The Sanitizer

By Alan Fletcher

The Sanitizer is the code name for a colonel who was in charge of covert operations against the Chinese Communists during the attempted Communist takeover just before Malaya achieved independence. It describes his nonpolitically correct methods of destroying Communist cells.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524641672

Alan Fletcher

The author was a surgeon in the British army during the Communist insurgency in Singapore and Malaya in the mid 1950s. The author later worked as a surgeon on the Fort Peck Sioux Indian reservation. He wrote a book, Sioux Me, and was adopted into the Sioux tribe. More recently, the author specialized in urology in Virginia.

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Chapter 1

Rose Chan was the star attraction at the Great World Amusement Park.

The Great World was rather a grandiloquent name, for although it was the largest amusement park on Singapore island, it could not be ranked in the world class of amusement parks, and although Rose Chan was a good stripper, she was not a world class stripper, certainly not in the same league as a Gypsy Rose Lee.

However, Rose Chan had something working to her advantage that Gypsy Rose Lee did not, even though Singapore was cosmopolitan and a cross roads for world trade, there was a surprisingly prudish atmosphere pervading the city. A Victorian attitude, typified by the municipal park donated to the city by multi- millionaire Aw Boon Haw. He was the inventor of Tiger Balm,an ointment highly regarded in the orient as a cure for everything from arthritic pain to dysentery. He handed over his magnificent gardens, complete with statues, as a park for the city, but before delivery he had to bow to public opinion and have bathing suits painted on all the nude females.

So working in this atmosphere of prudery was a great advantage to Rose Chan, in that whenever she announced she was going to take off her clothes,an announcement that would not have caused a ripple in the waters in other parts of the world, in Singapore she was a tsunami and always drew a large crowd.

She was not remarkably beautiful, just a reasonably good looking Chinese girl with a pleasant disposition, a nice smile and a friendly way of dealing with reporters; this rapport, together with an alleged affair with a high ranking government minister (who himself was reputed to be the half breed illegitimate son of Ramsey McDonald a previous Prime Minister of Great Britain) had given her widespread publicity, notoriety,and a plethora of articles in the Singapore Straits Times which increased her public recognition daily.

On show day, the customary afternoon downpour lasted until after six, a little longer than usual, then, as usual, it stopped as abruptly as it had started. Immediately after the rain, men started gathering in ones and twos in front of the theatre for Rose’s seven o clock performance, until quite a crowd was present. The storm drains were still flowing freely and many men carried the traditional large bamboo umbrellas with their green oiled paper covers, the folded wet surfaces still dripping onto the pavement to join the steaming concrete, as the fierce tropical sun, reappearing as quickly as it had earlier disappeared behind the afternoon rainclouds, beat down again on Singapore, baking the pavement.

There was no orderly queue and in half an hour several hundred men were jostling each other in front of the ticket office. On the whole it was a good humored, bantering, bunch of men speaking in at least four languages. A representative cross section of Singapore’s polyglot population. Malays in their khaki shorts and startlingly white shirts, barefooted or in open toed sandals. Chinese some with pigtails and traditional high collared black jackets but most with short hair and European dress. Bearded Sikhs in turbans of different colors. Hindus with dark eyes and straight coal black hair shiny with coconut oil,their complexions varying from light brown to black depending on from how far south in India and Ceylon they had come. And then there was a good scattering of British National Service Men fresh faced,often sunburned,in their jungle green uniforms,sticking together in clumps, laughing and joking and horsing around like the schoolboys they had been only a year before, excited at the prospect of seeing a show they could not see in a shire town in England,only at the windmill theatre in London where most of them had never been and in any case where they would be younger than the age of admission set by the Lord Chancellor to protect youthful innocence.

It was the ideal crowd to mingle in, to get lost in,to become invisible and to meet somebody without drawing attention to oneself.

In the parking lot of the Great World, two men sat in earnest conversation in an unmarked Fiat 1100 dark gray saloon, the most popular import in a country with no automobile industry of its own,indistinguishable from a hundred other small cars parked nearby.

Both men wore civilian clothes,one was Caucasian the other Chinese.

The Caucasian man sat in the drivers seat. He was about forty,medium height,thick set,auburn hair which was beginning to thin,a face full of freckles which would never tan and a walrus moustache. He would not merge into a crowd. His whole bearing plainly announced Sandhurst Military Academy and if he had been walking across Horse Guards parade in civies, with a bowler hat and an umbrella, he would automatically have been saluted by the sentries at the gate.

