Bitter Sweet Harvest (35 page)

“So,” said Kam as he approached the canoe. He studied Mark at length, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll keep what I wanted to say until later when we have got the boy. I want you to stay here. We’ll surround the hut. It is already dark and the water has receded almost completely. In this low tide, it will not be difficult. The soft sand will muffle the sound of our footsteps. We have a helicopter as back up. It will keep some distance away so as not to attract attention. It will come in only at the last moment.”

“No! Please let me come with you,” pleaded Mark, “I will not be in your way. Tim will not be as frightened if he sees me coming to the rescue. He might scream if he sees your men and that would alert the two men, even if you succeed in getting to the hut.”

Kam hesitated for a moment. “Right, let’s go! You just follow and keep out of the way. Do exactly as I tell you.”

Kam and his police commandoes spread out, moving in a pincer-like formation towards the hut where the two men had emerged earlier. They walked soft-footed across the sand, carrying their arms. Footprints formed and vanished, washed away by the lapping waves of the receding tide. Their bodies cast long shadows in front, like shadow puppets mimicking and pre-empting their every movement. Mark kept close to Kam. They crouched low as they moved forward. They kept their eyes fixed firmly on the hut in case one of the occupants should come out and somehow manage to spot them in the dark. The distant roar of the sea camouflaged all sound. Within minutes, they reached the base of the stilts. Kam motioned everyone to move into position. Two of the commandoes clambered up a stilt with the aid of a rope thrown around an anchor post on the jetty. Once on top they laid belly down on the jetty a short distance from the hut, their guns pointed at the doorway. In the meantime, the two other men clambered up a pair of stilts directly below the hut itself. They moved quickly and climbed with simian-like agility. They grasped the stilts as high as they could, then drew up their knees. Clutching the stilts firmly with their feet, they straightened their legs pushing their bodies further up the stilts and reached upwards with their arms. Once again they grasped the stilts, drew up their knees and repeated the climbing sequence. The movements were fast, graceful, effortless. They pulled themselves up and clambered onto a wooden platform that ran around the hut, then made their way towards the doorway. Once there, they drew their firearms and stood with their backs flat against the wall.

The sound of music drifted from the hut, interspersed by harsh guttural swearing. Dice were thrown and cards were unveiled. Slap! Slam! A child whimpered. A string of expletives followed, “
Diu lei loh mo!
F... your mother! Stop crying!”

Mark placed a foot forward, ready to sprint to the jetty. He looked at Kam who shook his head and silently mouthed, “No! Follow me.”

Kam moved round the stilts supporting the hut with Mark close on his heels. Kam knew these fishing huts would have another exit in addition to the main one that led out to the jetty. To the front of the hut, facing the sea, there was a door that opened on to a platform used for casting fishing nets. Now, with low tide, the drop from the platform to the ground was great. It was unlikely that anyone would choose to jump from that height, but, still, precautions must be taken, thought Kam. He could not spare any of his men to keep watch here; he needed them to guard the front exit, which the two thugs were most likely to use to escape. He motioned Mark to station himself below the exit that faced out to sea, pointing upwards to tell him to keep watch. That should keep Mark out of the way, he thought, and he might be useful in the unlikely event that someone did decide to jump. He left Mark and made his way towards the jetty, to the men he had left there.

Suddenly one of Cheong’s men appeared at the doorway leading out to the jetty. He sauntered nonchalantly out of the hut, one hand dug deep into his trouser pocket fishing out his pack of cigarettes. He turned to speak to the man within. A sudden movement by the doorway caught his eye. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but the policeman who had been laid on his belly was already moving forward. He took him from the behind, pressing one arm around his victim’s throat in a stranglehold and using his free hand to twist the man’s right arm behind his back. They fell with a thud! Immediately the rest of the police force rushed forward. The lights went out in the hut and it was engulfed in darkness momentarily before the powerful torches of the police lit the area.

“Give up! You are surrounded! Hand over the boy!” Kam’s voice boomed through a loud hailer. “Walk out with both hands on your head.”

“I have the boy and I have a knife to his throat!” shouted the accomplice from within.

