Singapore 52

by Bailey, Murray

  The woman spoke in barely a whisper and smiled.

  He whispered back, “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

  She beckoned and he leaned in through the window. Immediately, his senses were assailed by an alluring perfume. He noticed she had long, elegantly crossed legs.

  She saw him look and adjusted her cheongsam, so that it revealed less, and then leaned towards him. “He’s asleep,” she whispered.

  “Are you all right?”

  She smiled and slid back away from the door. “I’m a little bored.” She raised her head. “Won’t you come in and entertain me for a while?”

  Whiteside took a deep breath. He glanced up and down the street. There was absolutely no one around. What could it hurt? At least I’ll stay awake, he decided and opened the door. He slid in, next to the pretty lady.

  She adjusted her position and the slit showed more of her leg again. “We’ll have to be very quiet,” she whispered close to his ear and giggled lightly.

  He smiled back, a little awkward.

  “So, what’s your name, soldier?”

  “Peter… Pete. I’m nineteen. What about you?”

  “Oh a little older.” She laughed quietly. “You can call me Mum if you like. Her hand followed her gaze and she touched his hair. “Nice—” she said, looking him up and down “—all of you.”

  “You’re pretty smashing yourself.”

  Her hand moved from his hair, lightly down his face and onto his chest.

  Her own chest swelled slightly as she touched him. She smiled as his eyes bulged. “You can touch them if you like.”

  Whiteside placed a hand on a breast and felt its firmness.

  She pulled at his shirt and the next moment she was sitting astride him and moved her mouth lightly over his. As Whiteside responded, she kissed him hungrily before probing his ear with her moist, warm tongue.

  She whispered, “I have something to relax you.”

  He blinked, not understanding.

  “I have some pills.”

  But before he could respond, she abruptly pushed on his chest and scrambled off.

  “What—?” he started to say but then realized her face was lit up, the interior of the car was lit. A vehicle had pulled up behind them, its headlights bright through the window.

  She said something but all he could hear was the jackhammer of his heart and his ragged breaths.

  The car behind was a Land Rover. MPs. Maybe even SIB. Buggeration!

  He squirmed for the door and got out. He didn’t register that her driver was now awake and starting the engine.

  He glanced in, his mind whirring trying to think of a reason for getting in her car. The men behind must have seen him.

  He leaned in. “Glad to be of assistance, Miss.”

  She smiled. “Friday night,” she said. “Meet me at the end of Bugis Street at eleven and I’ll show you a good time, my pretty soldier-boy.”

  His jaw ached from kissing, but the grin on his face stayed with him until morning.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  As soon as I saw the Union Flag hanging limply at half-mast, I knew there was bad news. It was the seventh of February.

  “Have you heard the news?” the desk clerk said as I entered.

  And then Hegarty appeared holding a newspaper and said, “It’s the King. King George is dead!”

  He handed me a black armband and I noticed he was already wearing one.

  “What happened?” I said.

  “He died in his sleep on the sixth so we’re a day late with the news. Fifty-six and died of a blood clot in the heart. Out shooting at Sandringham the day before. He was still very active. Did you know he had lung cancer? Even though he’d been ill, it was still a shock. And Churchill said—”

  I was half listening and half glancing through the overnight incident reports.

  “Stop!” I said, holding up both hands.

  “But this is—”

  “Dreadful news but I’ll read the detail later. For now we have something much more immediate.”

  I spun a report round so that he could read it.

  “Get me Corporal Whiteside. It may be a black day but we might have had a near miss with Madam Butterfly.”

  Peter Whiteside, with boyish charm and as nervous as hell, stood to attention. Robshaw and I sat at the desk in the office. Hegarty stood behind, a serious look on his face.

  “So let me get this right, Corporal,” Robshaw said. “Last night you were on duty at the Bras Basah HQ. You fell asleep at the desk. When you woke up there was a limo parked at the kerb. You didn’t see it arrive, but you could see a driver asleep at the wheel.”

  “Yes, sir,” Whiteside said, his voice betraying his concern.

  “Go on.”

  “There was a woman in the back. She was a looker, if you know what I mean? The window was down and she was leaning out. I think she had been calling to me—that’s what woke me up.” He swallowed after admitting again that he had been asleep on the job. “I left the desk and went over to the car. As I approached she moved back into the car so that I had to lean in to speak to her. I asked if everything was all right. She asked me to open the door and get in. I did.”

  Hegarty couldn’t contain himself anymore and spluttered, “What were you thinking of, man? Why did you just get in?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I was a bit mesmerized by her. She was amazing—probably no definitely the best looking woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Was she Eurasian?”

  “Maybe. She was tall—well at least I know she had long legs, and Oriental looking, but I’m not an expert on nationalities.”

  “All right,” I said, “what happened next?”

  “She patted the seat next to her and I sat. She leaned towards me. It was like I was under a spell. I was mesmerized, I guess. The next thing I was kissing her.”

  Hegarty asked, “Did she say anything?”

  “She wanted to know my name and my age. She said she was older and I could call her Mum.”

  “Mum?” Robshaw said. “That’s new information.”

