Tropical Connections

by Vereker, Susie

  ‘What language! I didn’t know you knew such words. Not such a polite little Pommy person after all,’ said Drew, laughing as he hauled her back into position. ‘Sorry about that: helmsman’s fault. Still, we didn’t capsize.’

  ‘God, I didn’t know there was any risk of that. I should have a wetsuit. I’m not dressed for this type of sailing. Is it much longer?’ muttered Claire, rubbing her thigh. ‘Only an hour. But you know the first law of sailing?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘On a sailing trip the time of arrival is always at least one hour later than the Captain estimates.’

  ‘Oh God. I can’t stick this out much longer. I’m not cut out for it, really I’m not.’

  ‘But it’s not so windy now. We’re drawing near to Maising. Soon you’ll be able to sit down and cuddle next to me.’

  Claire watched as the shore line grew slowly closer. She began to pick out beach houses, then people and soon they were amongst other boats. She could see the familiar yacht club beach getting nearer and nearer and, at last, they arrived.

  No one took any notice of them when Drew beached the boat at the club. Claire was almost too stiff to walk as she clambered down, and her fingers were almost too cold to unbuckle the clips and divest herself of the trapeze harness.

  The head boat boy sauntered down to put away the boat. It was all a matter of routine for him, she realized. She wanted to scream and say, ‘Look, we’ve arrived – we’re safe,’ but she kept silent.

  Drew said, ‘Just walk casually with me to the car park. Martin was sending an Embassy driver for us.’

  ‘Really? Oh, great. But I’m petrified that Jean-Louis will suddenly appear.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Just keep walking.’

  A white Ford with blue diplomatic number plates stood parked in the shade. The driver even had a couple of towels to hand. Gratefully Claire wrapped one around herself and sank back into the seat. Looking around, Drew got in beside her, arranging the other towel so that his wet swimming shorts would not damage the official upholstery.

  She squeezed his hand. ‘So far so good.’

  They were silent on the drive back into the city. Claire was still mentally holding her breath, fearful that at any moment they would be ambushed. But eventually they arrived at the tall, crested Embassy gates. The guard opened them and saluted smartly.

  ‘Thank you, Drew,’ said Claire in heartfelt relief as they stopped under the portico of the large white colonial mansion.

  ‘That’s OK. Look, I have to go as soon as I’m ready . . . I left my gear here. Like I said, when I’ve changed, I need to get a taxi to the airport.’

  ‘What, straight away?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry. So I’ll say goodbye now.’

  ‘Oh, well, goodbye then.’

  ‘I don’t know what your plans are,’ he said awkwardly.

  ‘I don’t know either,’ she said, looking up at him.

  ‘See you then. By the way, I left a note of my address and phone number in Oz. Told Lucy to give it to you.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘Just in case you ever need it.’

  ‘Right.’

  He turned and rang the doorbell.

  Twenty-Six

  Lucy herself opened the door. She flung her arms around Claire. ‘Oh, I’m so relieved you’re OK. It’s wonderful to see you. I’ve been so worried. Somjit has made up a bed for you. You must stay as long as you like.’ She turned and then gave a squeak. ‘Oh, Drew, I nearly forgot. I know you’re in a rush to get to the airport. I won’t hold you up. Your clothes and stuff are in the middle bathroom.’

  With a quick apologetic grin, Drew raced up the stairs. Claire gazed after him. ‘Come and sit down,’ urged Lucy. ‘Will you have something to drink?’

  ‘Marvellous, I’d like two huge glasses of water, please – but I’d better shower first. I’m far too underdressed to sit on your smart chairs.’

  Lucy laughed, squeezing her hand. ‘Rubbish, but if you’d really rather change, I’ll take you straight up to your room. I’ll find you something to wear.’

  After a luxurious bath, Claire dressed in the rather peculiar saggy pink shift-dress that Lucy had provided and, hoping to have a quiet moment with Drew, stood waiting on the wide upstairs landing. But there was no sign of him and so, reluctant to start opening all the grand-looking bedroom doors, she went slowly downstairs to join Lucy on the verandah.

  The promised glasses of water had been placed by the side of a comfortable planter’s chair. Claire sank down in relief and drank most of the first glass in one gulp.

