She let out another couple of sobs, then pulled herself together. She whispered something, so quietly that I couldn’t hear her. I told her so. ‘Fifty thousand US,’ she repeated, a little louder.
‘And you give me?’
‘The negatives, and every print I have.’
‘You’d get ten thousand sterling, tops, from a Scottish tabloid,’ I pointed out.
‘Money’s never been my motivation, until now. But, like you said, it’s not just Harvey who’s involved.’
‘When?’
‘Tonight. It has to be tonight.’
‘Jesus, how am I going to get hold of fifty grand on a Sunday?’
She looked at me, with a tiny smile that I found amusing. ‘Oz, people like you can get hold of fifty grand any time.’
‘You have to believe that if you cross me on this I will help these people find you.’
‘Having listened to you, I do believe it. You really don’t live up to your image, do you?’
‘Not a bit. Where do we complete?’
‘I’ll come to your hotel.’
‘No fucking way, paparazzi hang around there. Pick somewhere less obvious.’
She frowned. ‘There’s a place called the Next Page on Mohamed Sultan; it’s a pub where the actors hang out. It would be natural for you to go there, and it’ll be safe for me because there are plenty of people around. I’ll be in one of the private booths at the back. Be there at seven.’
‘I can’t: I’m on telly, remember.’
‘Damn! So you are. Make it nine, in that case. It’ll still be busy then.’
‘Okay, but, Maddy, I repeat, don’t even think of pulling a fast one on me.’
‘Don’t worry. I won’t.’
I gave her a last stare, to make her a true believer. She made as if to stand, but I put a hand on her thigh to stop her. ‘Tell me, in case I have to explain it to Harvey. What the fuck have you done to get in trouble this bad?’
‘I told you, you don’t want to know.’
‘I bloody do: now tell me.’
‘I’ve been stupid, more stupid than I’ve ever been in all my stupid life. I’ve been hoist by my own thingie . . .’
‘Sounds agonising.’
‘You know, by my own whatchacallit.’
‘Petard?’
‘That’s the word. It all began when Tony and I had been here for a few months. I began to notice gaps in his diary, periods when I didn’t know where he was. I’m a bit of a control freak where my men are concerned, so I asked him. He got evasive, gave me general answers about business. I’d been down that road with Sandy, so I decided to deal with it the same way.’
‘You mean . . .’
She was hurried, anxious: she cut me off. ‘I followed him, with my camera. I’ve studied photography, and I’m very good at it, as Harvey will have told you. I trailed him to an address in Chinatown, just off Pagoda Street, a first-floor flat. I found a vantage-point across the road, I used a telephoto lens and I saw him in a room, in his shirt, with another man. I thought, Fuck me, this one’s gay too! and I hit the motor drive.’ She chewed her lip.
‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘You tried to put the black on Tony and he’s turned very nasty.’
‘No, not like you mean anyway. He found out, but not that way. I made a huge mistake. To get best quality I use film, not digital, for serious stuff. I hadn’t set up my own darkroom facilities here, so I had it developed commercially, in a shop right there in Chinatown. Oz, those Triads are everywhere. The guy who developed the film must have run off another set of prints, and handed them on to the man Tony met.’
In a flash, I saw why she was scared. ‘You mean the other man was a Triad?’ I asked her.
‘Not any old gangster: he’s the leader of the whole Singapore organisation. And there’s more. I never suspected it for a moment, but Tony’s a Triad member himself. A couple of days ago, he came home and he went berserk; he’d been shown the photographs, and told me he knew everything, that the film had been handed in for processing by a dark-haired Western woman, and where. Well, he went crazy at me. He told me he’s been in the organisation since he was in his teens. He went to London because of it, and his move back to Singapore was engineered by them as a sort of promotion. He didn’t tell me how they work, only that they’re an old-established network, and that you’ll find them in Chinese communities across the world. Tony says that the Triads as a society are compulsively secretive, and so brutal they make the Mafia look like Amnesty International. In their areas they control everything, drugs, protection, prostitution, you name it. The Singapore government’s been at war with them for decades. They’ve hanged some of them, they’ve caned others half to death, but they still haven’t won. The organisation’s still there.’
