hollow sound. But he could not find the cracks. Angrily he jabbed the bayonet into the wood.
The lid came free.
'So.'
Yoshima was proud that he had found the radio. The General would be pleased. Pleased enough, perhaps, to assign him a combat unit, for his Bushido revolted at paying informers and dealing with these animals.
Smedly-Taylor moved forward, awed by the ingenuity of the hiding place and the patience of the man who made it. I must recommend Daven, he thought. This is duty above and beyond the call of duty. But recommend him for what?
'Who belongs to this bunk?' Yoshima asked.
Smedly-Taylor shrugged and went through the same pretense of finding out.
Yoshima was sorry, truly sorry that Daven had only one leg.
'Would you like a cigarette?' he said, offering the pack of Kooas.
'Thank you.' Daven took the cigarette and accepted a light but did not taste the smoke.
'What is your name?' Yoshima asked courteously.
'Captain Daven, Infantry.'
'How did you lose your leg, Captain Daven?'
'I - I was blown up by a mine. In Johore - just north of the causeway.'
'Did you make the radio?'
'Yes.'
Smedly-Taylor thrust away his own fear-sweat. 'I ordered Captain Daven to make it. It's my responsibility. He was following my orders.'
Yoshima glanced at Daven. 'Is this true?'
'No.'
'Who else knows about the radio?'
'No one. It was my idea and I made it. Alone.'
'Please sit down, Captain Daven.' Then Yoshima nodded contemptuously towards Cox, who sat sobbing with terror. 'What's his name?'
'Captain Cox,' Daven said.
'Look at him. Disgusting.'
Daven drew on the cigarette. 'I'm just as afraid as he is.'
'You are in control. You have courage.'
'I'm more afraid than he is.' Daven hobbled awkwardly over to Cox, laboriously sat beside him. 'It's all right, Cox, old boy,' he said compassionately, putting his hand on Cox's shoulder. 'It's all right.' Then he looked up at Yoshima. 'Cox earned the Military Cross at Dunkirk before he was twenty. He's another man now. Constructed by you bastards over three years.'
Yoshima quelled an urge to strike Daven. Before a man, even an enemy, there was a code. He turned to Smedly-Taylor and ordered him to get the six men from the bunks nearest to Daven's, and told him to keep the rest on parade, under guard, until further orders.
The six men stood in front of Yoshima. Only Spence knew of the radio, but he, like all of them, denied the knowledge.
'Pick up the bunk and follow me,' Yoshima ordered.
When Daven groped for his crutch, Yoshima helped him to his feet.
'Thank you,' Daven said.
'Would you like another cigarette?'
'No, thank you.'
Yoshima hesitated. 'I would be honored if you would accept the packet.'
Daven shrugged and took it, then hobbled to his corner and reached down for his iron leg.
Yoshima snapped out a command and one of the Korean guards picked up the leg and helped Daven sit down.
His fingers were steady as he attached the leg, then he stood, picked up his crutches, and stared at them a moment. Then he threw them into the corner of the hut.
He clomped to the bunk and looked at the radio. 'I'm very proud of that,'
he said. He saluted Smedly-Taylor, then moved out of the hut.
The tiny procession wove through the silence of Changi. Yoshima led and timed the speed of the march to Daven's progress. Beside him was Smedly-Taylor. Then came Cox, tear-streamed and oblivious of the tears.
The other two guards waited with the men of Hut Sixteen.
They waited eleven hours.
Smedly-Taylor returned, and the six men returned. Daven and Cox did not return. They remained in the
