The Gensui's Treasure. B J Le Chêne
bones. His face is different. It is only his hands; he also has a crooked little finger on the left hand. Other than that, he could be anybody.’
‘Well spotted. Aye, my sister was a twin to me and Boise is her daughter’s son. My great nephew. You use your eyes well, Yoshiro.’
‘Does Boise know about this - this thing - you want to do?’
‘No-no. I don’t want him to be involved at all. He has recently married a lovely girl and I am hoping he will take over this place when I am gone. I want none of my past to jump out at them or have rogues crawling about to bedevil him and his lass. I’ve told him that there’s someone who’d like to buy the estate - which is true, but I’m no willing to sell. The buyer is demanding and unscrupulous. So, it has sufficed as a reason for taking precautions for the time being.’
‘Why have you not told him? Perhaps he could help you?’
‘Because of who and what, he is.’ Mac hesitated for a moment then continued. ‘You should know this. Boise is a very handy man to have around when ye need a hand. Don’t forget that. But he is all I’ve got and I just don’t want him to be involved in what is a lawless affair, unless I must. There is his own work to think of. D ’you see?’ He works for the CIA and…’
There was a tap on the door. MacPherson said, ‘Masuk(5),’ and a Chinese man entered with a tray loaded with what looked like morning tea for two, a hypodermic syringe, a syphon of soda water, two glasses and a bottle of scotch.
‘Ah! Tea’s up. Put it down there, Ah Keat. My friend will pour. Mr Kawaguchi will be staying for a few days?’ He cocked an eye at Yoshiro who looked startled for a moment but gathered his wits and said, ‘Of course. I would love to stay. I have my bags in the car, as it happens.’
‘Good lad.’
Ah Keat put down the tray and crossed to the bed. He lifted the old man forward, bunching up the pillows behind him. ‘Needle first, Mac. Eat, then whisky. Okay?’ he asked sternly. Mac nodded meekly.
Yoshiro grinned at him. ‘So, someone can make you behave eh? Papa said you were too stubborn to listen to anyone.’ He turned to Ah Keat, ‘How do you manage it?’
‘No injection, no eat, no whisky. Simple. Doctor says that’s the best way to make old Scottish stags behave.’ He was smiling as he left the room. Yoshiro had seen genuine affection in the man’s face and warmed to him. Mac obviously returned the regard. So, he was well looked after. His father would have been happy to hear this.
‘You have a loyal servant,’ he said.
Mac looked startled. ‘He’s not a servant. His pappy and I were in the jungle together. He is my adopted son. Lee Kai Hong passed on three years ago and Ah Keat feels I am now his responsibility. His and his brother Kim Seng’s. We adopted both of them, Elsie and me. You’ll meet Kim Seng later, they’re bonny laddies, Ah Keat and Ah Seng.’
‘I apologise for my mistake. But please tell me what is in the syringe? Are you very ill?’ Yoshiro asked.
‘Not your fault. I should have introduced you.’ Frowning fiercely out from under his bushy eyebrows he said bluntly, ‘I’ve a cancer in my liver. ’Tis morphine and something else. Pain is a bugger. When it gets out of control it renders me useless. I need my wits about me so I take what the doctor orders and get on wi’it.’
It was clear that he was unhappy about the drug, but Yoshiro was glad to see that he was sensible enough to take it. Mac saw the thoughts crossing his face and was quick to say, with a grin, ‘Japanese are supposed to be inscrutable. But you are right, I must stay on top a while longer. Let’s eat. Then I’ll rest a bit. We have a lot to get through and not long enough to do it. Get yourself settled and we’ll talk after lunch.’