Nothing she said surprised me. I’d heard of the Triads; many a film production company’s had to buy their cooperation, especially in Canada. ‘Yes,’ I murmured. ‘You really are in the shit.’
‘And how! The man at the top has decided I’m a government spy: he’s ordered Tony to kill me.’
‘And does Tony plan to? Are you hiding from him?’
‘No. He loves me; we’re getting off the island together, as fast as we can. That’s why we need the money. Tony’s playing for time. He has me hiding out with a friend in the theatre company, and he’s told the leader that he’s carried out his orders and that I’m dead.’
‘Does the guy believe him?’
‘We don’t know for sure. He said that he did, but that others might not, so he wants to see my head. Tony told him that he’d buried my body out on the nature reserve. He told him, tough, to dig me up.’
‘I don’t think he’s convinced anybody,’ I told her. ‘I went to Tony’s office this morning; it had been turned upside-down. Would you bet that whoever did it wasn’t looking for your film?’
Jesus, this woman: the thought ran through my mind that maybe I should just shoot her. Easier all round. ‘So,’ I hissed at her furiously, ‘this deadly, ruthless international terror organisation thinks you’re a government spy, and you’ve set up a meeting with me, in a public place. Thanks a fucking bunch. Why didn’t you just put a chip in a fucking android or something and send it to my hotel? “Help me, Obi-Wan Blackstone. Only you can save me!” Come to think of it, you even look a bit like Carrie Fisher, minus the daft hairstyle. Well, I have news for you, dear, I’m not Obi-Wan, I’m Darth Vader. Now, please, fuck off. I’ll see you at nine tonight.’
22
When I thought about it, I realised that if these Triads had followed Maddy to our meeting-place, I’d have found her on the other side of the bridge, minus her head. Not that that improved my mood a hell of a lot.
Even Sammy could see that something was wrong when I caught up with him and Mike, although he said nothing. We saw it through to the end of the Siloso tour, then caught the cable car back to the mainland. We picked up a taxi at the terminal and headed back to the hotel, where I left the other two with the excuse that I had to speak to the telly people about the night’s events.
In reality, I went to my room to speak to a man about fifty thousand US dollars. Maddy had been right: people like me can always get their hands on cash at any time. I called American Express, found someone senior enough to make big decisions and told him what I wanted. He guaranteed that the money would be at the Stamford by five o’clock.
After that I really did have to speak to the television people; the show’s assistant producer told me that they would send a limo for me at six, and that I had been slotted in as the first item, after the presenter Mai Bong’s warm-up. He said that the questioning wouldn’t be difficult, ‘just the usual stuff’. I grimaced at that: the day I’d had . . . so far . . . and here I was, giving some interviewer I didn’t know a blank cheque.
In my experience there are two kinds of talk-show host, those who ask intelligent questions and convey an interest in their guests, and those who see them as a wall off which they can bounce their own sparkling personaliti
es. I hoped that Mai Bong wasn’t one of those, otherwise it might be an interesting ride.
I checked my watch for the umpteenth time that day. I had one and a half hours to wait until the money arrived, but at least it was late enough to call home without having Susie slaughter me.
She sounded so pleased to hear me that it moved my homesickness up several notches. ‘How’s the quest?’ she asked.
‘With a bit of luck, it’ll be over tonight. I’ve located the woman, and she’s willing to deal: the pics for fifty thousand US.’
‘That’s not too bad: Harvey can afford that, no problem.’
‘Not as well as I can, though. It’ll be a present for my sister.’
She laughed. ‘Sometimes you can be too nice for your own good.’
‘That’s not what Maddy January thinks: she’s had to choose whether I’m bluffing or whether she should be really scared of me. Happily she’s made the right choice.’
‘What’s she like? A bit of a bitch, like Harvey says?’
‘No, that’s probably an understatement. She’s a thoroughly dangerous woman, but this time she’s bitten off way too big a mouthful. Shit!’ I had just remembered that I still had her gun in my pocket. I didn’t need to read the tourist guide to know that the locals would take a pretty dim view if they found it.