It was strange that the head of counter intelligence in Malaya should be so easily recognizable. Maybe it was intended to give the communist underground a false feeling of security. With his walrus moustache, he may have looked like a simple minded soldier, a straightforward regular, an infantry officer or an officer in one of the corps, but he was not. He was very intelligent with a twisted devious mind ideally suited to the world of spies, agents and double agents,he was the colonel in charge of British Intelligence (though sometimes in his private thoughts, he chuckled to himself and thought that appellation was an oxymoron)and he fully intended to infiltrate, undermine,and eradicate the Chinese communist underground in Singapore and Malaya.

The second man was the antithesis of the first. Also of medium build, he was Chinese but with only the slightest increase in the epicanthic folds of his eyes to indicate that he was oriental. Non of his facial characteristics were outstanding,in fact he was ordinary and would be hard to single out in any lineup and his specialty was staying in the background, being unrecognized and unrecognizable. His name was Han Li and he came from a family that had been prominent and wealthy and strong supporters of Chiang Kai Chek. They lost everything when they were driven into exile, with the Generalissimo, to Formosa. Han Li had been an officer in Chiang’s secret police. Now he was still in the Nationalist secret service,infiltrating into expatriot Chinese communities. Although not enamoured of the British, he had joined them in common cause when the Communist Chinese terrorists tried to subvert the Government in Malaya in the early fifties. At which time they caused the government to declare a national emergency. Now he worked in concert with British intelligence under the dictum that ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’.

The colonel pulled a photograph from the glove compartment and showed it to Han Li. This is a long range photo of Cheng. We didn’t want anyone getting too close whom he might spot, because we didn’t want to risk his knowing he was being followed and scaring him into doing a bunk, but I think it shows him well enough.

Han scrutinized the photograph carefully.

You’re sure he’s the right man and you can definitely identify him? asked the Colonel.

Yes,I’m sure. replied Han Li, I worked with him in the war, when the Communists and Nationalists were both fighting the Japanese and not each other, so I got to know him well. Then he was sent to join the guerrillas in the Malay jungle to help organize them to fight the Japanese, but as we now know, he had secret orders from Mao that his long range purpose was to organize anti government activity among the Chinese after the war, after the Japanese were defeated. I know his face well.

Let me ask you a question that is relevant to this operation Colonel, said Han. are you sure that he has had malaria?

Oh yes, said the colonel, we know from our own man, who was with the guerrillas, that he had several attacks of malaria when he was in the jungle and that some of them were severe and prolonged because they didn’t always have quinine available.

Then, said Han Li, I think there is a good chance that your plan will work and that we can snatch him without his friends realizing that he has been arrested, then they will not be aware that he has been interrogated and spilled the beans and they will not become alarmed, we can round up the whole network this time before they become alarmed and have time to disband and disperse.

The colonel rummaged under his seat and pulled out a weapon. It was a larang,an ancient instrument of assassination. It was very simple,an iron cross about eighteen inches long with the cross bar on the cross about three inches from the end. Are you right handed. Han nodded in assent Then roll up your sleeve and hold out your hand.

Han complied and the colonel placed the larang on his forearm with the arms of the cross nestling in the palm of his hand. When Han closed his fingers to grasp the crosspiece the blunt end of the cross protruded about two inches between his fingers underneath his knuckles. The colonel produced some adhesive tape and strapped the main body of the cross to Han’s forearm. Then he pulled down his shirt sleeve. Nothing could be seen of the weapon except the small round iron end protruding from his knuckles.

Keep your hand in your pocket, said the colonel and no one will know the larang is there. You’re job is simple but before you slip into the crowd let’s just go over this one more time.

You merge into the crowd and look for Cheng,I don’t think he would recognize you but keep out of his sight,keep your your hat pulled down over your eyes and wear your sun glasses and then stand as close behind him as you can."

Yes Colonel and while I’m doing that I’ll teach my Grandmother to suck eggs.

It’s not funny Han, lack of attention to details is what fouls up these operations. barked the colonel with some asperity. "When the doors are opened to admit the crowd, there will be a lot of pushing and shoving to get in. Some of the servicemen have been instructed to start a fight at this point which will spread into other members of the crowd. In the confusion you step up to Cheng and punch him hard under his left ribs with the larang. This will rupture his spleen which is chronically enlarged from malaria. When he looks down there will be no bleeding and nothing to see except a small bruise under his ribs. He won’t know he’s been badly injured and think its just part of the roughhousing around. I don’t think any of his group will be present because he is an iron man and doesn’t want them to know he has any weaknesses, especially a weakness for strippers, but even if they are there, it is unlikely that they would suspect anything either.

