Free QB VII by Leon Uris

to Adam’s opponent, his seven-year-old son, who was giving his father a trimming. The boy shook MacAlister’s hand and Adam shooed him off.
    “The lad plays quite a game.”
    Adam could scarcely conceal his pride in Stephan, who at this early age could read and speak English, Polish, and a smattering of Chinese and Malay.
    After a time they settled on the screened veranda with the ever constant green view of the flowing rivers of Borneo. Their drinks came and soon the new sounds and smells of dusk invaded along with the blessed relief from the heat. Out on the lawn, Stephan played with Terrence Campbell.
    “Cheers,” said MacAlister.
    “Well, Dr. MacAlister, what’s the occasion?” Adam asked with his usual abruptness.
    He laughed vaguely. “Well, Kelno, seems that you’ve made quite a success in Kuching. Governor’s wife’s tonsils, Commissioner of Native Affairs’ hernia, to say nothing of our leading Chinese citizen’s gallstones.”
    Adam waited through the trivia. “Well now, why am I in Bobang, eh?”
    “Yes, why?”
    “To come right out with it, Sir Edgar,” he said in reference to the governor, “and I have charted out an entirely new medical facility for the future of Sarawak. We want to move some of the newer men into meaningful positions as quickly as we are able to put the old-timers out to pasture. We’d like you to transfer to Kuching and take over as chief surgeon of the hospital. I think you’ll agree it’s becoming quite a good facility.”
    Adam drank slowly these days. He took it all in deliberately.
    “Traditionally,” MacAlister continued, “whoever is the chief surgeon is automatically assistant chief medical officer of Sarawak. I say, Kelno, you don’t seem too pleased by all of this.”
    “It sounds very political, and I’m not one much for administrative work.”
    “Don’t be so modest. You were the C.M.O. at the Polish army hospital at Tunbridge Wells.”
    “I never got used to filling out reports and playing politics.”
    “What about Jadwiga?”
    Adam paled a bit
    “We’re not pushing you up past a dozen men in the dark. Nor are we bringing up a past you want to forget, but your responsibilities were for hundreds of thousands of people there. Sir Edgar and I think you’re the best man.”
    “It has taken me five years to get the trust of the Ulus,” Adam said. “With Bintang and his Turahs I have been able to get many projects started and just now we are able to draw comparative results. I have become quite caught up in the problem of malnutrition. A surgeon you can get in Kuching, and the British will never be short of administrators, but I feel that eventually something important may come to light out of my work. You see, Dr. MacAlister, in Jadwiga we had to depend entirely on what the Germans provided us to support life. Here, no matter how bad the land is and no matter how primitive the society, one can always better one’s self, and we are coming close to proving it.”
    “Ummmm, I see. I suppose you’ve considered the fact that Mrs. Kelno would be more comfortable in Kuching. She could pop over to Singapore a few more times a year.”
    “I must say, in all candor, that Angela is as excited about my work as I am.”
    “And the boy? His education?”
    “Angela teaches him daily. I will put him against any boy his age in Kuching.”
    “Then you are quite definite about turning this down.”
    “Shall we let our hair down,” MacAlister said.
    “Of course.”
    “How much of all this is your fear of leaving the jungle?”
    Adam set his drink down and sighed deeply, as MacAlister found him at his source.
    “Kuching is not the middle of London. No one is going to find you there.”
    “The Jews are everywhere. Every one of them is a potential enemy.”
    “Are you going to keep yourself locked up in the jungle for the rest of your life?”
    “I don’t wish to talk about it anymore.” Adam Kelno answered with tiny beads of perspiration breaking out