‘What?’ Susie asked.
‘Nothing. I nearly dropped a drink, that’s all.’
‘Speaking of drink,’ she retorted, ‘how’s that long glass of water you’re travelling with?’
‘Better now than he was this morning. We had a couple last night. I worked them off; he didn’t.’
‘What are you doing tonight?’
I told her about the short-notice television show. ‘After that I’m meeting Maddy to close on our deal. All being well, we’re on the first available plane out of here, and home on Tuesday.’
‘All had better be well. Oz, once you’ve paid her off, is there any chance Harvey will ever hear from her again?’
‘Very little, I would say. She’ll probably be off the island before we are.’ I asked her about my dad; she said that he was doing so well they were letting him home the following day, with nursing support from his local medical practice. It was the first good news I’d had in Singapore. I told my wife I loved her and hung up, then helped myself to that drink I’d pretended to spill, a half-bottle of a pretty decent Aussie chardonnay.
As I sipped it, I thought about what I had got myself into or, rather, what Harvey had got me into. Time to report back, I decided, so I called him. He was astonished when I told him that Maddy had contacted me. I didn’t go into detail, just said that things had gone sour for her in Singapore and she needed to raise cash to do a runner. We had a discussion about whose cash it was going to be, Harvey insisting that it would be his, but we left that issue unresolved . . . or, at least, I let him think we had.
Finally, I called Semple House, Auchterarder. I was after Miles, but it was Prim who answered. ‘They left last night: I told you it was only a flying visit.’
‘I didn’t think it was that short. How’s your dad?’
‘Fine. How’s yours?’
‘Getting finer by the day. He’s getting home tomorrow.’
‘That’s great. Would you mind if I went to see him?’
‘I wouldn’t, but you’d better phone Mary first to make sure he’s receiving, so to speak.’
‘Will do.’ There followed one of those Prim pauses, where you could hear her mind work, and her curiosity get the better of her. ‘Oz,’ she asked at last, ‘what the hell are you doing in Singapore? There was no mention of it when I was with you in Monaco.’
‘Family business. There’s a situation involving Harvey and his former wife; I’m sorting it out for him and she’s out here.’
‘Maddy January?’ she exclaimed.
‘You know her?’
‘I’ve met her, yes.’
‘You never told me that.’
‘The subject never came up; I didn’t see the need to.’
‘I suppose not,’ I conceded. ‘Where did you come across her?’
‘In Edinburgh, before I met you. It was when Dawn was trying to get her career under way, working in the Lyceum theatre company. I was home on leave from my nursing job in Africa; I hung around with Dawn’s crowd, and so did she. As I recall it, she was screwing an actor at the time; an insipid jerk he was. I’m sure she was still married to Harvey, but that issue was never raised. There was a rumour that she’d had a fling with Ewan Capperauld before that . . . Well, actually, now that I recall it, it wasn’t a rumour: she was quite open about it. I assumed that she was bullshitting, though.’
‘No, she wasn’t; I have that from the man himself, but let it not pass your lips.’
‘His secret’s safe with me.’ She chuckled. ‘No chance of an introduction to said man, is there?’
‘Maybe, if the opportunity arises. I’ll warn him first, though. Come to think of it, you almost did meet him, that day on the set in Edinburgh when Miles poleaxed your boyfriend.’
‘Nicky was never really my boyfriend, you know that. That was all to get at you.’
‘You succeeded: there was such a fucking row that Ewan locked himself in his trailer and didn’t come out for an hour.’
‘He’d have been better locking himself away from Maddy January: gorgeous though she was, that woman struck me as big trouble waiting to happen.’
‘And it has, my dear, it has.’
‘I can just imagine her first line when she sees you, you being an actor an all: is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?’
‘Actually, it’s a gun, but it’s so small I’d be offended if she asked that.’