  Immediately Lucy began. ‘Martin was so angry when he heard what we’d been up to. But I sort of played down my part in the whole thing. I didn’t say it was me who went with you to Meng’s. You have to understand, Martin’s a lot older and in his job he has to be rather careful – and, without meaning to, I think I’ve been rather indiscreet. I mean, diplomats’ wives are not meant to do silly things.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry if I dragged you into it all, but I felt I had to do something about Pel. I expect the Embassy will see justice done now.’

  Lucy shot her a quick glance. ‘I think Martin wants to talk to you when you’ve recovered a bit. But you will be careful what you say about me and Meng, won’t you?’

  Blimey, thought Claire.

  ‘Lucy, you’re putting me in an impossible position. You’ll have to tell me what he knows already.’

  ‘I said you had reason to believe Pel had been murdered, that you thought Jean-Louis and Meng were involved and that you went to Meng’s house to search for evidence, that’s all I said. I have to tell you he thinks you’ve been very silly, acting like some sort of youthful Miss Marple. He says it’s far too dangerous in this sort of place. Particularly as you may have overdramatized the situation, he thinks.’

  ‘Hardly,’ said Claire indignantly. ‘But has anyone been arrested yet for kidnapping me?’

  ‘I don’t know. You weren’t exactly kidnapped, were you?’

  ‘Well, marooned then, deliberately marooned.’

  ‘You’ll have to talk to Martin later. Now, why don’t you go and have a rest before dinner – you must be exhausted.’

  ‘Yes, OK, thanks, but I have to say goodbye to Drew first.’

  ‘Goodness, he’s already gone – when you were in the shower just now.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I mean, I explained that you were otherwise occupied, and I think he said something about having said goodbye to you already. He was in a terrific rush – I can’t remember if he said anything else.’

  ‘Oh.’

  When Lucy disappeared to talk to her servants, Claire walked slowly round the garden reliving her last conversation with Drew. Did he care for her or didn’t he? Surely, if he had really wanted to, he could have postponed his trip to Australia a little longer? Last night when they’d made love, it seemed as if he genuinely cared for her and yet now, without even saying goodbye properly, he had disappeared.

  She stared down at the grass looking in vain for some kind of tropical daisy so that she could play ‘He loves me, he loves me not’ with the petals – it would be as reliable a guide to Drew’s feelings as any indication he had given.

  Howard, on the other hand, had always made his feelings perfectly clear. Poor Howard! She suddenly realized that she’d hardly given him a thought until now. He must be frantic with worry about her. She went inside to ask Lucy if she might ring him straight away.

  He sounded overjoyed to hear her voice. ‘Can I come round to see you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, of course, I expect Lucy won’t mind – I’ll just ask her – yes, she says that’s fine. Maybe after dinner would be best. I’ll have had my little chat with Martin by then. About nine o’clock.’

  ‘Claire, we have to have a serious talk.’

  ‘Oh, I . . . I’ll see you later.’

  Dinner was served by three maids. Claire sat with Lucy and Martin at one end of an astonishingly long
mahogany table. Her hosts seemed quite at ease in these formal surroundings: Lucy, who had always appeared so awkward in her role as a grand lady and diplomatic hostess, seemed to have grown into the job. And she was somehow prettier this evening. Her eyes sparkled and occasionally she touched her husband’s arm.

  In the candle light, Martin looked distinguished, but younger and less grey than usual, and Claire noticed the tenderness with which he responded to Lucy’s quiet, sometimes rather dull, conversational remarks. They really love each other, she thought with envy. Her own euphoria at being rescued had been dampened by Drew’s departure, but she talked a great deal and drank an enthusiastic amount of wine.

  After dinner, Martin and Claire were left alone. His long face took on a stern and official expression. ‘You’ve caused a lot of trouble, Claire.’

  Suddenly conscious of her own unimportance in the scheme of life, she felt like a small naughty schoolgirl in the presence of an authoritarian headmaster. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she said, ‘but you see I felt I was doing the right thing – Pel was murdered and Jean-Louis was respon—’

  ‘Lucy has told me all about it.’

  Not quite all, I bet, thought Claire.

  ‘You don’t have any actual evidence, do you?’ he continued. ‘No actual proof that the body on the beach was Pel?’

  ‘But I overheard . . .’

  ‘Then it is not certain that any crime has been committed and, if it came to a trial, it would be your word against that of Vandenberg.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. But he’s such a creep. I bet he’s got all sorts of skeletons in the cupboard. There’s all his antique smuggling.’

