I held the scroll in my hands and unrolled it. It had only been recently written and I could trace the smell of ink. It came from Fujihara, and my first impulse was to tear it up and burn it. Instead I let one edge of it curl back tightly to meet its opposite end.

I had not heard from him since leaving Penang to warn Kon. He had not been at my sentencing and I could not recall if he was present when my father had been executed. Now he was asking a favor of me and I felt a bright burst of rage. But I opened the scroll again and tried to think.

I was at his house in Scott Road at the time he had requested.

Through the open windows I heard him playing one of his habitual Bach pieces on the piano, the Bechstein piano that I had been ordered to obtain for him. The music was full of horror, part of the terrible things I had been forced to witness, and I wanted to turn around and leave. But I knew I could not weaken now. I called out to him from the veranda.

"Come in," he said without stopping his playing.

I entered and found him in the drawing room, bare of all furniture except the piano. To one side was a reed mat, and two swords, one short and one long, lay on the mat like fish caught on a line.

He finished the piece and a serene look came over his face. He lifted his hands from the keys and closed the piano softly. "Thank you for coming," he said.

He was dressed in a white cotton robe and as he knelt on the mat I asked, "Why have you chosen me to assist you in your suicide?"

"I wanted someone who would be willing to see me die. And you are Endo-san's pupil, so your abilities must be formidable."

I moved toward him and picked up the two swords. He would use the shorter one to pierce his abdomen and then slice it open while I would stand behind him with the long sword, ready to finish the ritual if he wavered, or lost his resolve.

He smiled at me. "Now is your opportunity to appease the spirits of your sister and your aunt." He opened his palm for the short sword.

I held the swords in my hand and said, "I am not going to assist you. Outside are a group of men from the anti-Japanese societies. They will make sure that each and every spirit you have made suffer will be appeased."

He backed away from me, stunned, his eyes taking in the men who now appeared behind me. "You lost the war, Fujihara. But what was worse, you lost your humanity. I will not let your death be an honorable one." I placed the swords on the piano and said to the leader of the group, "Do what you like with him."

The men set about tying up Fujihara and I knew, from their grim but delighted faces that he would suffer much and suffer long.

I paused in the doorway as I left-there was something else. "Burn the piano when you are done," I said to the leader. I knew then that I could never listen to the music of Bach again.

It was bedlam in the consulate offices. I felt only pity as the staff ran about destroying letters, documents, and all incriminating evidence. Endo-san stood away from it all and Hiroshi snapped at him, "What are you doing, standing around? Help us burn these papers."

"What will damn us will not be papers, but the memories of men, Hiroshi-san. And those you can never destroy," Endo-san told him.

Hiroshi, his face made lifeless by his illness, coughed and sat down. "This is all a waste of time, is it not? Is this what we have become, a nation of paper destroyers?"

He got up and leaned heavily on the desk. He opened his drawer and Endo-san said, "Hiroshi-san, you still have your duty. We all have."

But Hiroshi ignored him and put his gun to his temple. The clerks stopped their work. A typist dropped a bundle of documents, which scattered, lining the floor with tiles of arcane patterns.

I turned away and so did not see what happened, but the report of the shot cracked inside my skull and the unexpected smell of blood and death thickened the air in the room.

That night many of the staff followed Hiroshi's example. The rest waited to surrender themselves to the British.

"Do not follow Hiroshi," I said to Endo-san. "Don't do it, please." In his eyes I could see that he wished to, but his strong sense of duty, the necessity of completing his task by handing over the administration of Penang to the returning British, restrained him. But once that was done, what then? What then?

Once again my abilities were required, when the time came to return Penang to the British. The roads were festooned with whatever scraps of decoration the people of Penang could find, and banners trailed from lampposts and street signs. All the trappings of the Japanese Occupation were taken down, burned in pyres that scorched the roads, heat shimmering in the air like departing spirits. The British troops returned to Georgetown and were greeted with shouts of gladness and affection.

