by Andrew Grant
Of course, moonlighting is an absolute no-no as far as her employers were concerned. To be caught out doing it, especially for someone like Thomas Lu, would be instant dismissal at least and perhaps a prison term. I assured Miss Blue that this was the end of it. I also suggested that she forget all about Thomas Lu. She took that on board and saw me to the lift. I caught a cab down on Cantonment Road and headed for the Newton Circus hawker centre.
I was late for my lunch with Sami, but that didn’t matter in the scheme of things. Over our meal, I told him of my eventful morning. He approved of what I had done. I gave him Lucy Pang’s mobile number. There would maybe come a time when he would need her services himself.
“We are on schedule,” Sami said as he demolished yet another fish head curry. He had a thing for them, no doubt. I stuck with Soon Wah’s fishball noodles and a side dish of cockles and sausage. I was hungry! Somewhere along the way, I had missed out on breakfast.
“Any sign of that bitch Kaylin?”
“No. I’ve got eyes out and about, but no one has found anything out. She’s gone to ground,” Sami replied, sipping at his water. I had the inevitable bottle of Tiger. I joined him in a silent toast. Somewhere, some day, Kaylin would put her head above the parapet and Sami or I or one of ours would be waiting to take it off.
After lunch, Sami went on his solitary way, a little old man lugging along his battered little suitcase. He told me he was going back to Nassim Hill. I realised that I hadn’t even asked him exactly where his bolthole was and he hadn’t offered to tell me. That was the way he worked. As I watched him go out of sight, I decided that he really deserved an Oscar for his performance.
I decided to walk to the apartment. I felt confident that Lu had called off his hounds. Why risk another incident when I was scheduled to get out of his patch in a day’s time?
On the way back, I came across a mock Irish pub in a shopping block. I sat on the terrace over a beer and a cigarette and watched the traffic roll on by for a while before heading on down to Cairnhill Rise.
I didn’t bother doing the subterfuge number of going underground when I arrived at the complex. I think I was a little too relaxed or I would have seen it coming. I was about fifty metres from the entrance to the apartment complex when a large white sedan swept into the kerb beside me and stopped sharply with a squeal of rubber. I was totally out in the open. The nearest cover was metres away. Lost in a fucking daydream, I was toast if this was one of Lu’s moves.
47
“Mr Swann, a word?’
The voice was smooth but strong. The fact that this guy knew my real name was enough to anchor me to the spot. I turned towards the white sedan. It was a medium-sized Mercedes. The tyres needed blackening and the wheel trims deserved a polish. Funny the inconsequential things you notice when your life is potentially on the line. The speaker was in the rear seat, the tinted window was down but no gun was pointed my way yet. Okay, I was still alive, and the speaker wasn’t Lu. Was this the moment the Singapore police department got their man? Or was I about to die here on the streets of one of Singapore’s most illustrious enclaves at the hands of an old adversary?
The man leaned forward so his face was framed in the car window. There was still no weapon pointing at me. He held both of his hands up for me to see. They were empty. I stepped closer to the car. The front passenger door began to open. I put the sole of my boot on it and forced it shut.
“Everyone stays inside the car!”
“As he says. Stay inside,” the speaker ordered, then he turned back to me. I knew the man although I had never met him. There was a wicked scar across his forehead. He was smiling at me, a pearly white smile against his swarthy complexion.
“Mr Marco Mendez?” I ventured. The man in the car removed his sunglasses as he nodded.
“Yes, Mr Swann. Would you agree to sit with me for a moment or two? I have something to discuss with you.”
I checked out the rest of the car. There was a man in front, the guy who had started to get out, doubtless to frisk me or for some other purpose. Beside the minder was the driver, a nervous-looking local. Marco Mendez was alone in the rear seat. I nodded and reached for the door handle. Marco moved across. “Go around a large block, driver,” he said. “We need ten minutes to talk.”
Given the Mendez brothers’ reputation for violence, I hitched the cuff of my left leg as I sat, just in case I had to pull my blade in a hurry. The car cruised away from the kerb.
