The Gensui's Treasure. B J Le Chêne
For Chen Choong Lee with love
Preface
Raja Abdul Aziz Ahmad is a savant who is blessed or damned with a mind that never forgets anything he sees or hears. He owns a security business dealing with the nation’s top-level government and business security concerns. He is also on occasion asked to solve problems for the army and the police and for private people who need help sorting things out that may be difficult to explain to the authorities.
Raja Aziz does not consider himself bound by conventional laws. Rather, he is bound by what he sees as right. And so, his friends and foes alike respect him as a man of honour. He will not break the law purposefully, but he may bend it a little if he thinks the circumstances warrant it.
The Gensui’s Treasure
Raja Abdul Aziz and his wife, Tunku Rohina, had attended a wedding in Port Klang, Malaysia and though his wife and children had hurriedly changed, he’d had no time to, having been caught up in the going away procession of the bride and groom. They had very nearly missed their flight. He stood watching the turnstile as his family passed through it, not noticing that he was attracting the attention of other travellers. He was a man to command attention at any time, tall and lean, his aristocratic face and carriage would have elicited notice at any time. Now, dressed as he was in a traditional Malay costume of pale blue silk, his hips wrapped in a dark blue, gold thread embroidered short sarung(1), he was quite distinctly on show.
He had deliberately sent his wife, his son and daughter off to visit her sister in Italy for part of the long school break to avoid any danger from the business he had become involved in. He was waiting for his syce(2) to bring the car to drive him back to Kuala Lumpur from the KLIA Airport, when he saw the two men walking towards him. He recognized them immediately and his senses sharpened. The men were Japanese and were beautifully attired and obviously wealthy. They spoke quietly together in their own tongue - a language Aziz spoke well. He turned away slightly as they passed, not wanting them to see his face. He found his breath coming a little faster and, taking out his mobile phone, he called a number. When the soft Scottish voice answered he said, ‘Mac, the troops have arrived.’
‘How d’ye know?’
‘I am at the airport and they have just walked past me.’
‘Jesus God! Did they know you?’
‘No. They have never seen me. As far as I know, they don’t know I exist.’
‘Praise heaven, it stays like that.’
‘Mac, I will find out what they are about and let you know, but we must put the plan into action now, I think. If, you are still of the same mind?’
‘Aye, I am. Boise will be here. He’s finishing a difficult job and he’s tired. He knows nothing about all this. I want to keep him out of it, ye ken? When I go, I want him to have this place and live in peace. That’s if the bugger will let go of the job he’s got,’ he said with a chuckle, then asked, ‘Aziz, has the boy arrived yet?’
'Yoshiro Kawaguchi? No, I don’t think so. Why?’
‘I just wondered how much Akiro has told him and if he will be in any danger?’
‘Did Akiro say that he was going to tell him anything?’
‘No, not really, no. I hope he did, but Akiro died so suddenly and I have only received a short note from Yoshiro saying that his father had insisted that he must come here to meet me. I was to summon him when I need him! Typical Japanese father, eh? The lad should be here any day.'
‘In that case, we will have to wait and see. I could wish it was not necessary for him to come. It could complicate matters.’
‘Aye, that it could.’ Aziz heard the sigh as Mac said, ‘Can you get someone to keep an eye out for him? We must keep him safe.'
'I’ll do that, Mac. You take care. I will see you in a day or so. Cheers.’ He put the phone back into his pocket and spotting his driver, he asked him to drive the car back to his home. The man nodded, and Aziz walked downstairs and boarded the train to Kuala Lumpur. He was anxious to see where the Japanese gentlemen went when they arrived in the city.
The relationship Raja Aziz had with Robert MacPherson had begun as a business arrangement and they had become close friends over some fifteen odd years. Aziz, newly back from university and starting his own security business, had received a call asking if he could go to Kuala Lipis in Pahang to give his advice on the security aspects of a house MacPherson owned on a plantation there.
Intrigued, Aziz set off by car for the small gold mining town over the Titiwangsa mountain range to the state of Pahang. He had driven with his new wife over the exhilarating but tortuous old road towards the east coast. It was said that when the British had taken Malaya, they had improved the old bullock cart track from Bentong town, along the side of the mountain in the footsteps of the bullock cart drivers who had, long before that, followed the elephant tracks along the side of the hills to get to Kuala Lumpur. Elephants, being sensible beasts, always walked the easiest way over obstacles. Aziz’s wife had decided that they would take the new highway through the valleys on their way back. Aziz smiled at the memory.
On their arrival in Kuala Lipis, they’d spent a night at the beautiful old rest house which had in its glory days been the official British Resident’s home. The next day they went to stay with the MacPhersons at their lovely plantation house. The two women clicked and a firm friendship formed between them. Aziz and Mac had as much or probably more fun than the women working out the safety measures to be taken with the new house. Aziz was intrigued by the ideas Mac had. He forbore to ask the reasons for such things as a large, and fully functional, office cum living area under the house (after all, it was peacetime) and of the complicated communication systems throughout the premises.
At that time, their burgeoning friendship was too new for Aziz to ask for reasons. He had no need to make notes. Aziz was a savant. His ability to memorise anything he saw or heard made notetaking superfluous. A fact that had Mac in a perpetual state of wonder and, curiously, excitement. Aziz found the whole experience fascinating. The lovely house was eventually equipped and the security in place, and for the next few years, peace reigned. However, Aziz often wondered why the house needed such security.
The friendship ripened mainly because of the women. They became loving friends. Holidays were spent together and when Aziz’s daughter and then his son were born, the bond between the families tightened. Elsie had no children and doted on the little family of Rohina and Aziz. Slowly, Aziz learned a little of Mac’s history, of the war years and the subsequent events that had led to the fortress-like house. He did not quite understand but thought that everyone had their peculiarities and let it slide into the back of his own peculiar mind. Then, eighteen months ago, he had an urgent call from Elsie. Would he come please? Mac was not well and she was worried.
Rohina was a doctor. She took leave from her clinic at once and joined Aziz on the long drive to Pahang, glad that the superb highway would allow them to reach their destination in a matter of hours. He drove straight to the house and found not just Mac unwell, but Elsie recovering from a stroke. She had refused to leave Mac and go to the hospital so Rohina took charge.
She found Elsie’s heart and her blood pressure in a critical condition and whipped her into hospital at once. Mac was unwell but managing. She checked him over and told Aziz with a worried frown that she believed there was something going on with him. She declared that she would see to him later.
Settled in a chair, Mac told Aziz a story that shocked him thoroughly. After a great deal of thought, he promised that he would find out what he could and see if there was anything he could do. Mac begged him to keep the police out of it. He said, ‘It’s an old and ugly thing and too many people would be hurt if it all became public.’
‘I know Mac. I am still coming to terms with what you have told me,’ Aziz had answered. ‘It is so convoluted and so unexpected now, in this year. It’s not 1945 anymore, for goodness sake.’ He stood up and walked the length of the room. ‘That war has been over for nearly three-quarters of a century. After all this time, it’s unbelievable