‘He was in here a good few days before it all happened,’ said George.
‘Yes, of course. I came in a few times to see him. He was in a really bad way.’
‘He was fevered most of the time. He was delirious, you know, mumbling something or the other.’
Tom turned and looked at George. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well, he was ranting and raving about this escape attempt of yours. When you were going to go, who was involved, and he was worried about if you all had enough money, if you would get lost in the jungle, if you would get caught by the Japs. You know, when a man is delirious all his worst fears surface. And Archie must have been really worried about what was planned, because it all came out. Was the Thai to be trusted? Would he bring the map? Oh, there was nothing he didn’t say about it.’
‘Dear God! So you all knew?’
George shrugged. ‘Of course. But you needn’t worry, Tom. Your secret was safe with us. We hear a lot of odd things in here when a man pours his heart out in delirium.’
Tom was silent. It had suddenly occurred to him why Jim Leech had been avoiding him, why he would not work in his area of the hut, why he would not even meet his gaze. This was why. He had overheard Archie’s delirious ramblings, and had used the information to betray them all to the Japanese for a reward. That was how they knew so quickly about their plan, and about where to find Ian and Harry. How else had Leech managed to get new shorts and boots, to keep himself so well-fed and healthy all the time? He even had flesh on his bones and colour in his cheeks. He looked positively chubby compared to most of the men.
Tom felt his muscles flex and his fists clench involuntarily. He vowed that when he was well enough he would find some proof and challenge Leech. And if his suspicions were confirmed, he would kill the filthy little traitor.
Captain Strang came to examine Tom one morning. When he had finished he said, ‘I can’t keep you here much longer, Ellis, I’m afraid. I suggest over the next couple of days you try and walk around the hut a bit. If you go outside, don’t go anywhere near the guardhouse or they’ll punish you for not working. My guess is you’ve had enough punishment for a lifetime.’
‘You bet,’ said Tom grimly.
When he returned to his old quarters the men in his hut treated him like a long-lost brother. Roddy even moved up and made a space for him on the slats. The first thing Tom did was to check that his pack under the bed was still there. The badge that Harry had given him before he left was still there, and into the bag he slipped the flowers from the pomelo tree, which were now shrivelled and brown, and the photograph of Joy.
He found it odd sleeping back amongst his old companions. The bed bugs and mosquitoes were worse here than in the hospital hut, and the men slept closer together. The foetid air was stifling. Tom could not sleep. He lay awake, listening to the heavy breathing and snores of the others and reflecting on what he had been through over the past few weeks.
The next morning, he was up at dawn for roll call, marching through the jungle to the cutting under the scowling supervision of Fat-so once again. Tom was astonished to see the progress that had been made on the cutting. It was fifty yards long now, he reckoned, two great towering slabs of rock flanking the railway bed.
Tom had a new partner for the hammer and tap: Frankie Pace, whose previous companion had died of septicaemia in the hospital the week before. Frankie was silent and brooding, never smiled, and hardly exchanged a word with Tom all day. The time dragged. Tom missed Harry and his ceaseless banter. In his weakened state, the physical challenge of wielding a heavy hammer became almost too much to bear. His muscles and limbs soon ached as before, and all the pains from his previous ailments resurfaced. Sweat poured from his body as he worked. But he was determined not to collapse and give Fat-so the pleasure of beating him.
In the evening, Tom decided to seek out Jim Leech. As soon as he had finished his ration of rice flavoured with greasy soup, he went straight to the hut where the medical orderlies slept.
There was no sign of Leech inside the hut, and nobody seemed to know where he was. They all shook their heads and looked away when his name was mentioned. Like most men in the camp, they were probably afraid of him. Tom walked outside and around the edge of the hut. He found Leech in a little clearing on the side of the hut that bordered the jungle. He was sitting on the stump of a palm tree, a sliced ripe pineapple on another stump in front of him, set beside a flickering candle. He was tucking into one of the slices, juice glistening on his chin. Tom’s breathing quickened with anger, but he stayed where he was, watching. After a few minutes Leech fished inside his shirt and pulled something out. He held it up and peered at it. It was a long silver object that glinted in the moonlight.
‘Leech,’ said Tom, bearing down on him. ‘I want a word with you.’
Leech jumped and looked up at Tom. He tried to shove the object back inside his shirt, but it fell on the ground between them. He stopped chewing, a piece of pineapple poking out from the side of his mouth. He would have made a comical sight if Tom had not been so angry. Leech bent down to pick
