King Rat

So this time he had failed. He turned to Grey. “You will inform the Camp Commandant that all water bottles are confiscated. They are to be taken up to the guardhouse tonight!”

“Yes, sir,” Grey said. His whole face seemed eyes.

Yoshima realized that by the time the water bottles were taken to the guardhouse the one or ones containing the radio would be buried or hidden. But that didn’t matter—it would make the search easier, for the hiding place would have to be changed, and in the changing eyes would be watching. Who would have thought a radio could be put inside a water bottle?

“Yankee pigs,” he snarled. “You think you’re so clever. So strong. So big. Well, remember. If this war lasts a hundred years we will beat you. Even if you beat the Germans. We can fight on alone. You will never beat us, never. You may kill many of us, but we will kill many more of you. You will never conquer us. Because we are patient and not afraid to die. Even if it takes two hundred years—eventually we will destroy you.”

Then he stormed out.

Brough turned on the King. “You’re supposed to be on the ball and you let the Jap bastard and guards walk into the hut, with all that loot spread around. You need your head examined.”

“Yes, sir. I sure as hell do.”

“And another thing. Where’s the diamond?”

“What diamond, sir?”

Brough sat down. “Colonel Smedly-Taylor called me in and said that Captain Grey had information that you’ve got a diamond ring you’re not supposed to have. You—and Flight Lieutenant Marlowe. Of course, any searching to be done, I’ve got to be present. And I’ve no objection to Captain Grey looking—so long as I’m here. We were just about to high-tail it over here when Yoshima busted in with his guards and started yakking about he was going to search this hut—one of you was supposed to have a radio in a water bottle—how crazy can you get? Grey and I were told to go with him.” Now that the search was over, he thanked God there was no water-bottled radio here, and he knew also that Peter Marlowe and the King were part of the radio detail. Why else would the King pretend that an American water bottle belonged to the Englishman?

“All right,” Brough said to the King, “take your clothes off. You’re going to be searched. And your bunk and your black box.” He turned around. “The rest of you guys keep it quiet and get on with your game.” He glanced back at the King. “Unless you want to hand over the diamond.”

“What diamond, sir?”

As the King began undressing, Brough went over to Peter Marlowe. “Anything I can get you, Pete?” he asked.

“Just some water.”

“Tex,” Brough ordered, “get some water.” Then to Peter Marlowe: “You look terrible, what is it?”

“Just—fever—feel rough.” Peter Marlowe lay back on Tex’s bed and forced a weak smile. “That bloody Jap frightened me to death.”

“Me too.”

Grey went through the King’s clothes and the black box and his shelves and the sack of beans, and the men were astonished when the search failed to uncover the diamond.

“Marlowe!” Grey stood in front of him.

Peter Marlowe’s eyes were bloodshot, and he could hardly see. “Yes?”

“I want to search you.”

“Listen, Grey,” Brough said. “You’re within your rights to search here if I’m here. But you got no authority—”

“It’s all right,” Peter Marlowe said. “I don’t mind. If I—don’t—he’ll only—think … Give me a hand, will you?”

Peter Marlowe took off his sarong and threw it and the inch of money onto a bed.

Grey went through the hems carefully. Angrily, he threw the sarong back. “Where did you get this money?”

“Gambling,” Peter Marlowe said, retrieving his sarong.

“You,” Grey barked at the King. “What about this?” He held up another inch of notes.

“Gambling, sir,” the King said innocently, as he dressed, and Brough hid a smile.

“Where’s the diamond?”

“What diamond? Sir.”

Brough got up and moved down to the poker table. “Looks as though there’s no diamond.”

“Then where did all this money come from?”

“The man says that it’s gambling money. There’s no law against gambling. Of course I don’t approve of gambling either,” he added with a thin smile, his eyes on the King.

“You know that’s not possible!” Grey said.

“It’s not probable, if that’s what you mean,” interrupted Brough. He was sorry for Grey—with his death-bright eyes, his mouth twitching and his hands palsied—sorry for him. “You wanted to search here, and you’ve searched, and there’s no diamond.”

He stopped as Peter Marlowe began to reel towards the door. The King caught him just before he fell.

“Here, I’ll help you,” the King said. “I’d better take him to his hut.”

“You stay here,” said Brough. “Grey, maybe you’d give him a hand.”

“He can drop dead as far as I’m concerned.” Grey’s eyes went to the King. “You too! But not before I’ve caught you. And I will.”

“When you do, I’ll throw the book at him.” Brough glanced at the King. “Right?”

“Yes. Sir.”

Brough glanced back at Grey. “But until you do—or he disobeys my orders—there’s nothing to be done.”

“Then order him to stop black-marketing,” Grey said.