Singapore Girl_An edge of your seat thriller that will have you hooked

by Murray Bailey

  “You slipped us a note,” I said.

  He held out his hand. “Navdeep Sethi.”

  I shook it. “The note?”

  “Do you smoke?” He held out a packet.

  I declined. “You said to go to Ulu Tiram.”

  He nodded.

  “I went there. Was it any bar in particular?”

  “I meant the camp.”

  “Kota Tinggi?”

  “Right, only we call it Ulu Tiram because that’s really where it is.”

  He swallowed and I guessed he was nervous.

  I said, “It’s all right, you can just tell me.”

  He said nothing.

  “You heard me asking your sergeant about drugs. Is anyone from your unit involved?”

  “In trafficking, you mean? No!”

  “All right,” I said, trying to remain patient. “Is it the humanitarian aid unit?”

  “Yes.”

  I nodded. “So you know about the plane and the diversions?”

  “Plane? Diversions?” he said, as if I just didn’t get it. “No, it’s the trucks you need to follow.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  The young man from BVD 221 wouldn’t say anything else. It was like his exposé released him from a burden.

  “What now, boss?” Hegarty asked when he picked me up.

  “Hungry?”

  “Me? Always.” He grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

  As we entered the village of Ulu Tiram, I think he expected us to eat there. But we didn’t. We continued the short distance to Camp Kota Tinggi.

  He parked beside the New Globe cinema and we went into the mess hall.

  There was limited choice: chicken, mash and peas, or nothing. We opted for the chicken. Maybe a dozen other men ate the same meal and I spotted three in aid unit uniforms. Two sat together. One sat alone. He was all angles and bones and his skin was dark, although I didn’t place him as Indian. He looked at me and nodded, respectful.

  All three aid guys finished shortly after we arrived. I ate slowly, thinking. Hegarty gobbled his food down and followed it with tapioca topped with a blob of strawberry jam. At least, the cook claimed it was strawberry. Hedge said it was sweet and red but tasteless.

  We drank tea and I managed to drag it out for an hour.

  The quick transition from day to night had happened as we ate, and we emerged from the mess in semi-darkness. Pools of light were shed by the central buildings. I saw groups of men walking down the road and I figured they were heading for the village and a better food selection.

  “What are we doing?” Hedge asked as I walked towards the cinema.

  “Checking what’s on.”

  Pathé News was currently running. The main feature didn’t start for another hour and a half. I studied the poster of John Wayne in a usual pose: tough cowboy comforting a pretty young woman. Angel and the Badman was the title. I guessed she was the angel. Maybe he was the bad man, though why they had made that one word was beyond me.

  “Have you seen it?” a voice asked behind me.

  Stevenson.

  “No,” I said, without turning. “In fact, I’m not into westerns.”

  “You’re missing out on a treat.”

  I couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic.

  “How are you?” he said.

  “The face and ribs still hurt.”

  “Why have you come back?”

  Now I looked at him. “You know why.”

  “Humour me. Imagine I don’t know.”

  I asked Hegarty to give us a minute and he retreated to the Land Rover. Once there, I could see his face at the window.

  Stevenson and I walked out of the light. I said, “You lied about the drugs.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I’ve a source—”

  “Well he’s wrong. Look, honest it’s not drugs. It’s hooch is what it is.”

  “Hooch?”

  “Samsoo.”

  I’d heard of samsoo. It was an illicitly distilled alcohol that the Thais and Chinese drank.

  I said, “So, are you telling me you’re brewing it or distributing?”

  “Neither. The chaps pick it up on the route. You know we’re not supposed to have it, but it’s all hearts and minds. They’re all heart and we don’t mind.” He laughed at his own joke.

  “You said ‘they’. Who are they? Who are your suppliers?”

  “Hey, I don’t know. There’s a fine line between an insurgent and the people. I’m not really a soldier anymore. I just help the people, and if the people don’t shoot at me, then I help them.”