  “How old did she look?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I suppose she was early twenties, but you know how hard it is to tell with these Chinese-types. She could have been older.”

  Robshaw said, “But not old enough to be your mum?”

  Whiteside laughed uncomfortably. “No, sir.”

  That didn’t surprise me. I suspected the name was to put him at ease. She was probably used to comforting soldiers and could easily have called herself Nan or maybe Nurse.

  “Please continue.”

  Whiteside swallowed, clearly very uncomfortable. “It’s in my report, sir.”

  “I’d like to hear it from you.”

  Whiteside still didn’t speak.

  “Soldier, you had better be frank,” Hegarty prompted him. “You are in enough trouble already.”

  I raised a quieting hand to the sergeant and said, “Listen, Whiteside, we all make mistakes. I’d much rather catch a criminal than demote you for a misdemeanour. OK?”

  “OK.”

  “So you were in the car. What happened next?”

  Whiteside looked as though he was trying to decide how to explain. Eventually he said, “We fooled around a bit.”

  “Physical contact?” Hegarty asked.

  “Yes, sir. Smooching and caressing, that sort of thing.”

  “Any penetration?” Hegarty pursued, seemingly undeterred by the young soldier’s evident embarrassment.

  “No, sir, it didn’t go that far.”

  I asked, “Is there anything else, we should know?”

  “She offered me a pill. That’s what made me think afterwards.”

  “What sort of pill?”

  “I don’t know. Said it would relax me.”

  “So how did it end?”

  “One of our patrols turned up. Interrupted us. I jumped out sharpish.”

  Hegarty raised his thick eyebrows. “So that’s why you
reported it. Because if you hadn’t someone else would have.”

  “Yes.”

  I said, “So what happened to the woman?”

  “Her chauffeur drove off.”

  “I thought you said he was asleep.”

  Robshaw said, “Must have been faking it.”

  I nodded. “Did she say anything else?”

  Whiteside looked uncomfortable again.

  I prompted, “What did she say?”

  “That she’d meet me tomorrow night.”

  That was more new information not included in Whiteside’s written report.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “She told me she would be at the end of Bugis Street on Friday at twenty-three hundred hours.”

  “Jesus!” Hegarty said. “I hope you didn’t hold that back because you plan to see her, Whiteside!”

  Before the lad could answer, I said, “Did you see a tattoo?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Madam Butterfly is believed to have the tattoo of a butterfly on her hip or groin area. Did you see it?”

  “Sorry, sir. I didn’t think to look.”

  “Cast your mind back,” I said. “Picture yourself in the car with her. Try and visualize her and look for a tattoo.”

  After closing his eyes for a moment, he said, “It’s no good. She had a mark on her breast. I couldn’t quite see it, it might have been a small tattoo or it might have been a mole.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I was so taken in by her that it wasn’t until I was talking with some of the lads that it dawned on me who she might be.” He was clearly shaken. “I’ve had a close shave haven’t I, sir?”

  Hegarty said, “And yet you were thinking of meeting her tonight.”

  Whiteside looked on the verge of tears. “I don’t know. Maybe she wasn’t Madam Butterfly. I don’t know. I just… I was thinking I’d be careful. Not take much money, that sort of thing.”

  I looked at Robshaw and could see we were thinking the same thing. I said, “Whiteside, I want you to make that rendezvous.”

  “But—” Whiteside began.

  “But,” I continued, “we’ll be there to pick her up. You all right with that?”

  “Yes, sir. I guess,” he said and looked from me to Robshaw and back. “Will I be put on a charge?”

  “Maybe. Maybe it’ll depend on how it goes tomorrow night.”

  Robshaw dismissed him and once the corporal was out of the room, Hegarty asked me, “So do you think it was her?”

  “Right MO. I think we just got lucky, very lucky.”

  Later Hegarty asked if I’d had any more thoughts about Cooke’s notebook. I hadn’t told him about getting Pantelis’s ledgers and I was going to deny it if confronted by Major Vernon. But, as the morning wore on, I reckoned one of two things had happened. Either Pantelis didn’t know who’d been in the depot last night or was too afraid I had evidence against him.

  I decided to head over to Tanglin and asked Hegarty to drive me.

  We found Sergeant Major Sinclair in his office. He still wasn’t overly friendly and tiredness pulled at the corner of his eyes.

  “A little news of your sergeant,” I said.

  “I heard you found his kitbag up at Woodlands.”

  “It looks like he went into the water. Maybe he swam, but more likely he caught a boat.”

  “And yet you found his bag.”

  I shrugged, “I agree it doesn’t look good.”

  He nodded and pulled a pile of paperwork in front of himself as if letting me know the meeting was over.

  “All the arms come through Tanglin Barracks via Keppel Harbour, right?” I’d checked with the armoury at Gillman and they’d told me their guns came from Tanglin.

  “Easier to control that way.”

  I nodded. “Where at Keppel are they kept? We were there a few days ago and I couldn’t see an armoury.”

  “That’s because the secure stuff is over on the island.”

  “The island?”

  “Blakang Mati,” he said. “It’s the large island opposite Keppel. The navy have a secure area there so that’s where you’ll find the arms.”