“You know my name.” I stated.
“We have done some research,” Marco responded. “We looked closely at Mr Somsak and his friends.”
“Sizing up the opposition?” I suggested. Marco Mendez laughed.
“Exactly, and that was before we decided that to go up against Mr Somsak, especially on his own territory, would be extremely stupid and doomed to failure. Just as Mr Somsak coming up against us in our own country would be equally foolhardy.” Marco paused, his hand slid into his jacket. I tensed, mentally planning to block the hand with my right, while driving the edge of my left into his Adam’s apple. The Colombian shook his head, reading my thoughts.
“Cigars, Mr Swann, Quai D’Orsay from Cuba. I favour their panatellas. Do join me.” Mendez took a leather cigar case from his inside pocket. He removed the end of the case and slid two long, thin cigars part way out. I took one and peeled off the wrapping. Marco did likewise and lit up for the both of us using a diamond-encrusted lighter. He then leaned back in his seat, intent no doubt on enjoying his cigar. I did likewise. What the hell, a good cigar is a good cigar, no matter who gives it to you.
“Delicious, don’t you think?” Marco blew out a stream of the sweet smoke as I savoured my first hit. There was no doubt the Colombian drug lord had taste, at least when it came to cigars. “You are a very dangerous and resourceful man, Mr Swann. I congratulate you on having stayed alive for so long in a very dangerous occupation.”
“I’m retired now,” I said taking another larger bite of the expensive smoke. “I agree, delicious!”
“Yes, Mr Swann, it is a premium cigar.” Mendez chuckled. “But as for your retirement, that makes me smile. You will never retire, as I will never retire. That is the sort of people we are.”
“Maybe,” I replied noncommittally. “Why are you here?”
“We heard about the bomb, naturally. We know that Mr Somsak has left Singapore and that Thomas Lu is still alive. I have come here to take care of the man who killed my brother.” Marco sent another plume of smoke into the air. “We need him dead. It is a matter of family honour.”
I sat in silence for a moment. Marco was looking at me. I made a decision and removed my cell from my pocket. I tapped out Sami’s number. He answered within seconds. It wasn’t the old man’s voice.
“Yes, Daniel?”
“I am in a car with Marco Mendez. He and Carlos are concerned that you are not in Singapore and that Lu is still alive. Perhaps you would like to reassure him that everything is proceeding as it should.” I handed the phone to the Colombian drug lord.
The conversation was a long one and one-sided, with Sami doing all of the talking. When the call reached its conclusion, Marco handed the phone back. He was smiling and nodding.
“Mr Somsak is a very clever operator. I look forward to witnessing tomorrow night’s performance.”
I had no idea exactly what “performance” that was. At this moment in time, Marco Mendez obviously knew more than I did about what was going to take place. I glanced outside the car. We had completed the long block and were pulling up back outside the apartment.
“Just one word of caution for Mr Somsak, please. It is not a threat, Mr Swann.” Mendez used his cigar as a pointer to emphasize his point. “Lu must die tomorrow night as planned. If he doesn’t, we will immediately take whatever measures necessary to kill him. The bomb at your cemetery will perhaps be a firecracker compared to what we are prepared to do to remove him if Mr Somsak fails.”
I opened the door and sat for a mom
ent. “I have heard that some of your, shall we say, terminations, have been quite spectacular. Not subtle to be sure, but definitely spectacular.”
Marco Mendez laughed. It was a big laugh. “Yes, Mr Swann, we do it big to send a clear message to our enemies. Our messages usually get through, in most cases anyway. Your Mr Somsak likes to be a little more, as you said, subtle. Each to his own.”
“Indeed, Mr Mendez. Each to his own! Enjoy the show,” I added, stabbing right out there into the dark as I got out of the car.
“We’ll be waiting,” came the response through the closing door.
With that, Marco Mendez disappeared into the evening traffic and I went up to the penthouse to ponder the day’s happenings and try and guess what Sami had in mind for the following night. The fact was plain enough: if we screwed up, Singapore was going to see the biggest bang since WW2, and that would not be pretty.
