Dead was one thing. Murdered meant something altogether different. Relevant. I rang the Gillman office.
“Suffocated,” Hegarty said when I was put through. “The coroner had natural causes originally but I asked him to triple check. And, like you suspected, he found something. There were little spots around the eyes. He hadn’t been suspicious at first because suffocation would normally result in much more obvious damage.”
I said, “But she’d been in a coma.”
“Right. She will have hardly struggled, hardly known about it.”
“Small mercies,” I said and ended the call.
I lay on my bed thinking, looking at the crack and imagined it was the lizard.
Something was troubling me. Rahman had said we should focus on the attack and that the trade in guns was secondary. We could worry about who did what afterwards. However to my mind Tai Tai’s murder changed everything. It told me that she was important.
I was already pretty certain that the ledger found in Cooke’s bag was Tai Tai’s, that she was the intermediary selling Pantelis’s goods—at least some of them. And most importantly the three hundred omega-delta items, I was pretty sure were the guns.
So where did the security man, Aiko fit in? He’d led the police to Kim who had the dancer’s costume and leaflets. Then under interrogation, Kim led us to the place in Geylang.
We’d found some of the guns but they had been decommissioned, damaged beyond repair.
There were so many elements that didn’t make sense to me and I played them over and over in my head.
Then I stopped myself. The main thing that didn’t make sense was motive.
Yipp didn’t know about the flyer or guns, I was sure of that. Secretary Coates would have loved to pin the security issue on Yipp but he couldn’t. Maybe Yipp was head of an illegal secret society but he was part of the establishment, not someone about to cause an uprising.
And what about his rival? Chen was undoubtedly secretive but his low profile was necessary. He desired political influence over Yipp’s commercial control. The flyer suggested the threat was from a gang and yet neither man knew anything. A thousand spies might be hyperbole, but surely they would have known.
Flyer, guns, dance costume, motive.
Eventually I managed to break the cycle and think about why I had come to Singapore in the first place. Tom Silverman must have seen something suspicious and probably believed Pantelis was up to no good. He had followed him to Nee Soon, but not for the first time because he’d told Mei Fen what he was doing. I wondered if the first time was the deal making and the second, the transaction.
Tom had sent me the telegram.
SINGAPORE GREAT BUT SOMETHING AMISS -(STOP)- INVESTIGATING -(STOP)- NEED YOUR HELP -(STOP)- PLEASE CALL
He must have known that I couldn’t come immediately. Did he think the transaction would come much later? It didn’t seem reasonable. If he suspected Pantelis was trading arms, he would have needed an immediate response. And yet he’d sent the message to me in Palestine. That logic bothered me. I thought about the sequence of events again. Then I tried to imagine I was Tom.
If it had been me, I would have confronted Pantelis. If I’d had time I might have gained some evidence. But Tom Silverman wasn’t me. He would have gone to someone else with his suspicion. Not his gaffer. It would need to be someone in a position of authority—in the military. Commander Alldritt then? But Alldritt was a protectionist. He had stonewalled me about the car. I had no doubt he would have stonewalled Tom.
So what next? If I were him, would I have gone to the police? No, I was used to the culture by now. There was an us-and-them mentality. The white British and the natives. The police, policed the latter. The government then? No. Tom Silverman had gone to the military police. He’d either been stonewalled again or filed away as a minor issue. At best, they hadn’t appreciated the magnitude of the issue. At worst they were complicit. That’s why he’d contacted me. He needed someone he could trust and someone who would act.
Only I’d come too late. I should have telephoned. Perhaps if I’d not been wrapped up with my own issue in Palestine I would have called the Singapore Provost Marshall’s office and made things happen.
Perhaps. Life was full of what could have been. If only I’d protected my informant in Palestine. If only we’d moved his family in time. But I hadn’t.
And I was getting nowhere.
I thought about the flyers again, how they looked homemade but definitely pointed to an attack on the parade tomorrow.
I let the events play over and over in my head. I thought about Commander Alldritt and his obstruction. I thought about Major Vernon and Sinclair and Atkinson. And thinking about Atkinson’s story reminded me of the journey to Woodlands Crossing with Evans, the war history buff, talking about which battalions had met the first wave of Japanese invaders. The car journey made me think of Hegarty and his phrases like “brass-necked” and his favourite one, “red herring”.
Round and round in my head. I had nothing.
The card trick I’d shown the little girl was about sleight of hand and misdirection. Hegarty’s phrase: red herring.
What if I had everything? I swung my legs out of the bed, delved into my pocket and pulled out the key to the Battle Box. I rolled the sticky substance between my finger and thumb, thinking. It felt like clay.
The flyer was a misdirection. The dance costume and clipping about Gaskill could be misdirections because they came from Kim. And I no longer believed he was the buyer of the guns. Because he was Aiko’s contact not Tai Tai’s.
And then there was Japanese. Not the people, but the language.
There was no point in trying to sleep, the adrenaline was pumping through my veins and my mind was hyper active.