I was at the door of the former home of the resident councilor when a small army convoy, three trucks, and what I later learned was a jeep, rumbled up the driveway. A red-faced, hawk-nosed officer jumped out of the jeep and looked at me with suspicion.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked. I did not reply but led him to Endo-san. As we stepped up to the veranda I heard the slam of tailgates and the crunching of boots on gravel. I turned to see a company of British soldiers, bayonets fixed, spilling around the sides of the trucks and then forming into lines on the lawn. These were not at all like the men who had abandoned Penang four years earlier. They wore neat new olive uniforms tailored for the jungle and wide brimmed hats topped with red and white-feathered hackles. Something else was different about them too, and it was not just that they looked fit and healthy and were grinning in triumph. Then it struck me: most of them were younger than I was. I suddenly felt the loss of those four years more keenly than ever before.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Milburn. Fourth Battalion. Royal Northumberland Fusiliers," the officer introduced himself. "We're here to make sure you don't kill the remaining prisoners in your care. General Erskine will sail into Penang harbor in two days' time. You will then formally surrender to him. In the meantime, a guard will stand watch to make sure you don't escape."

"We have no intention of it," Endo-san said in English. "Would you like some tea?"

On the appointed day we waited at the harbor. I looked at the people crowding around us, their faces sapped by the war. A few smiled at me. I felt a lightening gladness and wished my father could have been here.

General Arthur Erskine stepped onto the wooden platform built by the army to replace the destroyed jetty. I studied his well-fed body, his healthy hair and skin, and wondered what he must make of this group of scrawny Japanese who had overrun a British colony.

Endo-san walked up to him and, speaking through me for the benefit of the other Japanese, said, "On behalf of the Emperor of Japan I, Hayato Endo, surrender myself, my people, and the island of Penang to you. And I also hereby release a prisoner of Japan, Mr. Philip Hutton."

I was interpreting his words when I saw Goro push out from the crowd of Japanese. He moved toward us calmly as Endo-san leaned over and signed the document of surrender. I saw him raise his gun and aim it at Endo-san.

"You have brought disgrace to us by surrendering," he said, his small eyes narrowed in rage, almost disappearing into his face.

I leaped toward Goro as he fired and I saw the shots puncture the ground, sending up little puffs of dust. One shot hit Endo-san in his thigh and he grunted in pain. I slammed into Goro and twisted his arm away, but he was faster. He dropped the gun and pulled a knife from his boot. He came in with quick slashing motions and I felt a light sting on my stomach. My shirt had been opened and my skin bled a delicate line.

General Erskine pushed away the troops who had converged to shield him. Lifting a restraining palm, I said, "Please tell your men not to fire."

The next stab happened before I could finish speaking. But I was ready: I allowed the blade to enter my circle and, using my hands in a shearing move, I hit the nerves on the sides of Goro's wrist. His hand went numb and the blade fell away like a rotten twig from a tree. I kicked it out of his reach and grasped Goro's wrist, ready to break it in a kote-gaeshi lock. He kicked out sideways and caught me on the hip. I gritted my teeth and battened down the pain. My hands traveled up his arms like a snake after its prey on a branch and wrenched his elbow, bringing him forward to drive my knee into his face.

He broke away and punched me, catching me twice. The earth spun for a few precious seconds and I staggered drunkenly. I knew I could not afford to let him touch me again but he was relentless. Dust rose up around us as we shuffled our feet, changing stances, adjusting balance, shifting, constantly moving. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Endo-san close his eyes and realized what he was trying to impart to me.

I ceased all movement abruptly, placing myself in the spot where the sea touches the sky. I became the center. I opened up myself. Goro saw the opportunity and swung a hard unstoppable punch into my chest that would certainly have ruptured my heart. But he would never know.

