Free Charlie Martz and Other Stories by Elmore Leonard Page A

Mitch, you’re the C.O., you know . . .”
    Ah Min shook her head very faintly, thinking, the most important thing in his life is a badminton contest. That followed closely by drinking Scotch whiskey stengahs (which she assumed must be one of his habits), or just sitting with his feet up and doing nothing.
    It was some moments before she realized Clad had rung off.
    Tam Lee came late that night, though not the way she expected he would.
    There was no sound. She opened her eyes in the darkness feeling someone close to her sleeping mat, and as she stirred, a hand closed dimly over her mouth. She was pulled to her feet; a gun barrel pressed into her back, yet there were still no sounds; none from her aunt in the next room, not even of footsteps as they left the house, keeping close to the shadows, or as they darted across the open yard to enter first the scrub brush then the tangled, clawing darkness of the jungle.
    They moved hurriedly, one man in front, one behind, and nowthere were swishing, rustling sounds and after minutes of this she heard the in-and-out gasps of her breathing. But no one spoke; not during the entire half hour of their travel, not until they had stopped in a clearing and stood listening for perhaps a full minute. Then one of the men cleared his throat, a short grunt of a sound, and said, “We have her.”
    They came into the clearing from three sides, a dozen men, no more than that; all of them heavily armed, all of them looking at Ah Min. She watched them, her gaze moving carefully from one to the next, then stopped.
    â€œTam—”
    He was hatless, in plain, faded khaki, a carbine under his left arm pointed to the ground; but now, as Ah Min moved toward him, the barrel rose abruptly.
    â€œTam?”
    â€œSay what you have to say.”
    She hesitated. “You don’t trust me?”
    â€œI have no reason to.”
    â€œNo reason!” She paused to let her tone become quiet again. “After the months we were together?”
    â€œYou’ve been to Taiping since then,” Tam Lee said flatly.
    â€œDo you think I wanted to go there?”
    â€œPeople come out of Taiping with our cause washed from their minds.”
    â€œI thought only of you,” Ah Min said quietly.
    â€œAnd now you work for the police.”
    â€œIn the office of the police. There is a difference.” She had sensed the change in him, the holding back, the distrust; just as she knew his face was more drawn, starkly hollowed and impassive now, even though she could not see him clearly in the darkness.
    â€œDo you think I inform on you?”
    It was then, when Tam Lee said nothing but continued to stareat her, that she became afraid and could feel even the presence of fear inside her body. But don’t show it, she thought. Or cry or scream or run or try to hide—
    Quietly, continuing in the Hokkien dialect they were using, she said, “Would I send you the message of the villages if I worked for them?”
    â€œFifteen villages, each one with its police officer gone for the day.” For a moment Tam Lee seemed to smile. “They make it inviting, don’t they? ‘Take your pick,’ they’re saying. ‘Look, it’s Sunday and no one is alert. The Malay policemen sleep or visit friends because the head one is at Ladang.’”
    Ah Min watched him. “Well?”
    â€œBut they wait with grenades and heavy weapons,” Tam Lee said. “One or more of the fifteen could be raided, so all will be ready.”
    Now the girl frowned. “They want you to attack?”
    â€œTo show ourselves. A plan to draw us out.”
    â€œBut why assume that?”
    â€œI assume nothing. Our source in Kuala Lumpur warned us weeks ago. It was the idea of the man you work for. They put it in the newspaper so it would look authentic. ‘But how do we make certain they know about it?’ someone asks. And this man you work for says, ‘I send