hajjah Miriam.”
“I see, that explains it. Are you able to tell me … no, that would be a silly question …”
“If you were going to ask what His Majesty’s meeting was about then yes, it would be a question I could not answer. If I may return to what happened at the RIPAS, Mr Bly, I would like to ask you again for the reason you were forcibly taken to The High Commission.”
Spreading my hands I sighed. “Inspector, I apologise once more for trying earlier to make light of what happened but I really can’t help you. One minute I was sitting with a doctor being told that Mrs Mackintosh was going to be all right, the next these three men arrive, tell me I have been arrested, drug me and a couple of hours later I wake up in what I believed to be The British High Commission. They start to question me, give nothing away in their questioning, and then suddenly it all stops and they drive me back to this hotel as though nothing had happened.” I took a sip of my drink. “I really don’t know why I was abducted. The only connection I made was that it happened after I took Mrs Mackintosh to the hospital, and after listening to what you have said, perhaps she was the real reason I was abducted.”
“It is my turn to say, I see, Mr Bly.” The Inspector had been staring at his fingernails as he spoke but he looked up at me suddenly. “You have spent a number of hours with Mrs Mackintosh. May I ask if she has said anything that you think might be of interest to me?”
“No, Inspector, I can’t. Once again I must be negative, I’m afraid.” I thought it best if I didn’t mention what Abby had asked me to do. He believed he had good reason to go four miles offshore before discussing his concerns and I didn’t want to break that confidence, but I would be speaking with him again, and soon, and when I did I would be asking him a few direct questions. “On Saturday Mrs Mackintosh and I went out for a meal … but of course you’ll know that.” He nodded. “We talked about everything and nothing, our respective families and life back in England, that sort of thing. Then on the beach, the accident occurred before we’d really had the chance to talk about anything at all.”
Pooh Bridge: conscience stricken Page 22
