“The cook?”
“And security. His name is Aiko. He’s a really bad guy.”
“You traded with him?”
“Me? No, never! But if Cooke was trading with someone there then he’ll be your go-between.” Pantelis looked past me again and I suspected it was a tactic he’d developed. Perhaps it worked to unnerve junior men, but to me he just seemed distracted. He continued: “We do have a deal, don’t we?”
I straightened. “If your information helps.”
“Helps?” But before I could respond, he looked past me again and said, “Who’s that?”
“Who?”
“Your colleague at the table by the door. Is he part of this?”
I spun around and spotted him immediately: the German guy—the barfly from Goodwood Park.
“What the hell?”
FORTY-TWO
Everyone suddenly seemed to be in my way. When I reached the table by the door, the German was gone. Then I spotted him outside, hurrying away. I squeezed through the door as another young lady came in, and then pushed through the bodies in the direction I’d seen him go. After a few yards I stopped and scanned left and right, looking for someone who stood out, someone running maybe. But I saw nothing. The German had blended into the crowd.
I checked my watch and knew I only had a few minutes. Su Ling would be waiting for me at Floating Pier.
Cutting across town towards Fullerton Square, I struck lucky. A two man MP patrol was checking a bar for drunken soldiers.
“Go to the police station and ask for Inspector Rahman,” I instructed them. “Tell him to pick up a guy called Aiko from the House of Tokyo. Tell him it’s connected to the security issue.”
The two young men hurried off with my message and I continued to the pier.
She had been sitting inside the Bentley and climbed out of the rear as I approached. She was wearing a white cheongsam with gold embroidery. Her matching high heels made her almost as tall as me.
“You look sensational,” I said and kissed her cheek.
“And you’re in a good suit. My, my, Ash Carter, you do look dashing. Now, I’m intrigued about what you have arranged.”
I pointed to the Japanese junk tied up to the pier. “A little boat ride,” I said, relieved to see that the water was calm tonight. “And a meal on board if that’s meets with your approval.”
She clapped her hands and gave me a smile that could have started a Trojan war. We approached the boat along the wooden pier and she linked her arm through mine. When the boards moved beneath our feet, she held on tightly.
“How exciting,” she said as we were welcomed aboard by a man in a traditional kimono. He showed us where to sit, amidships and, within a matter of minutes, the giant sails were filled and we cast off, sliding away from shore into the darkness.
The creak and moan of ancient timbers added to the sense of power the sengoku-bune exuded. We didn’t seem to travel fast and yet it felt like we were riding the back of a huge beast, restrained from taking flight.
We followed the coast east and then looped around and hugged the coast back again until we reached the water opposite the Padang. The sails were tied and the anchor dropped.
“This is wonderful,” she said as we watched the activity of the fair, the lights reflecting golds, yellows and reds across the still water.
And when a table was set in front of us by a tiny Japanese waiter she laughed with joy again and said, “I see you are romantic after all, Ash.”
I had requested a Japanese meal and Pope had happily obliged. The food was cold and alien to my palate, but Su Ling was in paradise. The tiny Japanese waiter poured some more sake in our glasses and slipped discretely back into the shadows.
We watched fireworks and then the activity on the Padang rapidly died.
She said, “I’m chilly.”
It was pleasantly cool, not chilly, and I got the message. I moved closer and put my arm around her. She responded by pressing up against me. It felt good. Very good. Her hair was close to my face.
“I love your perfume, may I ask…?”
“An essence of ylang ylang,” she said, “I have it privately made. I’m glad you like it.”
We were looking into each other when she surprised me by saying, “You have lovely grey eyes.”
I smiled since I had been thinking something similar. “When we first met, I thought your eyes were green, but they’re a rich brown now… which I like,” I added quickly.
“Oh,” she looked a little embarrassed. “I’ve been told that my eyes change colour, that they reflect my mood. I’m not sure how it can be true but when I’m happy they appear more brown.”
The scientist in me said it was about relative pupil and iris size but I kept my theory to myself.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company and watching the embers of activity on the quay. She had been deep in thought. When she spoke she said, “Tell me a happy story about when you were a child.”
“You first. It’ll give me chance to think of something.”
“Oh, all right. My favourite time was at ballet. I danced from a very early age until I was twelve. I thought I would be a famous ballerina one day. But, as you can see, I grew too tall and, of course, the war happened.”
“I should have guessed you trained as a dancer from the way you walk. You have grace and poise.”
“And you are a charmer!”
“That may be true, but you haven’t told me the story.”
“Well it was just generally when I was dancing, but there was a special day that I recall as though it were just a short time ago. We were putting on the Nutcracker Suite at the town hall. I was Clara—my parents were so proud. They sat in the front row and looked so happy for me. Of course it was only an amateur production, but that didn’t matter. I remember my father’s beaming face and his loud cheer. He was so smart in his uniform.”