When Goro punched I was already entering to his side and my palm slammed upward into his face and broke his nose. He stumbled to his knees and I circled my arms around his neck, cutting off the flow of air. A deliberate fury overtook me, sharpening my senses, so that I could feel each frantic throb of the pulse in his neck. I wanted to tighten my hold on him, to squeeze until not even a single atom of oxygen could penetrate him. I increased the strength of the lock on his neck and his body jerked with dying spasms, his arms flailing wildly and impotently behind him.

I heard my grandfather's voice saying, as he had the last time I saw him, Do not let hatred control your life. But the pull of my rage was as strong as the treacherous currents of the sea, taking me out further into the deep. I began to add pressure to my grip. I decided then that Goro would die.

At that moment Endo-san spoke and his voice brought me back to the shore. "Let him go."

I released Goro and he folded like a piece of cloth to the ground, his eyes fluttering as the air rushed into the vacuum in his lungs. I breathed with difficulty, my entire body shaking, my vision askew. I felt Endo-san put his arms on my shoulders and the disjointed world focused itself again.

He was bleeding but, for a fleeting moment, his smile made him look young again. "That took too long," he said.

"I shall strive to be quicker the next time," I answered, and for those few moments we were once more merely a sensei and his pupil.

Chapter Nineteen.

Endo-san was taken to the General Hospital where an army doctor removed the bullet from his leg. He slept deeply for the first time in a long while, assisted by ample doses of morphine. I sat by him every day and, to pass the time, I would look at the flowers in the garden of the hospital from the window. Some days it rained and my attention would be mesmerized by the droplets of water trailing down the glass panes.

One evening, when the lights on Penang Hill were beginning to show themselves, General Erskine visited us. He was a stocky man, hair cut short, his face indicative of getting his own way. I heard the creak of boots on the tiles and the guard by the door stood to attention and saluted him.

"We still can't decide whether to arrest you as well or not," he said. "We've received so many conflicting reports. Some say you aided in mass murders, others say you saved entire villages."

"When you make up your mind, I'll be here. I won't be going anywhere," I said in a tired voice. I was uncertain what to feel. The years Endo-san and I had shared seemed like they had been a whole lifetime. I could not believe it would all be over soon.

General Erskine indicated the sleeping figure of Endo-san. "Who is he to you?"

"My teacher and my friend," I said.

"He taught you how to fight like you did at the harbor the other day?"

"Yes," I said.

"Dangerous chap. We're going to make sure he and all his men pay. A War Crimes Tribunal has been set up. He'll be charged as a war criminal," he said.

"I owe him a great deal," I said, looking out through the window as though I had not heard him, which annoyed him.

"He and his kind killed your entire family," he said, then his voice became quiet, but not soft. "I absolutely loathe them. My brother was in Changi Prison. They came up with all sorts of amusing games to torture their prisoners. Now I'm informed that you worked for them. Disgraceful."

"Will you send him back to Tokyo?" I asked.

General Erskine shook his head. "He's not too important in the scheme of things. The tribunal will be convened here."

"Who will be in charge of it? You?"

He nodded with satisfaction. When I looked into his eyes I knew what the outcome would be.

I unlocked the door and let myself into the offices of Hutton & Sons. The damage suffered in the bombings had not been repaired and the entire place had been vandalized by the Japanese staff-chairs broken, paintings slashed. Filing cabinets lay overturned, spilling paper onto the floor. I entered the room where my father had always sat, which was now mine. I found comfort in the little things he had left behind that had not been stolen or destroyed: his letter opener, the spare Trinity College tie he kept in his drawer, the notebook in which he had scribbled down his ideas. I removed all signs of the Japanese administrator and tidied the room as best I could.

The bell rang and I went downstairs and opened the door. A young girl stood on the steps, pale and uncertain. She gathered her courage and her words and spoke in a rush. "I'm looking for work. I'm hardworking and I know how to type-a bit."

"What's your name?"

"Adele."

"Can you start now?"

She smiled with relief as I made my first decision as the owner of my father's company.