  We walked some more.

  I said, “So you pick it up. But what’s the trade? What do these people get in return?”

  “The guys just give them some of the supplies.” He shrugged. “Nothing big, just a simple trade for the hooch. Like I said, we’re supposed to distribute the stuff anyway—just this way we get a benefit.”

  “And what about the body on the causeway yesterday?”

  “Don’t know anything about it.”

  “You don’t know who it is?”

  He shook his head.

  “Scott, I need you to be honest with me.”

  “I am. I seriously don’t know of anyone who’s missing. It’s nothing to do with us.”

  “And what about Jeevan, your pilot?”

  Stevenson shook his head. “Seriously, no. You saw the guy in the mess hall. He told me. He’s the skinny darkie. He’s as timid as a mouse. If the records show he’s not straight then I’d look at who did the records.”

  I said nothing.

  He said, “So are we cool about the hooch?”

  “I’m not interested in the samsoo.”

  “Thanks, Ash,” he said, and shook my hand. “If there’s anything…”

  “Sure.”

  He grinned. “And when you’re fit again we should have a rematch. I’ll whip your arse for real, then.”

  Hegarty dropped me at the hotel. The guests were having dinner and I stood and watched them for a moment. My focus was on the little table where Jane and I had sat and talked. I’d enjoyed her company. Yes she was sad, but she’d also been fun. Su Ling was more attractive but there was an edge to her. I couldn’t read her, and there was always the niggling doubt about her motives. Whereas Jane was open to a fault.

  But Jane was now in Singapore before she returned to Penang, and Su Ling was in Johor Bahru. Su Ling might walk into the hotel at any time.

  There was a businessman in the bar and I joined him. His company seemed a better prospect rather than wait in the quiet of my bedroom. I sipped a Tiger Beer while he knocked back brandy. He was an engineer working for a private company who built propellers for passenger ferries. I didn’t expect there to be much call for those, but apparently I was mistaken. He referred to them as propulsion systems and explained that ferries had specific requirements. Weight, roll, pitch, manoeuvrability were all specific to a heavy goods ferry.

  “You wouldn’t put car tyres on a tractor now, would you?” he said.

  He’d recently been in Penang, where his firm had sold a few for the big ships that traversed the mile crossing between the island and mainland. Of course, talk of Penang made me think of Jane and my failure to help.

  I kept glancing at the entrance. Each time someone entered the hotel, I looked up in case it was Su Ling. But it wasn’t. The businessman eventually excused himself and retired to bed. I killed another hour, dipping in and out of articles in the Straits Times.

  Finally, I decided she wasn’t coming and went up to bed.

  I don’t know what time it was but I’d been asleep and opened my eyes. The darkness was almost absolute. Grey light framed the curtains.

  For a second I imagined someone in my room, and I thought: Su Ling.

  And then it was confirmed. A floorboard creaked.

  And I saw a shape move by the curtains.

  TWENTY-TWO

  But it wasn’t Su Ling about to get into my bed. Th
e shape moved and bent over where my bag was on the floor.

  Damn! My gun was in there. But my walking stick was beside the bed. On the opposite side to the intruder.

  Rolling out of bed, I snatched up the stick and yelled. The words didn’t make sense. They were animal-like and wild. I stood and slashed in the darkness.

  A wooden chair crashed. The intruder grunted, and then, after two quick steps, the bedroom door banged open. I lunged for the door but it closed as I reached it.

  There were no lights on in the corridor. I scrabbled against the wall until I found the switch. As the light came on, I saw a dark figure disappear around the turn at the end.

  I gave chase as fast as my leg would allow. At the turn, I half expected them to attack, but the corridor was empty. However, a window was open. Below the window was a roof and then the driveway. I heard nothing except cicadas. I flicked off the lights and strained to see, but it was too dark out there.

  Then, above the insect noise, I heard the crunch of feet on gravel. Running. The sound grew distant and stopped. An engine fired up and a car drove away into the night.