I had hung up on her, called Susie again just so I could hear her say, ‘Hello,’ for a second time that morning, and was half-way through the chardonnay, when Dylan knocked at my door. I let him in; he let himself into the mini-bar and grabbed a bottle of Corona. There was a fruit bowl on the table; he complained that it didn’t contain any limes, then cut himself a slice of lemon instead and shoved it into the neck of the bottle. No class; the boy never had any class.
‘So,’ he said, when he’d stopped spluttering from the foam that had surged up the neck of the bottle when he took his first swig, a problem when you substitute lemon for lime, ‘what’s the fucking story?’
‘Very interesting,’ I assured him. ‘I want you to do something for me.’ I took the pistol from my pocket and handed it to him.
He almost jumped from his chair. ‘Jesus Christ, Oz! Where did you get that?’
‘It’s Maddy’s. I took it from her for everyone’s safety, although hers is in very short supply at the moment. Dump it for me when I’m at the TV studio. Don’t mess about: go down to the river and chuck it in. And make fucking sure you’re not seen.’
‘Teach your granny. Do you think I’ve never lost a hot gun before? But why the hell is she walking around with it? The Singaporeans cane you for that sort of thing, woman or not, plus they bang you inside for a while.’
I told him Madeleine’s whole sorry tale, watching, as I did, his eyebrows rise higher and higher. ‘She’s photographed a Triad chief?’ he gasped. ‘They think she’s a spy? Oz, don’t go near this woman again. I’ll make the trade, and I’m keeping the fucking gun until I do.’
‘Wrong on both counts. She’ll run a mile if she sees anyone but me. And the gun goes in the river.’
‘You’re mad, you know that? Barking fucking mad. I can just hear the TV interview.
‘“And why are you in Singapore, Mr Blackstone?”
‘ “I’m here to pay off a blackmailer so she can escape the Triads before they cut her fucking head off.”
‘Jesus, their ratings will go sky-high.’
23
The cash arrived on time, delivered to the hotel by courier. I signed for it then took it upstairs to the safe in my room.
To set the scene for what I’m about to tell you,
I hope you’ll understand that, with all the day’s events, I was not in the best frame of mind to be appearing on a live television show. I thought about pulling out, using delayed jetlag as an excuse, but that might have drawn more headlines, so I decided I wouldn’t disappoint my Singaporean fans. The cricket movie Red Leather was a huge success on the island when it was released, and the DVD has been number one in the charts all this year, so I’m not bragging: there really are quite a few of them.
The production assistant who’d booked me in for the show was in the limo when it came to collect me. It was a stretch Honda, with a bar in the back. My enthusiastic escort offered me champagne, enthusiastically, but I declined. The last thing I needed was a loosened tongue, and that seemed to be the idea; get the guest a little pissed, but not too much, and see what happens.
I’d done no real homework on the show; if Susie had been there, or Roscoe, I’d have had a bollocking for that, but they weren’t, so my omissions went unchecked. One of the things I didn’t find out until I arrived at the studio was that there would be a studio audience, and that they wouldn’t just be there to laugh and clap on cue, they’d be chipping into the discussion. The producer explained all this in the green room . . . they’d taken the term literally: almost everything in it was green, even some of the dim sum things on the buffet table. The other guest was there too; I’d always wanted to meet Eric Cantona, but he didn’t seem all that bothered about me, although he was very polite.
I’d expected our host to come in at some point, to say hello and put us at our ease. That was what had happened on every other talk-show I’ve ever done, but clearly they didn’t go in for such a courtesy on that particular production. It wasn’t the most professional thing I’ve ever encountered, before or since, and I wasn’t too impressed.
You know me well enough by now, I hope, to appreciate that I’m rarely bothered by trivia; it takes something big to blow my fuses. They started to overheat, though, when I walked on set and under the hot lights towards the seat that was waiting for me, and discovered for the first time that Mai Bong wasn’t the attractive Chinese lady I’d been expecting, but a man, a smarmy wee geezer with greased-up black hair and heavy makeup. I expected him to stand, to welcome me to his show and offer a handshake . . . Parky always does that . . . but, no, he just sat there, beaming like a small round fifty-year-old cat, and, for some reason, winking at the studio audience.
For The Death Of Me Page 14