“Was he British Army? What was his name?”
“Captain Keith. So he was like you. Only he had a big moustache and was much, much older!” The happy expression suddenly vanished and she had a faraway look. “He died in the first few days of the battle.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s all right,” she said, seemed to shake the melancholy from her head and gave me a warm smile. “It was a long time ago. And my uncle made sure Mother and I were all right.”
“I can tell you my first memory. I must have been less than three. It had snowed—that perfect crisp snow that crunches under your feet. I was wrapped up snugly—I remember a hood that was padded with wool. I felt warm and secure. It was very early morning and I was in the garden alone. Although I wasn’t really. I remember turning and being surprised that my mother was watching.” I stopped for a moment and then said, “For a while I felt like I was the only one in the world.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Funny it was just a moment in time, a captured memory for some reason. I recall a wooden stool. It was upside down and I pushed it. I think it was a struggle because I used it to lean on and the more I leaned on it, the more it dug into the snow.”
“I’ve never seen snow.”
“It can be beautiful, but then it turns brown and mushy and you get wet.”
She flicked at my chest with the back of her hands. “Oh you’ve just ruined a beautiful image.”
“We should be getting back.” I waved to our Japanese host and pointed to the quay.
As we got underway, she said, “How is the investigation going?”
“To be honest I feel like I’m pushing that stool in the snow. The more I push, the more difficult it seems to get.”
FORTY-THREE
On Floating Pier once more, we walked arm in arm across the boards. As we reached the end, her heel stuck and she yelped. I tried to steady her, but in her panic she pushed me off balance and I toppled over the side.
The drop was less than two feet and I was soon back on the pier
. The horrified expression on her face evaporated when I started laughing. I shook myself like a dog, working from my head to my feet and then we were both laughing uncontrollably.
As we reached the road, her driver stepped out of the Bentley but she waved him away.
“Come on,” she said between gasps, “let’s get you sorted.” And with that she took my hand and ran.
We didn’t stop until we reached the lights and bustle of Chinatown. “You know, we call this Bu Ye Tian,” she said. “It means: the place of the nightless days. That’s because Chinatown never sleeps. Why sleep when there is work to be done and money to be won?”
I’d been in Chinatown a few times, but she led me into an area I hadn’t seen before. This wasn’t party-lively like Bugis Street and the area around The Red Lion pub. This was different. This was the heart of Chinatown and people were busy about their normal business, like they would during the day. I smelled raw fish and cooking fat. A woman tried to sell us homemade cakes.
“Kueh! Kueh kara kara!” she jabbered at me until Su Ling snapped at her and the woman scurried away.
Red lanterns hung everywhere, their glow adding extra warmth to the night. Suddenly she stopped.
“Here.”
Without asking, she led me into a clothes shop. It was after one in the morning but the store was busy with customers, shop assistants and other staff working towards the rear.
She pulled a silk suit from a rack and said, “Get out of your wet clothes.”
I was shown a cubicle and a curtain was pulled across. Once I had swapped my wet suit for the silks, I pulled back the curtain and Su Ling clapped her hands together with glee.
“I look ridiculous, don’t I?”
“Yes.” She laughed and held out a pair of black slippers. “Take off your shoes and socks and put these on.”
I put on the thin slippers. Normally I would have felt self-conscious and foolish dressed like this but every male around me was dressed in a similar fashion. OK, I was white and taller but I didn’t look out of place.
Su Ling picked up my clothes and handed them to the shop keeper. When she gave him an instruction he bowed. She turned back to me.
“He’ll dry your clothes and we can pick them up tomorrow.”
“We? Tomorrow?” I said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Tomorrow,” she said with the flash of an innocent smile.
Then she took me outside and we walked a hundred yards to an ornate building. It had the usual lanterns and banners and a green tiled roof with dancing dragons along the ridge.
“This is where I live,” she said.
Inside, the place looked like a restaurant with cloth-covered tables and people sitting around them. It was smoke-filled and had a strange aroma, one that I hadn’t smelled before. My face obviously asked a question.
She said, “I obviously don’t live down here. I have one of the rooms upstairs.”
As we moved forward, I became aware of a clackerty-clack and saw that, on each table, the men were playing games.
“Mah-jong,” Su Ling explained and we stood over a table watching the frenetic activity. Although many crowded round, there were only four men playing per table. The rest were encouraging and betting loudly. We watched for a few minutes. I could see it was highly strategic with considerable money being passed around and wagered.
We moved on and I saw other tables where men played cards. This was more my game but again I didn’t recognize it.
“It’s called Fantail,” she said and again I could see it involved a great deal of gambling. Both by the players and those watching. Before I could study it for too long, she pulled me away, explaining that the players were very sensitive to outsiders watching them.
With small glasses of rice wine in our hands, she toasted me and knocked it back. I copied her and the rough liquid burned my throat.
Our glasses were immediately refilled and after another shot, I realized I was becoming light-headed.