I spread the word and, gradually, the old staff returned, bringing with them relatives or friends who were also looking for employment. My past role in the war was never raised openly, but I knew the people of Penang would never forget. Some saw me as a courageous person who had resisted the Japanese as much as he could. To my surprise, I found that this view had a large element of truth to it. Others thought of me with contempt and hatred, telling people of the deaths I had caused. This too had the resounding ring of veracity and I never refuted it.

I worked myself to exhaustion, making hazardous journeys to our plantations and mines. Standing in the sandy, pitted landscape of the tin mines outside Ipoh, I realized I could not fully regenerate my business yet. There was another storm coming. And so when the Communist terrorists started their guerrilla war against the British government we were not unduly affected. We had enough to keep the business afloat, but not so much as to suffer great losses whenever the Communists attacked our mines and rubber plantations. I recalled Kon warning me that these terrorists, who during the war had been allies of the British, would eventually seek the death of every Englishman in Malaya. It was also ironic that the terrorists now adopted the term "running dogs" to refer to the local inhabitants who refused to aid them, who chose instead to assist the British.

I missed Kon. One evening after work I made a visit to his home. I knocked at the gates but no one came to open the doors. I climbed up the outer wall and sat on the top, looking down at my friend's home. It was empty, no lights shone and the great lanterns remained unlit, even though twilight had come. Towkay Yeap had disappeared. I sat on the high walls until the streetlights came on and cast my shadow into the neglected garden, onto the pure white orchids of Towkay Yeap. I took one last look and then jumped down onto the road and made my way home.

I had visited Endo-san regularly over the previous weeks. He was still detained in the General Hospital although his leg was healing well. He continued to bear himself with great dignity. Sometimes we would talk as I wheeled him around the gardens, and sometimes we sat in stillness, watching the movement of the world, listening to the unspoken words between us and finding comfort in them.

One evening he said, "I promised you once that I would tell you everything, why I did all those things."

I held my fingers to my lips and let him know there was no need. "I understand now why you had to work for your country," I said. "You did it because of your father, and your family. Because you loved them."

"As did you," he said.

"It doesn't make it easier."

"No, it does not. But still the attempt must be made."

"Yes. There is no other way. There never has been."

"Are you still practicing?"

"No," I said.

"You must not be lazy."

"I'm waiting to train with you again."

"Then you had better maintain your standards and not waste my time."

He asked me to wheel him to a grove of hibiscus trees. "It is good to be outside, even in this weather," he said. "I could never stay cooped up within walls. You understand that?"

I placed my hand on his shoulder. It seemed a long, long while before I could speak again.

"Yes, I understand," I finally said, wiping a drop of rain from my eye.

"Good. Now, while we are out here every day your lessons shall continue. Go through your footwork exercises and show me how far you have deteriorated."

On the day of Endo-san's judgement I made a ritual of putting on my clothes, feeling the quietness of the house as I left. I drove slowly in the cool dawn, enjoying the light fragrant smell of the dew on the trees that grew along the Tanjung Bungah Road. I parked behind Hutton & Sons and walked to the Esplanade, sitting on the stone breakwater, my legs dangling over the rocks and the sea. Fat, gray pigeons waddled up and down the pavements, pecking for food. Some stalked up to me and when I waved my hands at them they hopped away on a clatter of wings as if affronted by my rudeness.

Just before the clock struck I walked to the courthouse. Although the War Crimes Tribunal was headed by the military, General Erskine had decided to hold the hearing in the High Court building, probably to give a cloak of justice to the proceedings.

A crowd of people had already gathered and they became silent as I passed them. From the first day of the hearing the court clerk had, for a discreet payment, kept me a seat near the front. There I sat, conscious of the eyes upon me. I had no doubt that Endo-san ould be found guilty, for there had been no lack of witnesses; even my own testimony had been torn apart and I had been left looking like a war criminal myself.

The crowd in the public gallery wanted to taste blood and they jeered as Endo-san was brought in. At a quarter past nine, led by General Erskine, the members of the Tribunal appeared and the spectators were silenced.