“You would not wish to harm the boy. It will only add to the seriousness of your crime. Hand over the boy peacefully and we will take this into account. This is your only chance for reprieve.”

Silence followed.

At the opposite end of the hut, Mark stood below the platform and the seaward exit, every sinew in his body ready for action. He was half-hidden by the protruding planks as he peered intently through the gaps between them at the exit. Suddenly, the shadow of a man appeared barely visible against the dark night sky. Like lightning he leapt clear off the platform. He landed badly on his back with one leg caught twisted beneath him. Mark saw the struggling bundle that the man was trying to hold. Mark stepped forward and quickly grabbed the bundle from the man and embraced it in his arms. Within seconds, Kam’s men surrounded them.

T
he book lay open on An Mei’s lap, unread. All around her was darkness except for the light coming from the solitary table lamp behind her. She flipped through the pages at random; the text appeared like meaningless squiggles. She snapped the book shut. She could not read. She could not concentrate. Torturous thoughts tormented her ever since Detective Superintendent Kam left. She had told him all she knew of Mark and Aquino’s whereabouts. Now all she could think of was Tim and Mark. Has Kam found them? She could not bear to think of the danger they must be in, danger that she had put them in. She could not dismiss from her mind visions of what might be happening. She worried and fretted. Over and over again, she prayed. “Please, please, let them return safely.”

The door opened. Nelly came in. She took one look at An Mei and said, “Go to bed. Take a rest. I’ll sit up and wait.”

“I can’t.” An Mei looked at the clock. “You go back to bed. There is absolutely no need for you to be tired as well.

“I’ll make some tea,” replied Nelly. “Why don’t you lie ... look!” A sudden flash of light caught her attention. She pointed to the window. Two cars had swerved into the street. The rotating beams of the lights perched on top of them lit up the road and penetrated into the room. An Mei rushed to the door. The doors of the cars opened. A policeman came out of one of them, followed by Mark, holding Tim.

“Mummy, Mummy!” shouted Tim.

Mark released him and he ran as fast as his little legs would take him to An Mei. She scooped him up into her arms and snuggled her nose into his little body, covering his face with kisses. Tears rolled down her face. Mark reached her and took her in his arms, with Tim squashed between them. They laughed. Joy, pure joy bubbled out of them. Yet, they cried. Their eyes streamed. Nelly looked on and reached for her shirt ends, bringing them to her eyes as she too joined in their happiness and relief.

Kam came forward. He did not wish to interrupt their joyful reunion, but he was in a hurry. He stood aside for a moment watching them. He cleared his throat. They were totally wrapped up in each other. They did not hear him. He was forced to interrupt them. “Mmm! Excuse me, but I have to leave. The two men have been taken straight to the police station for questioning and I have to be there. I hope that it will not be long before we catch Ahmad. I am sure we can make them talk. We’ll take Aquino with us. He will be useful.”

The smile on An Mei’s face vanished. She had forgotten about Aquino. A feeling of guilt and apprehension crossed her face. She looked at Mark and then at Kam. “Will Aquino be all right?” she asked. “I have reneged on my promise not to tell the police. He fears the police. He fears that he will be deported. We promised him he would come to no harm and that he would be able to stay. At least, let that promise be kept.”

Kam looked at her sternly. “It is not your place to promise him something that you have no authority over. As far as we are concerned, if he is a bona fide visitor in Singapore and not an illegal immigrant he will not be deported from Singapore for illegal entry. I have no idea of his status in Malaysia. That would be a matter for the Malaysian authorities. However, as to the role he played in the kidnapping, it is a different matter...” Kam let his sentence hang.

“If it were not for him we would not have found Tim. I would hope that will count for something. In any case, he was forced into the situation and came to us as soon as he could,” protested Mark. He looked beyond Kam’s shoulder. Aquino was looking at him, his face, white with fear. “Please sir, if there is any leniency that can be applied to his case, I would appreciate it. I’ll stand guarantor.”

Kam swept his eyes over Mark. “You sir will also need to come to the station to make a statement. There are many questions to be answered. Your interference with the law, trying to take the matter of rescue into your own hands, obstructing police work are all serious matters.”

Mark kept silent.