In about half an hour he will faint from loss of blood due to internal bleeding. Then you start running around making a fuss calling for an ambulance. Our ambulance is waiting round the corner and will be the first one at the scene. They will load him up and drive off and every one will think he was taken ill and not realize that he was picked up by us."

The colonel sat waiting in his car watching the entrance to the theatre. About half an hour after all the audience had finally been admitted,a uniformed usher dashed out to the the red telephone kiosk outside the theatre. He was very agitated and the colonel could hear him yelling into the phone for an ambulance then gradually calming down as the operator was obviously asking for directions and further information.

The colonel lifted his own army walky- talky and spoke to the waiting team,five minutes later the ambulance came round the corner bells ringing and lights flashing. Two Malay men in hospital whites jumped out carrying a stretcher and made their way into the auditorium. Minutes later they came out carrying a figure into the back of the ambulance. A minute or two later Han Li came out,hurried over to the car and got in beside the colonel. Mission successful. he said. and they drove off after the ambulance, though not catching up because they had no official flashing lights.

Cheng was taken not to the Military hospital, but into a small private room in the emergency department of the Singapore General Hospital, again to mislead any prying eyes.

When the colonel entered the room with Han Li close behind, he strode up to the bed.Cheng, he said brusquely, "let’s not waste any time,because there is no time to waste as you will understand in a moment. I know who you are, and you know who I am, so I will not beat about the bush. We are not going to beat you or torture you. The Germans did that and the brave Frenchmen held out for a day or two days by which time their friends in the resistance had figured they were captured and they had time to scatter and get away. I don’t work like that.

You have a ruptured spleen,you will bleed to death in an hour or two if you are not operated on. In very rare cases the blood will clot enough to stop the bleeding, but I am about to give you an injection of heparin which will stop your blood from coagulating, so it is a sure thing you will bleed to death. If you tell me what I want to know, I will give you protamine to counteract the heparin and we will take you immediately to the operating room give you a blood transfusion and remove your spleen."

What do you want to know ? croaked Cheng,

Two things,I want to know the names of all your contacts and I want to know the names of the ring leaders of that mob which dragged two white men and a pregnant woman out of their car two weeks ago and beat them to death.

If I tell you I am dead anyway. They will figure it out and execute me as soon as I leave the hospital.

No, said the colonel I have thought of that. It will be announced that you died on the operating table and you will be buried ostentatiously. Then we will smuggle you to America where you are not known. Our American friends will set you up, give you a good life and you can infiltrate the Chinese communities for them.

I won’t do it. Cheng blustered, gritting his teeth against the pain that was beginning to invade his belly.

Very well. said the colonel and with some ostentation picked up a syringe and a vial of medicine from a bedside surgical tray and drew up some liquid into the cylinder, then with a quick move he plunged the needle into Cheng’s upper arm. I calculate you have about forty five minutes of consciousness to tell me what I want to know,after you become unconscious, we have another half hour when with the protamine and a blood transfusion we might or might not be able to save you. There is a big clock on the wall, watch the minutes tick away and decide what you want to do.

After fifteen minutes of silence broken only by the loud ticking of the clock and some extraneous noises from the adjoining emergency room Cheng gasped, You promise to see me safely out of Singapore!

You have my word I will see you swiftly and safely out of the Great World.

Very well I will tell. said Cheng.

The next day the colonel briefed the general.

I understand you had a very successful round up last night. said the general

"Yes Sir. We got nearly all of them.’

And you fooled any of them that got away by having Cheng die as you planned.

Well yes Sir, but not exactly as was planned. said the colonel with a straight face. Cheng actually died.

You’re not trying to pull this intelligence stuff on me are you colonel? I’m the ranking officer in Singapore and I’m entitled to cut through all this cloak and dagger stuff and know the truth if he’s alive or not.

No Sir, Cheng really did die. There was a malfunction of the elevator carrying him up to the operating room. It was stuck between floors for two hours and by the time they got it working again, it was too late for Cheng.

I don’t understand it,said the general, that elevator has never stuck before.

Well sir I did give my solemn word that I would see him safely out of the Great World.

The general stared at him for a minute, then they both laughed.