“Welcome, Kaylin. I am so sorry about the little misunderstanding we had.” Thomas Lu was all smiles. Kaylin was also happy. Happy she had the protection of Thomas Lu against her former employer, happy that the promise from Lu would accomplish all that she dreamed of and more as far as serving her particular addiction went.
Lu personally showed her to her quarters. She was not just staying in a room with a bed and a bathroom; this was a mini apartment. There was a bedroom with a huge bed, plus a spacious en suite. The apartment was completed by a lounge with a small kitchen attached.
“I think you will be very comfortable here,” Lu said. “I would ask you not to bring guests back here unless by prior arrangement with myself,” he added. “Security, my dear.”
“Of course, Mr Lu.” That did disappoint her, but having Lu’s protection meant more.
“We will, however, bring some entertainment in and you will certainly be able to indulge and participate if you want to, of course.”
Kaylin wanted that very much and she told her new master so. Thomas Lu smiled at her eagerness. The next few days are going to be very interesting, Lu thought as he made to leave his new houseguest’s suite.
“By the way,” he paused in the doorway, “I believe you left virtually all of your possessions behind at Somsak’s apartment.”
“Yes, I left in a great hurry.”
“Tomorrow we will arrange a shopping expedition for you. I’m sure we can obtain most of what you lost. At my expense, of course.”
Lu departed, leaving Kaylin wondering if all her Christmases had come at once. As a Christian, she believed in Christmas. However, something about Thomas Lu sent a shiver down her spine. She knew deep down that he didn’t believe in anything but Thomas Lu.
“I had no idea that they were back.”
“Slipped in quietly through some back door perhaps. He didn’t mention if Carlos was here with him.”
“No, but Marco has brought a team with him it appears. The chaos of the past weeks has distracted me,” Sami said. Even through my cell, he sounded tired.
“You lost a lot of people,” I countered. “You can’t be everywhere.”
“You are right as usual, Daniel. But still, I do not like it when something like this happens. I need the Mendez brothers to stay away from Singapore. If they detonate this bomb that Marco hinted that they have with them, this place will lock down so tight that the Intella Island project will stall. I can’t have that, Daniel. It is too important to me.”
“Then we had better make sure that tomorrow night’s little soirée doesn’t fail. When are you going to explain what the hell is going to happen and who will be involved? Lu has a fucking army in the building; we’re going to need our own army.”
“No, Daniel. There will just be the three of us. You, me and K, that’s all we’ll need. I’ll come to the penthouse mid-morning and I’ll explain it all then.” The phone went dead. I closed my handset and pondered what to do with the evening that was falling outside. I was twitchy, unsettled. I needed to do something, anything, and I wasn’t in the mood for a run.
In the end I showered, dressed and headed down to Orchard. I had a meal in a restaurant in Peranakan Place and then followed that with a couple of beers at a pub before I headed on up the street to Orchard Towers. I’d heard about the infamous “Four Floors of Whores” and figured it was time I paid the place a visit. I wasn’t looking for a pick-up, but curiosity has always been a big factor in my makeup.
I know most of the fleshpots of Thailand well. I’d spent a lot of time working in the underbelly of the place over some fifteen years based in Bangkok. The Towers experience was pretty much the same as many of the Thai meat streets and clubs. Wall-to-wall pussy. There was a bit more clothing evident than in many of the Thai bars and clubs, but the faces were the same. There were Thai girls by the score, Chinese, Filipina, Malaysian, even Japanese and more than a few Europeans. I didn’t know whether to be elated or depressed by the abundance of willing flesh, albeit available for a price. I guess you pay one way or another anyway. Who is to say that a cash transaction for sex is any less honest than a shitty marriage with its constant bartering, bribes and bullshit?
I left the Towers alone. Despite the hundreds of distractions that had thrown themselves my way, there was only one woman on my mind and she was sealed in a coffin waiting for the time she was finally laid to rest. Yes, I was depressed. I stopped at a pub and had a beer and then another. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels calling me from the shelf. I ignored it and walked home. I was sober and sour. Not a good combination in Daniel Swann!