News from Raja Aziz
The efficient Ah Keat had ordered his bags to be taken to a room a little way along the wide passage from Mac’s room on the first floor. Yoshiro showered in the attached bathroom, where he admired the beautifully-appointed equipment and lay on a chaise-longue with a towel around his hips. There was a breeze coming through the window, but it was warm and laden with moisture. He glanced out of the window and rose to go and look out. His eyes opened in surprise. The grounds below him were beautiful. Smooth green lawns flowed slightly down to tennis courts, far enough away not to interrupt the vista of beds of orchids and great old trees, whose majestic size told the story of their age. He had thought they were a long way from the Jelai River, but it was relatively near, he could hear the slight whispering susurrus of the water. He guessed the river twisted away from the highway, then curved back.
Opened within the last thirty or forty years, the road leading north from Kuala Lipis had given the locals an opportunity to settle the area near the river with housing estates. Further out, rubber and oil palm estates had been created. Robert MacPherson had taken the chance and he had obviously created his own paradise here in the jungle.
Yoshiro’s mobile phone buzzed and, surprised, he answered it. For some reason, he had not expected technology to have come out this far in this country. He shook his head, irritable with himself. This is not a backward country, he muttered to himself. A man’s voice came to him cool and clear from Kuala Lumpur.
‘Good morning,’ it said. ‘My name is Raja Aziz Abdul Hamid, and you are Mister Yoshiro Kawaguchi, am I right?’
Yoshiro said, ‘Yes I am.’
Aziz’s voice hardened. ‘Mac’s man, Kairul, has been attacked. He was stabbed after he gave me a bag which had some papers for Mac’s lawyers. They are in my safe now. Can you take your phone to Mac? I need to ask him about them. I must speak with him. It is urgent.’
‘I will call you back, sir,’ Yoshiro answered. He dressed quickly and five minutes later he was at Mac’s door. Ah Keat sat just inside it reading a newspaper. He looked up and said, ‘I think he is sleeping.’ He put down the newspaper and opened the door wider before he looked to see if the old man was asleep. He was. Shaking his head, Ah Keat went to the bed and gently touched Mac’s shoulder. His eyes opened immediately. Ah Keat helped him to sit up and offered him a drink which he took. After swallowing, he looked at Yoshiro’s face and asked, ‘Trouble?’
Yoshiro said, ‘Yes,’ and dialled the number. When Aziz answered, he passed the phone to Mac then walked to the French doors and looked at the huge bougainvillea that covered the low walls surrounding the patio. Three of the plants mingled their glory, deep crimson, yellow and orange. The colours clashed yet enhanced each other’s richness in a primal savagery that made his heart beat faster. The orchids sitting around the balcony nestled in their ornate pots bloomed in gay profusion adding to the almost riotous feeling of something not quite real. Yoshiro had been feeling this other worldliness in varying degrees since he’d arrived in Kuala Lipis. It was brought about by the decayed splendour of the old residency. A nearby hill called ‘Bius,’ meaning unconscious or anesthetized, the mishmash of house styles and the garments worn by the people with such panache. Then, there was Boise, with his ruined appearance, along with this splendid house in the middle of the jungle with its deceptive serenity and voluptuous garden! It made his senses do cartwheels. Mac’s voice recalled him to the room. He returned to the bedside and Mac held out the mobile phone. He took it, said ‘Hello,’ and heard Aziz’s voice again.
‘Mr Kawaguchi, I am coming to Kuala Lipis today. I will drive and should get there at about five or six this evening. I am afraid that the people your father was worried about are in Malaysia and may have already arrived in Kuala Lipis. Please, don’t leave Mac alone for even one minute. You, Boise, Kim Seng or Ah Keat must be with him in his room at all times. Oh, and close the french doors, put the air conditioner on in the room. I know Mac doesn’t like it. Do it anyway. Hang on, I think the whole house is air-conditioned with a great compressor somewhere close by. Ask Ah Keat to send two men to find it and then watch it. It would be easy to put something in the compressor to knock out all those in the house.’
‘Only Ah Mee, the cook, Kim Seng and Ah Keat must touch his food and medicine. Open a new bottle of morphine