‘Selfish bastards!’ Torrance felt slightly foolish. He could not help but think he should have done something more. Not that he cared one way or another if half a dozen squaddies cleaned out a jeweller’s shop – in fact he was kicking himself for not having had the same idea – but he was annoyed to see a chance of a lift out of Kuala Lumpur snatched away.
Rossi burst out laughing.
‘You think that’s funny?’ asked Torrance.
Rossi gestured at the jewellery shop. ‘If that wisnae the British Empire in a nutshell, I don’t know what is.’
‘Oh, give it a rest! All that proves is what I’ve said all along – it’s a dog-eat-dog world.’
‘I agree.’
‘You do?’
‘Aye. The difference between you an’ me isnae the way we see the world, Slugger. The difference is that I want to make it a better place. You just want it to stay the way it is, so you don’t have to feel guilty about being a selfish bastard.’
Torrance knew there had to be an appropriate comeback to that, but before he could think of one they reached the Gombak River, a sluggish torrent of brown water perhaps thirty yards wide, which presented the more pressing problem of how to get across. The Bombay Sappers and Miners had already been here: the bridge lay at the bottom of the river in a tangle of twisted girders, and a water main that had run under the tarmac now disgorged into the turbid flood. Torrance saw at once it might be possible to get across by walking on the girders, if the current was not too fast, the person crossing did not mind getting wet, and the bridge did not collapse further under the additional weight. He looted the longest length of washing line he could find in an abandoned hardware shop, then tied one end around his waist, the other to the last railing on the embankment, and got Grant and Rossi to lower him down.
On the near side of the river the uppermost girder was only ankle deep, and the current scarcely snatched at his boots. The metal had not been submerged long enough to develop a patina of algae that might otherwise have made it slippery. As he picked his way across, Grant and Rossi paid out the rope behind him. The girder got deeper closer to the middle of the river, until Torrance was almost waist deep, but then there was another girder lying across it. He climbed up on to that and resumed his precarious crossing.
He clambered up the far embankment and tied the other end of the washing line to one of the stone pillars supporting an ornate Victorian street lamp. The others came across one by one, using the washing line for a hand-rope to steady them. The last few feet were steep, but Torrance waited to help them up one after another. When Sheridan reached the safety of the opposite embankment, she clung breathlessly to Torrance for a moment.
‘Okay?’ he asked her.
She scowled and pushed him away from her, as if he had been the one who had grabbed her. He felt nettled. Bloody judies, he thought.
The six of them made their way past the cricket ground – now pitted with bomb craters – and the mock-Tudor Selangor Club. Passing under the railway bridge, they headed up Club Road until they came to the barracks. As soon as they passed through the gates, Torrance saw the place had a deserted air. It was eerie: barracks were places of noise and bustle, and he could practically hear the ghostly echoes of NCOs barking orders, the tramp of squaddies’ boots on the parade ground, and bugles sounding the last post. A shudder ran down his spine as if someone was square-bashing on his grave.
An Indian emerged from the kitchens. Seeing the five soldiers, he turned and ran along the colonnade. Torrance sprinted to intercept him. The Indian was a few yards ahead as they came around the corner of the building. Torrance put on an extra burst of speed and brought him down with a flying rugby tackle. The two of them grappled briefly, rolling in the dust, but by the time the others arrived, Torrance had the man pinned to the ground.
‘All right, chum, where d’you think you’re going?’ Torrance picked himself up, and helped the Indian up after him.
‘Please, sahib! My name is Ashok Rao, I am punkah-wallah!’
‘Where are the troops who were garrisoned here?’ asked Kerr.
‘They pulled out this morning. Colonel Paget sahib said Kuala Lumpur has been declared an open city, so the Japanese will not hurt too many people or do too much damage when they arrive.’
‘So we’re just gaunae let the Japs stroll into Kuala Lumpur without so much as a fight?’ asked Grant. ‘Bloody hell! Is it me, or are we losing this war?’
‘That’s enough of that sort of talk, Private Grant!’ said Kerr. ‘I’m sure it’s only a tactical withdrawal.’