48
The day of Thomas Lu’s impending death dawned with a clear sky. I felt as flat as I had when I’d gone to bed. I’d tried to put thoughts of Simone and what had been and might have been away into a deep place in my brain. It hadn’t worked. As a result, I’d had a more or less sleepless night. Nightmare explosions and flying tombstones shattered what sleep I did manage to get.
I showered and dressed. I felt gritty and tired. Breakfast didn’t hold any appeal, so I collected a pot of coffee from the kitchen and went through to Sami’s study. There, I fired up the computer that had been cunningly built into the desk. The keyboard was on a sliding shelf that came out and then folded back over the edge of the desk. One touch of a key and the wide screen rose up vertically on the far side of the desk. It was a very sophisticated set-up and a very powerful computer.
I’m not a great one for emails; however, I keyed into my account and it was full of messages. I canned most. Annoying how, despite the number of SPAM filters in use, the shit still gets through. Two mails in particular, however, gained my undivided attention. One was from the beautiful Dr Sylvia Dixon, my former wife. She was getting married again. The mail was a week old. I replied that I was glad for her and clicked the send button. Was I pleased for her? I guess in a way I was. Sylvia was beautiful, smart and she deserved all the good things in life. We had been good together, but not good for each other.
The second email was from Sakura. She was asking how I was. What could I say? That I had lost the woman I maybe loved. That half the world wanted to kill me while the other half didn’t care if I lived or died.
“Oh crap!” I snarled aloud at myself. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you sad fuck!” My cellphone went a moment or two later. It was Sami.
“Yes, Daniel,” he said. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”
“You what?”
“I agree with you. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Sylvia is getting married again. Sakura is calling to see how you are. As you have often said to me, life goes on, my friend.”
“How do you know this?” The answer was obvious, Sami had bugged the office and wherever he was calling from, he had a monitoring system. He laughed.
“Go to my Samurai, Daniel. Lift off his helmet.”
I did as Sami told me. I stepped around the figure to the rear. The fucking thing still gave me the shivers. I didn’t want the arm that held that damned sword to suddenly come to life. I lifted off the ornate, full-face mask. There, in place of the mannequin’
s head, was a camera on a swivel mechanism. As I stood looking up at it, the camera moved without a sound. The lens turned 180 degrees and stared down at me. I moved past the warrior and put the helmet down on the desk. The camera followed me. I picked up the mobile and put it back to my ear.
“You look like shit.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I replied. “I guess the microphone is in the armour.”
“On his belt, actually. It’s amazing what my Samurai sees. Our friend Kaylin indulged herself in here several times with a variety of playmates; including my brother, unfortunately.”
“I didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” I said sarcastically.
“Only when my security is threatened,” Sami responded smoothly.
“Sorry, my old friend, I’m a bit shitty-livered today!”
“It’s called grief, Daniel. I’m feeling it too, but let us put Lu away, say farewell to the Mendez mob and bury our dead. Then we’ll grieve properly.”
“You’re right,” I replied. “Absolutely right. When are you coming in?”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Roger that!”
I replaced the Samurai’s mask and sat back down at the computer. I wrote to Sakura asking her how she was doing and told her I was fine. I ended by saying that I would come and see her in a few weeks. I sent the mail and then flicked into my bank account.
I had US$52 million plus change sitting warming itself in the Caribbean. There was some comfort in that, I guess. I poured another coffee, lit a cigarette and waited for Sami. Nicotine and caffeine, the diet of kings and killers!
I’ve always had a problem killing time leading up to an operation, and this day was no different. Sami came. We talked and he outlined his plan. It was simple. It was, dare I say it, brilliant. Now I knew what he meant when he said that just three of us could storm Thomas Lu’s fortress in the sky and take it. If all went well, Thomas Lu’s death would appear to be a suicide. Failing that, it could be seen to be the final act in the gang war that the media and police still maintained had caused the dozens of deaths and injuries in Singapore in the past few months.