“It’s my fault,” said An Mei. “I persuaded him to do it.”

Kam regarded her with his steady gaze. He had been struck by what Nelly had told him about An Mei’s situation. His view of her had changed dramatically since then. When he first saw her with Mark, he had allowed his own bias to see her as an
ang moh
lover, a woman that prefers white skin. He had been contemptuous then, especially when Hussein called to say that he was her husband. Now he saw her differently and with compassion. So he softened his stance and returned his attention to Mark.

“However, Mr. Hayes has also shown exceptional courage during the rescue. We’ll leave this for tomorrow because we have more urgent matters to attend to. But both of you are not to leave the country. We’ll call for you tomorrow.”

An Mei tucked a blanket around Tim and straightened his bedclothes. She kissed his cheek, stroked it and bent once more to kiss it, lingering on to smell him, his little boy scent. It was a habit that she had not been able to cast aside. She had to restrain herself from picking him up and pulling him close to her again. Mark placed his arm around her shoulder and took her hand. “Let him sleep. He is exhausted and so are you,” he said, leading her away.

They had made up a little bed in their bedroom in Jane’s house, unwilling to let Tim out of their sight. They walked to the far end of the room and sat down, sharing a low seat by the bay window. An Mei placed her head on Mark’s shoulders. She felt safe when he was around. It felt like he had taken on her burden and worries, and made a cocoon for her to nestle in. She felt loved and needed. It was sufficient that he was there. She sighed and closed her eyes and began to drift off.

Out of nowhere, Hussein’s face came to her mind’s eye, another love, a different love, a different time. For a split second, she felt its pull and was confused. She struggled, shaking her head to will the image away. She woke herself up. She opened her eyes wide and turned to look at Mark. She needed to affirm that it was a dream. He looked at her mystified. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. She drew her finger along his face, down his nose and jaw line seeking to imprint his face in her mind. She sought to wipe out the image of Hussein. She kissed Mark, gently on his lips and his eyebrows and then more fervently. He held her tight. They sat not speaking, his arms around her. Her serenity returned. With it came complete relaxation; then exhaustion hit her. The room fell quiet. Her eyelids grew heavy and she dozed off. Mark saw her sleep; his eyelids began to droop and within minutes he too fell fast asleep.

At the break of dawn, An Mei stirred. And with that awakening came a crush of all the worries that had been temporarily pushed aside by sheer exhaustion. She squirmed from under the weight of Mark’s arms and sat upright, the tension in her body returned as though she had never rested. Every muscle in her body felt tight. She could feel it in her neck, between her shoulder blades. Mark woke up and rubbed his bleary eyes. When he opened them, he could see the anxiety on her face.

“We did not have a chance to talk last night,” said An Mei immediately. Her voice was urgent. “Hussein is here, in Singapore, and I met him. He believes that Tim is his. I told him Tim was yours, but I do not think he believed me.” She broke off. A heat seemed to have risen from the depth of her to fill her chest and lungs. She had no tears. She had used them all up. The inevitable had arrived and she would have to face up to it. “Now, begins another battle,” she said. Her voice was resigned.

Mark moved closer to comfort her; he felt deeply her despair.

“I so, so fear losing Tim. Tell me, what shall we do?” asked An Mei.

“We will have to wait to see what Hussein wants. He might not pursue us if we can convince him that Tim is not his. After all he has not made any effort to look for you all these years.” Mark was wary whenever he spoke of Hussein to An Mei. In the past he had not wished to delve too closely into An Mei’s feelings for her former husband for fear that he might discover something he would prefer not to know. The past was the past. The circumstances had changed now. Hussein was with them and Mark felt he had to tackle the issue headlong. He watched his wife intently to see how she would respond.

An Mei looked away unable to bring herself to tell Mark what Hussein had said to her; that he wanted her back. A hatred and anger rose in her when she thought of what Hussein had said. It was not only anger against Hussein but also an anger directed at herself. She was angry that he had managed to stir something that she thought was long dead. He had managed to disturb her peace with a mere sentence. She still thought of what could have been. She despised herself for her weakness. She could not understand why she was doing this to herself. Was it because she hankered for what she could not have and in the process prized too low a love that she did have?