  I nodded. So that’s why I’d seen nothing in the Stores Depot. It was also why Pantelis wasn’t trading in anything from the armoury. Although I still didn’t know what omega-delta meant.

  “Would it surprise you to hear that Cooke was trading goods on the black market.”

  Sinclair bristled but kept it in check. “Yes, it would,” he said.

  “Well, we have proof.”

  Sinclair shook his head in disbelief.

  I said, “Does omega-delta mean anything to you?”

  “No. Should it?”

  “You are so sure you run a clean ship here.”

  “I am.”

  “How is that? How can you be so sure?”

  “Everything is checked in and checked out and reconciled.”

  “But wouldn’t all QMs say that?”

  “Maybe but I know it’s true. Mainly because it wasn’t the case before I got here.”

  “Eight months ago.”

  “Yes. Eight months ago. I did a complete stock check. Everything from bolts to biscuits. I made sure everything was counted. I also made sure we identified all the obsolete stock and got rid of it.”

  “Obsolete stock?”

  “There was some pre-war stuff, but also broken items in the stores. One way of gaining control over what you have is to clean up what’s there. So, from day one, eight months ago we started afresh.”

  Hegarty said, “So how come Cooke was trading?”

  Sinclair kept his attention on me and shook his head, like he was saying it didn’t make sense.

  After a moment’s thought he said, “Earlier, you mentioned evidence.”

  I handed Cooke’s notebook over.

  Sinclair turned the pages slowly and shook his head again. “I don’t believe it.”

  “What don’t you believe?” Hegarty said, leaning forward, hands on the quartermaster’s desk. “That’s a sales ledger. Clear as day.”

  Sinclair handed the book back to me. “I agree,” he said, “but you’re overlooking one thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “That’s not Sergeant Cooke’s handwriting.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  No one spoke for a moment. Did it matter that the evidence of black market trading wasn’t in Cooke’s handwriting? I wondered whether Sinclair could be mistaken. After all, the records were mostly dates and numbers. The only writing was in Greek—the letter combinations that tallied with Pantelis’s own notebook.

  We asked Sinclair if he recognized the handwriting at all. Maybe it was one of the other men who worked in the stores?

  The QM was emphatic. It didn’t belong to one of his men. He also pulled out Cooke’s written request for a pass—the one his superior had turned down. I had to agree the writing was different and I should have spotted it straight off.

  Left-handed people write awkwardly. And being left-handed, I should know. With practice, it becomes natural, but it’s like writing backwards with your hand curled round to compensate. The style in the notebook was obvious. Left-handed. The writing on the pass request was not.

  “Telephone message,” a voice shouted as we walked back to the jeep. “Captain Carter, there’s a telephone message.”

  Here we go, I thought. It’ll be Vernon complaining about last night.

  I took the yellow slip off the clerk and read it in trepidation. But it wasn’t from the major. It was a personal message from Su Ling.

  Important news. Meet me for lunch darling? Haw Par at 1? Kisses SL

  Hegarty looked over my shoulder and chuckled. “Getting serious, Boss?”

  I checked my watch and swung into the jeep. “Just drive, Hedge.”

  “Back to Gillman?” he said, “Or early for your date?”

  I didn’t rise to his bating and just said, “Gillman.” There was over an hour before the appointment which would give me time
to go through the ledgers again.

  We sat in silence until we were going through the centre. When Hegarty spoke, it was serious this time.

  He said, “If you don’t mind me saying… it’s probably best you don’t communicate by phone messages.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Vernon.”

  I still didn’t understand.

  He said, “The major doesn’t just see all the incident reports, he also sees all the written comms. That slip you just got was carbonated. Vernon gets the white copy and files it in his office. That tall thin metal one with all the drawers. It’s his pride and joy. Anyway if there’s anything personal you don’t want him poking his nose into, I suggest your girl doesn’t leave messages that he can see.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said. Vernon had all communications in his office. That fact seemed to resonate with something but I couldn’t quite grasp its relevance.

  When we arrived back, I said I was going to my room for a lie down. I suspected he didn’t believe me. I couldn’t tell him the truth. If I did, he’d know I had Pantelis’s ledgers.

  I locked my door, got out the books and went through them line by line. I found plenty of transactions of munitions and weapons and realized there was a location code. BM for Blakang Mati, KS for Keppel Stores, I guessed. Items either came into the island or to the harbour and then out to Tanglin or the naval base. The figures reconciled with closing stock. As before, I still couldn’t see anything in Pantelis’s black book linking his trade to guns. Of course, I didn’t have all the paperwork but all the movements in the ledgers looked genuine even when I cross-referenced items in the black book. Either Pantelis was faking the movements or the items weren’t going through the official ledgers in the first place.

  I opened the ledger showing movements eight months ago and looked for the transfer of the obsolete items from Tanglin to Keppel. Nothing.

  I went through a month either side and found a handful of returned items. The most significant were eighty shovels with faulty handles. They came into Keppel from Tanglin but had a BM code. So they’d been taken to the island and were presumably still there. Probably waiting for a supply ship to take them back home. Or maybe to be destroyed. That was how most QM scams worked: mark something to be destroyed but keep it to sell later.