‘Oh, a tactical withdrawal, is it?’ said Torrance. ‘Oh, well, that’s all right, then.’ He gave Rao a clip around the back of the head. ‘Go on, then. Off you sod.’
The only vehicle they found at the barracks was a three-tonne lorry. Torrance tried to get it started, but the engine seemed dead. When he opened the bonnet to see what the problem was, he found the engine block was missing. He slammed the bonnet down. ‘Sod it!’
‘Maybe we can still catch a train,’ said Kerr.
Leaving the barracks, they made their way down Victoria Avenue. The few cars Torrance saw were either burned-out wrecks or had been cannibalised for parts, and he found no opportunities to replace a missing carburettor from one car with a compatible model taken from one of the cars on blocks with their wheels missing.
With its gleaming white walls, horseshoe-arched windows and onion-domed chhatris on the roof, the station looked more like a Mughal palace than a railway terminus. It also had a silent and deserted air. No ticket collectors barred their way as they passed from the booking hall to the platforms. A steamer trunk had been broken open on one platform, the contents – mostly women’s scanties – strewn about and trampled underfoot, emphasising the station’s forlorn atmosphere. Billows of smoke rose from goods wagons burning in a marshalling yard a few hundred yards away.
‘I think we’ve missed the last train to Singapore,’ said Rossi.
MacLeod grinned. ‘Next train’s gorn!’ he said in a passable imitation of Moore Marriott in Oh, Mr Porter! Then his smile faded as the reality of their situation sank in. ‘Now what do we do?’
‘Well, we’ve got three choices,’ said Torrance. ‘We can either wait here till the Japs come, hoof it by Shanks’ pony to Singapore...’
‘Singapore!’ spluttered Kerr. ‘You’re off your head, man! The sun’s got to you! Singapore’s two hundred miles away!’
‘We can take it in easy stages. Anyway, we may not have to walk the whole bloody way. We might find a car. Who knows? Maybe we’ll meet our lads coming back the other way, though I wouldn’t count on it. Tactical withdrawal my arse! Total bloody rout, more like.’
‘What’s the third choice?’ asked Sheridan.
‘Port Swettenham’s only twenty miles west of here,’ said Torrance. ‘We might find a boat to take us across the Strait of Malacca to Sumatra.’
She glanced at her watch. ‘Whatever we decide, we’d be crazy to set out now – it’ll be dark in another hour. Why don’t we spend the night here in KL? We can freshen up, get something to eat, get a good night’s rest in comfortable beds, and decide what we’re going to do tomorrow.’
‘Makes sense to me,’ said Kerr. ‘The Japs’ll no’ march into Kuala Lumpur without sending scouts ahead of them, and we’ve no’ seen a Jap patrol all day. I reckon we’ll be all right to spend the night at the barracks on Bluff Road, as long as we’re on our way at first light—’
‘The barracks?’ said Torrance. ‘Stuff that! Why would I want to spend the night at a manky barracks when the Hotel Majestic is just over there?’ He pointed to a gleaming white building on the other side of the avenue.
‘The Hotel Majestic! You canna afford to stay at the Hotel Majestic. Besides, there’ll be nobody there, it’ll be locked up.’
‘Two problems which cancel each other out,’ said Torrance. ‘We’ll have to do without room service, but I don’t mind roughing it for a night.’
‘I do have to pop into the Majestic,’ said Sheridan. ‘Before Eric left to join his unit, we agreed that if anything happened – if either of us couldn’t get back to the plantation – we’d leave a message for the other at the concierge’s desk.’
‘Lefty, why don’t you and Jimmy take the doc to the hotel while Primsie, Titch and me go the barracks on Bluff Road? Whatever we do tomorrow, it’ll involve some walking. We might as well make sure we don’t run out of grub on the way. There’ll be stores in the barracks – I bet we’ll find all the rations we need.’
‘Our lads will no’ have left anything that might be of use to the Japs,’ asserted Kerr.
Torrance laughed. ‘Wanna bet?’
The Bluff Road barracks turned out to be just as deserted as the ones on Club Road. Torrance fetched a couple of paper clips from the administration block and went to work on the padlock on the door to the quartermaster’s stores.
‘Trust you to know how to do somethin’ like that!’ said Kerr.