If I had everything then what did that mean about the motive?
I paced the room and within an hour I had a firm plan.
My uniform had been laundered by the hotel and my shoes, which I’d left outside the bedroom door, had already been polished. I dressed and looked at myself in the mirror. This would be the last time I’d wear this. There was no sentiment, just an acknowledgement that it would soon be over.
I went down to the lobby to use the phone, asked for London and gave the Whitehall number to the operator. When Whitehall accepted my call, I asked to be put through to my father but as before, his secretary answered.
“Sorry Ash, he’s not available,” Sam said.
“It seems he never is.”
“Well…” I wondered if she was going to make an excuse for him or even tell me something I suspected: that the Department of Energy was a cover for something else entirely. But she didn’t. After a hesitation, she said, “I checked those names for you.”
I waited expectantly.
She said, “I tried to trace all of them but I haven’t had much time. So far I’ve only managed to reach three.”
Was that a good statistical sample? No. But then this wasn’t a science project. I would probably accept two providing the answers were identical.
She said, “None of them has received a thing. And from the way they talked I don’t think any of them expected to.”
A hotel porter flagged a taxi for me and I asked for Gillman Barracks. I was acknowledged at the barrier and walked up to the office. The same clerk was on night-duty: Corporal Franks.
“Captain Carter!” he said and looked flustered. “Sir, shall I take a cigarette break?”
“Not this time, Corporal,” I said. No subterfuge this time. I was well beyond subterfuge. I held out my hand. “Just the keys to his office please.”
I opened Vernon’s office door and turned on the light. If Vernon found out, I wouldn’t deny it. I knew now that I wouldn’t need to.
His tall filing cabinet seemingly with a hundred drawers had a key hole at the top. I riffled through the bunch and realized not one of them would fit.
Oh well. On Vernon’s desk was a silver letter opener. It had his initials on it
. I put the tip in the keyhole and punched the handle with the heel of my hand. The knife bent at the tip but the drum shifted. Another punch and a jiggle of the knife and the lock disappeared inside the cabinet. I was in.
I imagined it could take all day to go through all the documents in the drawers so I pulled some out randomly and quickly established the filing protocol. Reports were split into incident reports—which were the majority—other reports and telephone records. The three types were kept separately. Everything was otherwise in date order.
I guessed I was looking for some time around the 22nd of January, the date of Tom Silverman’s telegram to me.
I doubted this would be an incident report and I started with telephone messages. I looked at the date and then went back a few days. I found two calls from Tom Silverman for Major Vernon. No messages were left.
I put the papers back and started on the other reports. Dated the twenty-first, I found a short statement taken from Tom.
I pushed the drawers back so that the room looked undisturbed. I didn’t want Franks to get in trouble for this. However I tossed the bent letter opener on Vernon’s desk. I liked the idea that he’d guess I’d been in here and would worry about it.
I had been in and out within twenty minutes. I’d paid my taxi driver well and he was still waiting at the barrier for me. He drove me to a café near the Padang where they served breakfast all night and I watched the dark sky gradually lighten.
Before the first rays of sunlight broke across the South China Sea, I had paid for my meal and walked up to Fort Canning.
Atkinson and Gaskill were already at their desks when I arrived. We sat in the general’s office and I told them about the guns we had found, the expected attack on the parade tonight and confirmed the target appeared to be the general.
I told them my plan.
Gaskill said he would have extra guards at the fort.
“It’s the last thing you want,” I said. “I need you to act as though nothing has changed and then last minute we execute the emergency security plan. I want everyone thinking you’ll lead the parade. Then you go into the bunker.”
With their reluctant acceptance, I asked to use the telephone and called Gillman Barracks.
Franks answered.
“The major has not arrived yet,” he said.
“I’d like to speak to the lieutenant, please.”
It took ten minutes for Robshaw to pick up the phone. “Sorry, sir,” he said, “I was out having breakfast.”
“I need a favour.”
“Anything.”
“You might not say that when you hear what it is,” I said and when I told him he paused for a second and I imagined him running a hand through his blond hair.
Finally, he said, “What time?”
“Nine o’clock. Do whatever you have to but clear the HQ of everyone except the major.”
“I can do that,” he said and I started to suspect he was enjoying the prospect. “I’ll get everyone to Gillman to talk through the parade plans.”
After ending the call, I headed for the police station.
Inspector Rahman wasn’t expected for another half an hour so I stood on the bridge and watched as the wharves came alive. The water ran thick and slow. Boats that had been strung across the river overnight were untied and the godown doors cranked open. Wares appeared on trollies and were run down to the water’s edge where they were loaded onto the boats. Minutes after the first labourers started hauling bales and boxes, the first customs men appeared.
From the moment I arrived to the time I headed back to the station, the river went from quiet to frenetic. Another work day was well underway.
“You look tired, my friend,” Rahman said as I entered his office.
“I’ve been up all night.”
“Worrying about the attack tonight?”
“Something like that,” I said. “I’ve had things to do and decided to tell the general about the guns.”
