greed — '
'I don't have to take this crap from you,' the King said, and his rage snapped. 'I'm no more a criminal than — '
'Oh but you are. You break the law all the time.'
'The hell I do. Jap law may say — '
'To hell with Jap law. I'm talking about camp law. Camp law says no trading. That's what you do!'
'Prove it!'
'I will in time. You'll make one slip. And then we'll see how you survive along with the rest of us. In my cage. And after my cage, I'll personally see that you're sent to Utram Road!'
The King felt a horror-chill rush into his heart and into his testicles.
'Jesus,' he said tightly. 'You're just the sort of bastard who'd do that!'
'In your case,' Grey said, and there was foam on his lips, 'it'd be a pleasure. The Japs are your friends!'
'Why, you son of a bitch!' The King bunched a hamlike fist and moved towards Grey.
'What's going on here, eh?' Colonel Brant said as he stomped up the steps and entered the hut. He was a small man, barely five feet, and his beard rolled Sikh style under his chin. He carried a swagger cane. His peaked army cap was peakless and all patched with sackcloth; in the center of it, the emblem of a regiment shone like gold, smooth with years of burnishing.
'Nothing — nothing, sir.' Grey waved at the sudden fly-swarm, trying to control his breathing. 'I was just — searching Corporal — '
'Come now, Grey,' Colonel Brant interrupted testily. 'I heard what you said about Utram Road and the Japs. It's perfectly in order to search him and question him, everyone knows that, but there's no reason to threaten or abuse him.' He turned to the King, his forehead beaded with sweat.
'You, Corporal. You should thank your lucky stars I don't report you to Captain Brough for discipline. You should know better than to go around dressed like that. Enough to drive any man out of his mind. Just asking for trouble.'
'Yes, sir,' the King said, outwardly calm but cursing himself inside for losing his temper — just what Grey was trying to make him do.
'Look at my clothes,' Colonel Brant was saying. 'How the hell do you think I feel?'
The King made no reply. He thought, That's your problem, Mac — you look after you, I'm looking after me. The colonel wore only a loincloth, made from half a sarong, knotted around his waist — kiltlike — and under the kilt there was nothing. The King was the only man in Changi who wore underpants. He had six pairs.
'You think I don't envy you your shoes?' Colonel Brant asked irritably.
'When all I've got to wear are these confounded things?' He was wearing regulation slippers — a piece of wood and a canvas band for the instep.
'I don't know, sir,' said the King, with veiled humility, so dear to officer-ear.
'Quite right. Quite right.' Colonel Brant turned to Grey. 'I think you owe him an apology. It's quite wrong to threaten him. We must be fair, eh, Grey?' He wiped more sweat from his face.
It took Grey an enormous effort to stop the curse that quivered his lips. 'I apologize.' The words were low and edged and the King was hard put to keep the smile from his face.
'Very good.' Colonel Brant nodded, then looked at the King. 'All right,' he said, 'you can go. But dressed like that you're asking for trouble! You've only yourself to blame!'
The King saluted smartly. 'Thank you, sir.' He walked out, and once more in the sunshine he breathed easily, and cursed himself again. Jesus, that'd been close. He had nearly hit Grey and that would have been the act of a maniac. To gather himself, he stopped beside the path and lit another cigarette and the many men who passed by saw the cigarette and smelled the aroma.
'Blasted chap,' the colonel said at length, still looking after him and wiping his forehead. Then he turned back to Grey. 'Really, Grey, you just must be out of your mind to provoke him like that.'
'I'm sorry. I - I suppose he — '
'Whatever he is, it certainly isn't like an officer and a gentleman to lose your temper. Bad, very bad, don't you think, eh?'
'Yes, sir.' There was nothing more for Grey to say.
Colonel Brant grunted, then pursed his lips. 'Quite right. Lucky I was passing. Can't have an officer brawling with a common soldier.' He glanced out of the door again, hating the King, wanting his cigarette.
'Blasted man,' he said without looking back at Grey, 'undisciplined. Like the rest of the Americans. Bad lot. Why, they call their officers by their first names!' His eyebrows soared. 'And the officers play cards with the men!
Bless my soul! Worse than the Australians — and they're a shower if there ever was one. Miserable! Not like the Indian Army, what?'
'No. Sir,' Grey said thinly.
Colonel Brant turned quickly. 'I didn't mean - well, Grey, just because — '
He stopped and suddenly his eyes were filled with tears. 'Why, why would they do that?' he said brokenly. 'Why, Grey? I — we all loved them.'
Grey shrugged. But for the apology he would have been compassionate.
The colonel hesitated, then turned and walked out of the hut. His head was bent and silent tears streamed his cheeks.
When Singapore fell in '42, his Sikh soldiers had gone over to the enemy, the Japanese, almost to a man, and they had turned on their English officers. The Sikhs were among the first prison guards over the prisoners of war