Grant watched Torrance try to pick the padlock for a couple of minutes, then wandered off. Torrance was still trying to pick the lock five minutes later when Grant returned with a crowbar and pried the hasp off the door.
‘That’s damage to army property, that is!’ exclaimed Kerr.
‘Away and boil your head, you barmpot!’ said Grant.
Torrance threw open the doors, feeling like Aladdin stepping into the robbers’ cave. There were crates of stuff: tins of bully beef, packets of biscuits, Maconochie M&V rations, everything a growing squaddie needed. ‘So, our lads won’t have left anything that might be of use to the Japs, won’t they?’
They helped themselves to an extra pack each, filling them with rations, then made their way to the clothing store. They got new pairs of shorts to replace the spares they had left at Trolak, and Torrance helped himself to a new pair of boots, since the ones he was wearing had begun to rot in the damp atmosphere of the jungle; along with a new shirt and a new pair of socks, to save himself the trouble of laundering the clothing he was wearing.
Finally they entered the armoury. There were mortars, Vickers guns, Bren guns, Thompsons, Lee-Enfields, chargers of ·303 ammunition, Thompson magazines and Mills bombs. Torrance armed a couple of grenades and stuffed them in his pockets, filled his utility pouches with thirty-round box magazines for the Thompson, then swapped his old Thompson – already grown rusty in the humid atmosphere of the jungle – for a brand spanking new one. After a moment’s hesitation, Kerr did likewise. He gestured at the ammunition they were leaving behind. ‘We’re no’ goin’ to leave this stuff for the Japs, are we?’
‘What d’you want to do?’
‘Blow it up.’
‘D’you see any plastic explosive?’
‘We’ve got grenades.’
‘And how are you gonna set it all off? This lot goes off, it’s gonna cause an explosion with a bigger blast radius than you can lob a grenade… half a mo’, though – I’ve got an idea.’
He stacked some crates of landmines and mortar shells by the door, then wedged a grenade between two crates, making sure the split pin was nice and loose. Then he took a piece of string, tied one end to the ring on the pin, and chivvied the others out. He pulled the door to, squeezed out, then reached an arm through to pull the string taut and wrap it around the handle a few times. ‘Happy?’ he asked Kerr, closing the door.
‘Aye.’
Staggering under the weight of their booty, they headed back to Victoria Avenue and made their way up one side of the Hotel Majestic’s horseshoe-shaped drive. No doorman guarded the portico. Someone – presumably Rossi – had forced the lock on the door. They entered the opulent foyer. Everything looked spick and span, but the place was deserted.
Torrance made his way to the bar. Finding a bottle of fifteen-year-old Laphroaig, he poured a generous measure into a tall glass, added an equal measure of soda water and some ice. He was enjoying the peaty flavour when Sheridan entered. She had sponged the worst of the dirt off her clothes, washed her hair, powdered her face and touched up her lipstick. Torrance, who had thought she was a bit tasty the first time he had seen her, had to admit she looked stunning now.
Despite the opportunity to freshen up, she looked glum. ‘What’s wrong, doc?’ he asked her.
‘Just worried about Eric, I guess.’
‘What you need is a stengah.’ He served up the mixture as before and pushed it across the bar towards her.
She took a sip, nodded approvingly, and took a longer gulp. ‘And I had you pegged for a beer drinker.’
‘You think ’cause I was born in the gutter, I can’t appreciate the finer things in life? The world’s changed, love. All that stuff about everyone knowing his place is going the way of the horse and cart. I might be a humble squaddie now, but when this war’s over, I’m going places.’
‘You sound like Eric.’ The smile which had started to appear on her lips faded again.
‘Is he a Yank?’
‘No, he’s British.’
‘You married an Englishman!’
‘Why, is there a law against that?’
‘You like Englishmen, then?’
‘I did before I married Eric.’ She grimaced. ‘He looks kinda like Stan Laurel. I thought he was cute.’
‘You married him because he reminded you of Stan Laurel?’
‘What can I say? I’m a Stan and Ollie fan.’
‘So am I, but you wouldn’t catch me marrying someone because she looked like Oliver Hardy.’
‘There were other reasons.’ She grinned ruefully. ‘I’m just not sure I can remember them now.’
