Roda grinned again. “Deal gently therefore with the infidel,’ ” he quoted facetiously; “ ‘and grant them a gentle rest.’ ”
Sanusi frowned at the blasphemy but continued to look at me. “By this time tomorrow, Mr. Fraser, I shall have moved my headquarters and the security considerations which have compelled us to detain you here will no longer apply. You and the woman will then be free to leave. You agree, Major?”
“Of course, Boeng.” Suparto’s face was completely impassive.
“Meanwhile, the Major will see that your detention is not made too disagreeable.”
“Thank you, General.”
“We keep our promises, you see.”
With a proud lift of his chin, he strode on out of the office. Roda, with a nod to me, followed.
Suparto looked at me. “You see? It was as well that you reported yourself.”
“Was it? I can see why you find them easy to despise.”
He shrugged. “At least you will get a comfortable night’s sleep.”
He led the way out of the office. We went back along the corridor, through the swing doors and up to the apartment.
The man by the telephone was asleep. The bow-legged officer kicked him to his feet as Suparto entered.
Suparto looked round, then went over to the radio and switched it on. The announcer had begun to read a communique issued by National Freedom Party headquarters claiming that calm and order had been restored in all provinces. Suparto switched it off again.
“This morning,” he said, “an enemy bomb damaged the radio power supply. At the request of Boeng Sanusi, the tuan here repaired the damage and restored the power. Our Boeng has congratulated the tuan on his loyalty and skill, and given strict orders that both he and the woman with him should be treated with the greatest politeness and respect. They will remain in this apartment, but a guard on the terrace will no longer be necessary. Is it understood?”
There was a murmur of agreement. Suparto walked over to the drink table, picked up a bottle of whisky, and went out on to the terrace.
I followed.
Outside the living-room window he stopped and called the guard over. When the man came he dismissed him.
“You will not be so foolish as to try to leave the apartment, I hope, Mr. Fraser?”
“All I want to do is to rest.”
He put the bottle of whisky into my hand. “We have no use for this,” he said; “perhaps it will help you to sleep.”
He turned on his heel and went inside again.
I walked along the terrace.
Rosalie had heard our voices and was standing by the window waiting for me. As I approached, she switched on the light.
My appearance must have been a shock to her; it was a shock even to me when I saw myself in the mirror; but she did not say anything. She was waiting for me to make the first move.
I put the bottle down and kissed her. She held on to me for a moment, then she smiled.
“I heard what the Major said. Was it true?”
“More or less. Anyway, we have a reward. We are to be treated with consideration. You see, the sentry has already gone.”
“Does it mean they will let us go?”
“Well…” I hesitated. “Not yet. I’ll tell you about it in a minute. I must clean myself up first.”
She was watching me closely, and I knew that I was not going to be able to pretend to her for very long. I turned away as if to take my shirt off and saw that there were bowls of food and fruit on the table.
“You haven’t eaten,” I said. “I asked them to send it up for you.”
“Do you think I would eat when I did not know what had happened to you?”
“The rice will be cold,” I said stupidly.
She did not answer. She was still wondering what it was that I had not told her. I looked round the room. In some way she had managed to get rid of the plaster dust and rubble and make the place tidy. I wanted to comment on the fact, but I could not get the words out.
I sat down on the edge of the chair and started to unbutton my shirt. As I did so, she knelt down in front of me and took off my waterlogged shoes. I fumbled with the shirt. My fingers were scratched and sore, and one of the buttons caught in a loose thread. In a weak rage I tore it free. She looked up, and then, with a murmured apology, began to help me. Every stitch of clothing I had on smelt of oil and sweat and dirty water. When I had undressed, I gathered it all up and threw it out on to the terrace.
She smiled. “While you are bathing I will get out some clean things.”
Luckily there was still plenty of water left in the bathhouse; I had to soap myself several times from head to foot before I could get rid of the smell of oil.
When I got back to the room, she had switched off the top light so that there was not so much glare, and had put the bedside lamp on. There was a set of clean clothes ready for me on my bed, and also a neatly folded batik sarong.
“I can wash some of our clothes,” she explained, “but I cannot iron them. You have only those white trousers clean and two more shirts. There are some of Roy’s things there, but they will not fit you. Perhaps it is foolish to think of such things now but…”
“No. You’re quite right. Anyway, a sarong will be more comfortable. Up in Tangga I often wore one.”
“You do not object that it is one of mine?”
“Object? It’s a beauty.”
She watched me critically while I put it on.
“There are, perhaps, more suitable materials for a man,” she said at length; “but it does not look effeminate.”
“Good. Have you another one for yourself?”
“Oh yes. But while you were not here and the guard was outside, it was better that I looked as European as possible. In batik I look more Sundanese.”
“Then look Sundanese.”
She smiled, and, going to the other end of the room, began to take off her dress. In the next room they switched on the radio.
I opened the bottle of Jebb’s whisky that Suparto had given me, and poured out two drinks. I drank one straight down. Then I refilled the empty glass and took it over with me to my bed. The bruise on my stomach was beginning to be painful and I lay down gingerly. When I was stretched out flat, however, the muscles began to relax, the pain went and a delicious drowsiness began to steal over me. In the next room a voice on the radio was announcing that General Sanusi would shortly address a message to the world. I closed my eyes.
There was something moving against the fingers of my right hand and I half opened my eyes. Rosalie was gently removing the glass that I had been holding. Her hair was down over her shoulders, the sarong was fastened at her waist and she had a narrow scarf draped loosely over her breasts like a country woman. She looked beautiful. I remained still and watched while she placed the glass gently on the bedside table. Then, she glanced at me and saw that I was not asleep. She smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. I took her hand.
“There’s something I’d better tell you,” I said.
“I know, but you are very tired. Sleep first.”
“Sanusi said that by this time tomorrow he would have moved his headquarters, and that we would be free.”
“And does he not mean it?”
“Oh yes, he means it, but there are things he doesn’t know.”
“Tell me.”
“He’s in a trap. It was all a trap; the garrison leaving the city unprotected; promises from men he thought he could trust that they would bring over their troops to his side; assurances that the country was waiting for his
