Passage of Arms 1959

Author:Eric Ambler
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-09-29T19:55:16+00:00

III

While they were at breakfast the following morning, the Singapore overseas operator called to say that Mr. Tan was not then in Manila but was expected back that afternoon. Greg placed a call for 4.00 p.m. Manila time.

just as he put the telephone down, it rang again.

“Mr. Nilsen? This is Lane Harvey, American Syndicated Wire Service.”

“Yes?”

“You’re from Wilmington, Delaware, I believe.”

“That’s right.”

“And you have a die-​casting business there?”

“Yes. What’s all this about? The plant hasn’t burned down, has it?”

Mr. Harvey chuckled. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that I’d like to send back a story on you, if you could spare me half an hour sometime today.”

“Well, yes, of course. But, Mr. Harvey, it’s not a very big plant, you know, and I’m not an important man. Mrs. Nilsen and I are just tourists stopping over for a. few days. I don’t want to waste your time.”

“Mr. Nilsen, you wouldn’t be wasting my time. That’s the very reason I want to talk to you. More Americans are travelling now than ever before. New York’s doing a survey of the problems they run into, what they don’t like, what they do like, and so on. We don’t get many stopping over here in Singapore, so if you could spare the time I’d be grateful.”

“Okay, if you think it’s worth it. When do you suggest?”

“Well, let’s see. Are you doing anything for lunch?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why don’t you and Mrs. Nilsen come along to the American Club?”

“Well, that’s very kind of you, but . . .”

“Mr. Nilsen, I’ve got to try and justify my expense account sometimes.”

Greg laughed. ”All right, Mr. Harvey.”

“Twelve-​thirty then? I’ll send the office car for you.”

“We can take a cab.”

“No trouble. The car’ll pick you up at twelve-​thirty.”

Greg gave Dorothy the gist of the conversation.

“Isn’t it a bit unusual?” she said. “Why doesn’t he just come over here?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps that’s the way they like to do things in Singapore.”

Lane Harvey was a balding man of about forty with an unhealthy complexion and sleepy eyes. He spoke slowly and carefully, as if he were under some pressure that he was striving to ignore, or as if he were listening all the time to the voice of a doctor telling him to relax or suffer the consequences.

“For a wire service man,” he said, “this place is Siberia. Politically South-​East Asia is one of the most important areas in the world. In Viet-​Nam, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, Sumatra, Java, the Islands, everywhere around, there’s history being made. But all around. Not in Singapore. We’re in the eye of the storm here.”

“So all you have to do is interview American tourists,” said Dorothy. “It’s a shame.”

Lane Harvey smiled. “I’ll tell you a secret, Mrs. Nilsen. It’s more comfortable here than those other places, and I like being comfortable. But an American correspondent who doesn’t wail for the dangers and discomforts of the battle-​front is guilty of unprofessional conduct.” He signalled to the waiter for another round of drinks. “Now tell me about your trip.

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