‘I ’spect he’ll be all right. He’s prob’ly sitting with his feet up at Raffles Hotel, sipping a stengah of his own and worried sick about you.’
‘I doubt it.’ She pasted a smile on her face. ‘As a matter of fact, we’re getting a divorce. It’s just… well, you can’t live with a guy for two years and stop caring about him all at once. I used to love him. Now I just feel sorry for him.’
‘Is that ’cause you caught some native bint French-polishing his todger?’
She coloured. ‘I hardly think that’s any of your business.’
‘He must be doolally. I mean, if I was married to a tasty bit of… I mean to say, if you was my missus, you wouldn’t catch me tom-catting around.’
‘Thank you… I think,’ she said dubiously.
Kerr entered the bar at that moment, much to Torrance’s annoyance. He was not sure, but he suspected he and Sheridan had been on the verge of having a ‘moment’. Still, it was good to know she was available. He might be in with a chance there yet.
‘Have you seen Lefty and Jimmy?’ Kerr asked Torrance.
‘I think they’re in the kitchens, making dinner.’ Sheridan jumped down from her stool. ‘I’ll go and see how they’re doing.’
‘There’s no need to—’
‘I don’t mind.’ She left the bar, leaving Torrance alone with Kerr.
The lance corporal leered. ‘Fancy your chances there, do you, Slugger?’
‘Better than I fancy yours.’
Kerr grinned nastily. ‘You haven’t got a prayer. Dr Sheridan’s a proper lady, even if she is a Yank. She’s got class. No’ like you, you cockney spiv. Pour me a Glenfiddich, laddie.’ He turned to stand with his back to the bar, gazing across the room with a proprietorial air. ‘Aye, she’s officer material, that one. She’d no’ be interested in an OR like you. Ideas above your station, that’s your problem.’
‘If you say so, Primsie.’ Torrance’s hand hovered over the bottle of Glenfiddich. Anything they left behind would only be taken by the Japanese, but even so the thought of wasting such good whisky on an oaf like Kerr stuck in his craw. He took down the bottle of Bell’s instead and splashed some into a crystal tumbler, before replacing the bottle on the shelf. He pushed the tumbler across the bar towards Kerr. ‘Your Glenfiddich, sir.’
Turning back to the bar, the lance corporal took a sip and smacked his lips in satisfaction. ‘Ahh, that’s the stuff to give the troops! That’s the real deal, that is – you canna fool me. Not that a Sassenach like you would appreciate a fine Scottish malt. Where are you goin’?’ he added as Torrance headed for the door.
‘Thought I might have a bit of a scrub-up myself, as it happens.’
Kerr’s mocking laughter followed him out of the bar. ‘I’m tellin’ you, you’re out of your league!’
We’ll see about that, thought Torrance. Helping himself to the key at reception, he made his way to a room on the first floor. As luck would have it, the previous occupant had departed in such a hurry he had left some of his toiletries behind. Torrance shaved and bathed, washing his filthy hair, and climbed out of the tub, towelling himself vigorously with an enormous, fluffy towel. He slicked back his hair with a dab of Brylcreem, slapped some cologne on his cheeks and splashed some more under his armpits. He put on the new uniform he had commandeered at the barracks and dropped his filthy old gear in the wastepaper basket.
Feeling like a million dollars, he made his way to the bar. The others were all studying a wad of papers. They looked up when he entered. They were not smiling.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Torrance.
Kerr held up the papers. Now Torrance saw it was the geological survey. ‘What the hell’s this?’
‘Where d’you get that?’
‘You know bloody well where I got this! In your pack!’
‘What were you doing, going through my pack?’
‘Looking for smokes—’
‘Oi! Steal your own bloody smokes! We must’ve passed half a dozen tobacconists on the Batu Road today. If you wanted fags why didn’t you get some then?’
‘Looting’s a crime!’
‘Oh, but pinching my fags is okay, I suppose?’
‘I think we’re getting off the point here.’ Rossi snatched the survey from Kerr and brandished it at Torrance. ‘I thought you said you’d used this all up?’
Torrance blushed. ‘And you can get your own bloody arse paper! I’ll bet you’ll find all the arse paper you could wish for in the lavs here.’