Chapter 2

Han Lin propped himself up on his left elbow as he lit a cigarette. He took two or three puffs, then laid the cigarette down in an ash tray which was at hand on a table beside the bed. He watched as the smoke drifted lazily up to the ceiling to be dispersed by the slowly turning ceiling fan.

The fan was slightly off center and on the completion of each revolution, it made a loud noise which turned into a slow beat,a whamp,whamp whamp.

You know Rose, he said you’re going to have to get that fan repaired. I found myself taken over by the rhythm and thrusting in time to the beat.

Rose Chan stood naked, at the bottom of the bed, pouring water from the old fashioned Victorian ewer, which was standing on a marble topped washstand, into a Staffordshire basin covered with blue transfer paintings of eighteenth century bucolic scenes. She was using a flannel and soap to give herself an all over Royal Navy wash down. She towelled herself dry before answering. If we were in a better room than this cheap place, we could have air conditioning and a proper bathroom with a shower.

Han Li picked up his cigarette again. In this area everyone has problems with authority, and everyone minds his own business,its a red light district and they take pains not to notice anything. You know very well, that if we had a flat in a good neighborhood or went to a good hotel,it would only be a short time before you were recognized. All your fans would be annoyed that I was seeing for nothing what they hope to see and they pay good money for the expectation Your receipts would take a nose dive. The press would try to ferret out who I am, and then even if there were a suspicion that you are in some way connected to the secret service, you wouldn’t last very long.

Its a good job you’re a good lover because the pay for the information I provide is not great. said Rose.

That’ s true replied Han Li, but when the British give Singapore it’s independence in a few years, we will be well situated to make a lot of money. The new government will be handing out monopolies to those who know all the dirty little secrets and can keep their mouths shut."

That’s not now. Rose replied rather tartly."

You should be getting extra for Cheng,he was a big fish. How did you know who he was and where we could corner him.

Well, I knew he would never miss a performance. He was really keen on me and wanted to get serious. His tongue was hanging out like a dog in heat and I did a little prick teasing to encourage him, but kept him at arms length. Then he would drink too much and start boasting to seem big in my eyes. For a big wheel he was very indiscreet, he spilled a lot more than he should have and more than he was aware of and I figured out who and what he was. I’m glad you caught him, I don’t think I could have kept him off much longer.

He wouldn’t be the first one you couldn’t keep off, but you always survived and came out with more money. said Han Li.

Yes, she said but he had such bad breath.

Do you have anything else?

There is someone in Kluang, up country in Johore, that it might be worth your while to take a look at.

Ten percent Yang sat in the center of his store room fanning himself, as he silently expressed satisfaction with his life. He observed his reflection in the wall mirror, a middle aged, medium built man with unmistakable Chinese features. His hair line was already receding and he had a struggling, wispy moustache, which he had been cultivating for years without much success, because, like most Chinese, he had little facial hair and shaved infrequently. As he contemplated his image, his round pot belly was the main cause for satisfaction. He did not understand the Western attempts to lose weight, his belly proclaimed to the world that he could eat as much as he liked, whenever he liked. He remembered too well the days of his youth in China, when all his family had flat bellies because they were always on the verge of starvation.

As he wiped the sweat from his forehead, two ceiling fans turned slowly, disturbing the hot Malayan air, but not achieving much cooling. Another Western illusion, that Chinese are accustomed to the heat and don’t sweat much. We sweat alright, he thought, we just don’t complain about it so much.

Li Yuan Yang was well aware of the Ten Per Cent nickname by which the townspeople and the British referred to him, but it didn’t annoy him. In fact it was a matter of pride. He had become the most prominent business man in this small Malaysian town of Kluang in the middle of Johore.

The Chinese admired him for his success, the native Malays were slightly hostile, as they were to all Chinese, and the British looked down on him because he wasn’t British and because they knew he took bribes.

None of the attitudes bothered him. The stuffy British, didn’t they know that bribes oiled the wheels of commerce?Their civil servants were so stupidly honest, he wondered how they had come to rule half the world.

He scanned the Jardine Co. calendar hanging on the wall. JULY 1955. He had done well since 1951, when the ambush of the High Commissioner signaled the start of the emergency. Another stupid Britisher, he thought, killed as he walked away from his Rolls Royce to divert the bullets from his wife, sacrificing his life for a mere woman.

Yang had two wives who were sisters, but one was a secret wife. Two wives were legal for Chinese but would have been frowned upon by the British Army wives, who were his most profitable customers, and two wives might have cost him some business, but nobody objected to a