“I think that was wise.”
The clock on his wall showed eight thirty-three. He offered me tea and I accepted.
Once it had been served and we were alone once more, I said, “So the general’s agreed to follow the contingency plan. He and the colonel will sit out the parade in the bunker. I will release them—” I held up the key “—when the coast is clear.”
“Excellent.”
“But one thing,” I added. “I don’t want anyone else to know. As far as the men are concerned, right until the last minute, I want them to expect the general. Anand, I’m only trusting you and Major Vernon with the information. So tell no one else for now.”
“Of course. But why Vernon?” Bemused, he shook his head. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
I laughed. “Is it that obvious?” The minute hand moved.
“Yes.”
I watched the long clock hand click another minute. “I trust him as far as I can throw him. Unfortunately Vernon needs to know.”
I could see Rahman wanted me to say more, but it would have to wait. I asked him to join me at Gillman early afternoon so we could go over joint plans for the evening.
And then I left to confront Major Vernon.
SIXTY
I strolled up Bras Basah Road and stopped on the steps of the HQ. Robshaw had done a good job. The place was silent except for a sergeant at the desk.
He looked up sharply as my shoes clacked on the marble floor.
“Sir?” he said. His eyes were full of concern.
“Is Major Vernon in his office?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I need you to leave.”
“I can’t do that, sir. Major Vernon gave a specific order. This desk needs to manned at all times.”
I handed the man a pack of cigarettes. “Take a break. I’ll cover for you.”
The sergeant still looked uncertain.
I said, “It’s an order—from me.”
That did it or maybe it was my tone. Whichever, he scooted outside as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did.
I walked past the desk, turned left to Vernon’ door and knocked.
After a count of ten, Vernon called for me to enter. I waited. A minute later I knocked again, a little more urgently. Vernon immediately called out this time. I continued to wait.
When I knocked for a third time he barked at whoever was knocking on his door. I waited and knocked again. This time I heard him scrape back his chair and stomp towards me.
The door swung open. He glared at me, his face and neck flushed with anger.
“What the hell—?”
I punched him in the stomach.
He doubled over, winded.
When he straightened he spat his words. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I’ll have you hanged for that!”
“That one was for me. This one’s for Tom.”
I punched him in the gut again. This time he sunk to the floor, coughing and glared up at me.
“You’re a fool!” he said through clenched teeth.
“Maybe,” I said. “My friend Tom Silverman was a fool too. He came to you for help and you ignored him.”
Vernon didn’t deny it.
I said, “He needed you to investigate but you just passed it over to Commander Alldritt, didn’t you?”
Vernon said nothing but his eyes told me the truth of it.
“You may as well have killed him.”
“You’re an idiot. You won’t get away with this.”
“What, hitting you? I think I will. You have no witnesses and quite frankly you aren’t in any position to complain but I’ll come to that in a minute.”
His eyes narrowed.
I said, “It all ends tonight, Major. You will lead the New Year’s parade.”
He looked surprised, not following me.
I continued: “If I’m right about the attack tonight then I’m done. If I’m wrong then it won’t matter.”
“You’ve lost your mind. You aren’t making any sens
e.”
“Far from it. I’ve spoken to the general and he’s agreed that you can lead the parade. There’s something that I didn’t tell him though. I didn’t tell him about your fencing club scam.”
He shook his head as though I was talking nonsense again. This is what my father’s secretary had confirmed. Sam had checked whether ex-MPs from the 200 Provost Company had received any money. They hadn’t.
I said, “You will do two things.”
“It’s a proper savings scheme.”
I clapped my hands on his ears and his head jerked back with the shock percussion. He slumped against the wall and looked up at me with unfocussed eyes.
“Shut up and pay attention,” I said. “You will pay back all the money you’ve taken to men who have left—like you promised. Except there will be no deductions for fencing equipment—I know how this works, you see.”
He looked at me with defeated eyes.
“Agreed?” I said.
“Agreed.”
“You’d better,” I hissed, “and you’ll do something else.”
He just looked at me.
“You’ll stop with the sadistic punishments. No more full kit drills for men with sunburn or ringworm for example. From now on, I’ll be watching you. No matter what happens tonight if you don’t change your ways then you’d better keep looking over your shoulder. Because one day I will be there and next time it won’t be a warning.”
He nodded weakly and I was happy that he’d got the message.
“Now stand up,” I said, pulling him to his feet, “and be the Provost Marshall that the men need you to be.”
I spent the afternoon at Gillman with the sergeants reviewing the parade route. Lieutenant Robshaw had arranged for a map to be pinned to a table tennis table in the common room. He’d also had his haircut, reducing his pride and joy to a neat stubble.
Inspector Rahman joined us with six other senior officers just as we were discussing high risk buildings and sections. He thought the exposed pinch point of Anderson Bridge could be an issue and we’d already identified Fullerton Square as high risk.
“A sniper on the Fullerton Building would have a good view and wide range,” Robshaw said.
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