  When I got back to my room, I stood in the doorway with the light on. The wooden chair was on its side. My bag was open and my clothes were on the floor.

  A quick check told me the intruder hadn’t touched the gun. In fact, nothing had been taken from my bag. Maybe I disturbed them early enough. However, my trousers had been on the chair and my wallet in a pocket. I picked them up. My wallet was gone. And so was my government ID.

  I folded my clothes and was just placing my shirt on the chair when I noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor.

  I opened the paper and stared at the two red Chinese characters written on it.

  Boat Quay was heaving with lunchtime trade. Across the Singapore River, the odour of spices and rubber competed with the mouth-watering smell of cooking from the myriad of small restaurants that occupied the short stretch opposite the godowns.

  I leaned against a wall and watched a young Eurasian woman. Su Ling was sitting at a table with two friends.

  As soon as Hegarty arrived in the morning, I asked him to take me back to Singapore. I didn’t tell him about the break-in or the Chinese note I’d been left. I’d had it translated by a member of hotel staff. He had said it meant “vicious knife”. It also had a double meaning. The combination of the two characters created a third word: “death”. It was a clear threat, and I wanted to think about the implications first.

  My explanation to Hegarty was that I wanted to speak with Lieutenant Cole. He’d been in with Major Vernon when I arrived at Gillman Barracks so the three of us talked.

  “Update?” Vernon asked me.

  I told him what I’d learned about the humanitarian aid unit, the samsoo trade and the odd flight logs of their plane.

  “It’s a good lead,” Cole said. “Better than the progress I made at Majidi. Maybe Colonel Underwood is mistaken. Maybe it isn’t drugs, it’s dodgy alcohol.”

  Vernon said, “Let’s go in and bust them.”

  My instinct was to contradict him but instead I played the diplomat. “We could do that. Or we could tail them. Find out who they’re dealing with.”

  Vernon thought it over. “The body… Could it be one of them—the aid chaps?”

  “They know nothing about it.”

  “And you believe them?” His tone was scornful.

  “I do. A sergeant admitted to everything else and I see no reason to doubt him.”

  “Progress on the body?” Vernon directed this at Cole.

  “Well the 221 does seem connected. It led us to the BVD and then the Kota Tinggi camp—which is where the aid unit are.”

  I asked, “What about the meat wagon?”

  Vernon looked at me and frowned.

  Cole said, “Customs couldn’t give me any details except for the driver and two passengers. They couldn’t remember any logos on the side but one chap thought it was a blue van. Then again, it was pitch-dark except for the spotlights from the Custom’s building, so he couldn’t be sure.”

  “Did you tell Doctor Thobhani about the ice?”

  “I did, and he said it explained a lot. Explained why he was confused about the time of death. He now estimates more than sixty to seventy-two hours but said it was impossible to be precise.”

  “What about the internal injuries?”

  Vernon looked surprised. “Internal injuries?”

  Cole said, “Sorry, thought I’d told you. He didn’t die from the decapitation. Looks like he was badly beaten and that’s what killed him. Lots of internal damage. ‘Probably with a cricket bat’ was what Thobhani said. A vicious and prolonged attack that probably went on after he was already dead.”

  Interesting. So it appeared we were looking for a cricket bat-wielding maniac. No one said anything for a while. I was waiting for a decision since I didn’t want to do this alone.

  Finally, Vernon looked me in the eye. “Right then, we’ll do it your way. Let’s follow these aid chaps. As Secretary Coates thinks, Andrew Yipp’s probably at the end of this.”

  I said, “There’s no evidence of his involvement.”

  “Yet,” Vernon said, and waved towards the door. The meeting was over.

  He was right. There was no link to Yipp at the moment, but I didn’t like the note, and seeing him was next on my list of things to do.

  Su Ling left the table and I spotted her ride. I climbed in the other side of the trishaw as she got in and deliberately left a space between us.