‘And I suppose you’re going to pretend you didn’t know this survey details the discovery of seams of gold in the Mount Ophir region?’
‘Does it?’
‘Don’t come the innocent with me! You know bloody well it does! What did you think you were gaunae do? Come back after the war and dig it up for yourself?’
Torrance shrugged. ‘You never know your luck. Listen, I was the one who found that survey. If you think you’re getting a share—’
‘A share! Jesus! You don’t get it, do you? What do you think Funf was doing around that plane? He must have been looking for this survey.’
‘You don’t know that—’
‘I can make an educated guess! If the Japs get their hands on that gold, they’ll put it towards their war effort. Tanks, planes, battleships… for all we know, there’s enough gold there to build them a second navy.’
‘Mount Ophir’s in Johore State, that’s miles south of here.’
‘And given the rate at which the Japs have been advancing down this peninsula, it willna be more than a few days before they’ve conquered Johore as well.’
‘Yeah, well, good luck to them on finding the gold, because they haven’t got the survey which tells them where it is.’ Torrance snatched the survey from Rossi. ‘I do, and I’m keeping it.’
‘Oh, you’re welcome to it,’ said Rossi. ‘Jesus! You still don’t get it, do you? The Japs know about that survey. We know they’re looking for it. And thanks to Funf, they know we’ve got it. That’s why he was with the Japs who turned up at the Batu Caves this morning.’
The colour drained from Kerr’s face. ‘Aw, Jeez! All right… we’ll leave the survey somewhere where we know the Japs will find it. Maybe then they’ll stop chasing us.’
‘What, and hand over millions of quids’ worth of gold to the Japanese war effort?’ snorted Grant. ‘Like hell! I say we burn it.’
Torrance hugged the survey to his chest. ‘Oh, no, you don’t! Anyway, I don’t see what good burning it does. The Japs won’t know we’ve burned it, will they? They’ll still be after us.’
‘At least then there’ll be no danger of that survey falling into the Japs’ hands,’ said Grant.
‘And suppose our lads turn the Japs back before they reach Johore? The tide’s got to turn sooner or later, hasn’t it? Instead of being used to build battleships for the Japs, it could go to building battleships for us instead.’
Rossi nodded. ‘He’s right. We’ve got to get that survey back to our lads.’ He turned to Torrance. ‘Give it here.’
‘What for?’
‘You want that gold to go towards our war effort, don’t you? So what does it matter which one of us holds it?’
‘Oh, let him keep it, for Pete’s sake,’ said Sheridan. ‘When you get back to your army, if he won’t give it up you can just tell your commanding officer about the survey, can’t you? Then he’ll have to hand it over.’
‘If he’s no’ sneaked off by then and left us to die,’ said Rossi. ‘We all saw how much of a hurry he was in to leave us all behind at the Batu Caves this morning!’
The chandelier jingled faintly and they looked up at it. ‘Is it an earthquake?’ asked MacLeod.
‘Shit!’ Torrance dashed between the other tables to the window and peered out into the night. Headlights stabbed through the dark, coming down Victoria Avenue, each pair but the first silhouetting the tank in front. They drew up immediately in front of the Hotel Majestic and switched off their engines. Their turrets pointed in all directions, as if to be ready for an attack whichever way it came. A dozen army lorries pulled up behind them and Japanese soldiers swarmed out over their tailgates while NCOs – their harsh tones recognisable in any language – barked orders. Some of the soldiers clattered up the avenue to set up a roadblock. The beams of torches swept this way and that.
A pair of headlights flashed across the front of the hotel as a staff car – an open-topped Toyota Phaeton – turned on to the horseshoe-shaped drive, followed by a lorry. As Japanese soldiers poured out of the back of the lorry, an officer got out of the front passenger seat of the Toyota and opened one of the back doors, bowing low as a second got out, a stocky, middle-aged man wearing a forage cap on his head and no insignia on his tunic but for several rows of medal ribbons on his breast. The soldiers preceded him to the door of the hotel.
‘Time to get the hell out of Dodge!’ Torrance led the way across the dining room, knocking chairs aside in his haste to reach the door.