“What is this smoke?”
Through the mist I could see people at the back, lying on sofas. They had long pipes with a small bowl on the end. Occasionally they leaned over to heat the bowl over a candle. “Is this an opium den?”
“No silly. It’s mostly tobacco. And this is definitely not a den.”
I knew the majority of the mah-jong players were smoking cigarettes, but the people lounging at the back appeared to be smoking something other than tobacco. I wondered briefly whether this was the sort of club that Madam Butterfly would come to, but then mocked myself for the thought. Of course she wouldn’t come here; this was a Chinese club not one where she could pick up a soldier or sailor. I was a rare guest here.
More wine was freely poured and we drank and ate dim sum brought to us on trays. She took me over to a sofa and we sat looking into each other’s eyes.
After a while, in an understanding voice, she said “You have some sadness. I saw it briefly when you told me your first memory. Something about your mother?”
“She died.” I paused and wondered what else to say. Of course she’d understand because she’d lost her father in the war.
But she didn’t say that. Somehow she seemed to read me and said, “You blame your father, is that it?”
“He didn’t have time for her—or me. He was part responsible for a bombing raid in the war it caused a firestorm killing countless thousands.”
“He dropped the bombs?”
“As good as. He was a strategist. Forget the civilian cost, the end justified the means… and I disagree. My mother’s family came from near Dresden—way back. She didn’t know anyone there but it didn’t change the fact she saw it as a war crime.” I found it hard to talk about and it felt like a garrotte round my throat. But I swallowed and continued: “She was horrified and it drove a wedge between them. I sided with her. She died a year later.”
Su Ling studied my eyes and I guessed she could read that my mother hadn’t simply died. She’d taken her own life. I blamed my father for the murder of thousands. And I blamed him for the effective murder of my mother.
“Were you with her?”
And there it was, the big reason why I felt so bad. The big reason why I blamed my father for her death. It was because I blamed myself. I’d been at university and I could have been with her. I could have given her the support she needed.
Su Ling touched my cheek and I was surprised it was wet.
I said, “I’m sorry.” Here I was with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, having the best evening of my life. And now I was ruining it.
She stood and took my hand. “Come on, Captain Ash Carter. Let’s go upstairs. You’ve had a long hard day and you need cheering up.”
FORTY-FOUR
Finally, the huge Japanese man opened his door. He looked on edge and uncertain and smaller than when he was playing his security role at the House of Tokyo. Perhaps he was dressed for bed.
“Relax,” the visitor said in Hokkien, knowing the other man would understand and know who was in control here. “Aiko isn’t it?”
The Japanese man bowed his head in acknowledgement.
The visitor said, “Let me in.”
Akio looked around the visitor in case there was anyone else outside. When he saw no one, he stepped backwards. The visitor followed him in and shut the door.
“Sit,” the visitor said switching to Japanese. Once the big man was sitting, the position of control became stronger and Aiko remained edgy.
Aiko said, “I have seen you at the House. You are a member but I do not know your tile-name.”
“I am Jin.”
Aiko’s narrow eyes bulged for a second, recognizing this wasn’t a mah-jong tile but something else entirely. He said, “I have heard of you.”
“How?”
“The money… you were very clever,” Aiko said. “I heard that you got it from that drugs bust that went wrong—the one with the British soldier. Yes?”
The visitor said nothing.
The Ja
panese security man said, “They say that’s why you are called Jin… because of the money.”
The visitor didn’t bother explaining the error. He nodded without conviction and changed the subject.
He said, “I am here about the girl.”
“Tai Tai?”
“What happened? And I do not want the story you told the police.”
“She was trading. I found out and confronted her.”
“Because?”
“Because I am the go-between at the House. All deals go through me.”
“So you confronted her? You put her in a coma.”
Aiko hung his head. “It was an accident. Yes, I hit her but then she banged her head.”
“What was she trading?”
“Guns.”
“Have you ever traded guns?”
“No.”
“You are more of a drugs man, correct?”
“Yes.”
“But she had dealt with smaller items in the past.”
Aiko shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes, but this was bigger.”
“So, you put her in a coma for not sharing a big deal with you.”
Aiko didn’t respond.
Jin said, “Why did she risk it?”
“For her boyfriend. I think she was planning to leave the House—Singapore.”
“It has caused problems.”
“I covered it up,” Aiko said, with imploring eyes. “I opened the gate and I told her friend to say a Chinese man ran away.”
Jin nodded. He said, “But it has made it very difficult. You saw the tall military policeman, yes?”
“Yes.”
“He is trying to connect what has happened. First there is a mistake that kills his friend and he has linked it to the girl.”
“Are you afraid that the girl will speak when she wakes up?”
“She might.”
“I could get rid of her for you.”
“I can handle the girl,” Jin said. “Now, tell me about the British sergeant.”
“Who?”
“William Cooke.”
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