  “Oh, Ash! You made me jump.” She glanced at the gap and then at me. “Is everything all right?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Because I didn’t make it to the hotel last night? I didn’t get the chance and—”

  “It’s not that,” I interrupted. “I’d like to see Mr Yipp.”

  She looked at me askance, her beautiful features distorted with concern for a moment.

  “Why?”

  I handed her the piece of paper from the hotel.

  She shook her head. “Oh my!”

  “Vicious knife,” I translated. “And death. It’s clearly a threat.”

  “You’re right, it is a warning. In English you would be more blunt and say, ‘back off or die’.”

  She instructed the rider to start, and we headed for the Padang.

  I said, “Do you know anything about it?”

  “What are you saying, Ash?”

  “Just that.” I was probably being too blunt, because her eyes told me she was upset at the implication.

  She said, “How would I know…”

  “I told you where I was staying. Someone broke into my room and left it for me. It was a double message. One literal and one that they could just walk in and leave a note in my pocket. The implication was that they could have killed me then and there.”

  Her eyes looked moist and she placed a hand on her heart. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  I noticed we were circling the Padang rather than heading for Yipp’s office. I nodded and smiled, although I knew she’d see it as fake.

  “I’d like that meeting with your boss now, please,” I said.

  TWENTY-THREE

  I stood on the steps of the General Post Office. Fullerton Square was busy and congested. For such a small island there were far too many cars. They were parked all around the square, blocking the flow of traffic at one of the main junctions in the city.

  Su Ling had dropped me at the Padang rather than taken me to the Cathay Building. She said that Yipp would meet me at four o’clock, and I’d been waiting for almost an hour. I decided to allow just ten more minutes.

  Before coming here I’d been to government administration and obtained a replacement for my stolen ID. I made a call to General Gaskill, Commander-in-Chief, Far East. I was sure one of the reasons for being on Secretary Coates’ staff was my direct access to Gaskill. Once I was put through to him, I asked for a favour. He said someone would call me back.

&nb
sp; While I waited, I visited Coates and gave him a quick update. He didn’t mention the body on the causeway once. He was only interested in the possible Chinese connection, which in his mind meant a link to Andrew Yipp.

  Our meeting was interrupted by the phone call Gaskill had promised. Army Service Corps. I asked the guy about future humanitarian aid missions. When I knew the schedule I requested a variation. Gaskill must have said something because the guy on the other end agreed without question.

  And now it was almost five o’clock and I was hanging around outside the General Post Office thinking I’d been stood up by Yipp.

  I spotted a black car looking for a parking space. It was familiar. A large Ford. And then I had it. It was the car I’d seen at the school in Bukit Zarah.

  My breath caught in my throat as Commander Alldritt got out of the Ford. He strode purposefully towards me. For a second I thought he was going to speak to me, but as he approached he assiduously avoided eye contact.

  Should I ask him what he’d been doing at the school? I doubted he’d tell me. He was Major Vernon’s friend and didn’t like me.

  While I was wondering whether Alldritt’s presence at the school was one connection too far, I spotted a Chinese driver waving at me from a limo.

  Descending the steps, I walked towards the car. As I drew nearer I realized it was Wang, Yipp’s bad boy, at the wheel.

  He stepped out and opened the door for me like he was a chauffeur rather than a thug. We exchanged no words and I climbed into the rear. The car was otherwise empty. No Yipp. Wang shut the door after me and set off.

  He drove east for about two miles to an industrial estate at Kallang. I knew Yipp had a warehouse nearby and wondered whether he had chosen the site deliberately. Was he reminding me of a previous incident I’d been involved in? Maybe. I judged that he was all about symbolism and nuance. However, I didn’t care. He may have guessed what I’d done but he couldn’t use it against me.

  Andrew Yipp stood with his back to the warehouses, looking along the river to the sea. Wang loitered fifty yards away and observed.