  He frowned. ‘Do you have any proof, any documents?’

  ‘No, but the police could get some, I’m sure. There was this mysterious locked filing cabinet and then when I got hold of the key, it was empty.’ Even as she said the words, she realized how unconvincing this piece of non-evidence sounded. ‘And Meng, the archaeologist, is involved,’ she added more firmly.

  ‘The man whose house you tried to burgle?’

  ‘We . . . er, I didn’t steal anything. I just tried to photograph and retrieve Pel’s ivory bird,’ said Claire, feeling increasingly foolish.

  ‘And where is this ornament now?’

  ‘I don’t know. Still at Meng’s, I suppose.’

  ‘So you have no evidence,’ he repeated.

  ‘No, I haven’t because idiotically I left behind my camera, phone and tablet on Kim Kwan’s island. I don’t suppose I’ll ever get them back. I hope I’ve got stuff backed up on the so-called Cloud, but nothing recent.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  His braying, expressionless voice was beginning to annoy her and the combination of wine and tiredness made her aggressive. ‘But I was kidnapped, marooned, made a sort of hostage – I’m a British citizen. Surely the Embassy must take action?’

  ‘I don’t think any local court would believe your story. Jean-Louis Vandenberg is highly respected here. As of course is Kim Kwan. Both are very influential people. And your enforced stay on the island is not so unusual. Ferries here are not reliable.’

  Claire interrupted, ‘But Liana . . .’

  ‘Liana and Drew may have exaggerated the danger of your position. I don’t know why. As I said, you’re not the first person to have missed an irregular ferry boat in these parts.’

  ‘Missed a ferry boat?’ she said indignantly. ‘But I was held deliberately – for five whole days. Ask Liana.’

  ‘Liana has already made it clear that her part in this strange matter must be kept quiet, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she has, I forgot, but Drew—’

  ‘Drew has gone to Australia,’ he said patiently.

  So he has, she thought. ‘He might come back,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘Perhaps, but he will want to protect Liana.’

  ‘Yes. I don’t understand, but I suppose he will.’ She felt the ground slipping away from under her feet. She began again. ‘But you can’t just let Jean-Louis get off. I don’t know what you’re trying to say. D’you think I made the whole thing up? That I marooned myself deliberately?’

  ‘No, but it may all have been just a misunderstanding. You must realize things are not always what they seem in a country like this.’

  Incredulous, she opened and shut her mouth. ‘So you don’t believe it. You don’t believe I was held against my will, kidnapped?’

  ‘Who knows? I’m not a policeman, Claire. I’m a diplomat,’ he said suavely, ‘And the diplomatic thing to do, just in case you actually were and are still in danger, is for you to leave the country.’

  Shaking with anger and shock, Claire stood up. ‘Leave the country? Why should I? I’m not the guilty one. It’s not me who—’

  ‘It so happens that someone is willing to give you a first-class plane ticket to the UK on condition that you go tomorrow.’

  She stared at him. ‘Who?’

  ‘If I tell you, will you keep the whole subject confidential?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’ What the hell was going on?

  ‘You must give me your word, Claire.’

  ‘All right, all right, I give my word. Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  ‘If you leave Maising, your death is unlikely.’

  ‘D’you mean you believe that if I stay I’m still in danger?’

  ‘You may be. I don’t know. Now just listen: British Coachworks are in an advanced stage of negotiations. They hope to get the contract to supply the capital with two hundred new buses this year and a further five hundred during the following years, plus a parts and maintenance agreement. You see what this means for future British exports in the area?’

  ‘Yes, I think so, but . . .’

  ‘Jean-Louis Vandenberg happens to be a director and a major shareholder of the Maising Bus Company. He has a great deal of influence with the local Minister of Transport and is a friend of the Prime Minister. If the British Embassy makes allegations that he’s guilty of various crimes, allegations that we can’t prove, then it’s unlikely that Britain will get the bus contract.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, if you were to create a fuss and antagonize Jean-Louis, then British Coachworks would be out of the running and would have to lay off workers instead of taking on extra men to cope with the new contract. Men in the North East, a very depressed area, would lose their jobs and possibly their homes, all because of you.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, subdued. Then she rallied herself. ‘But you seem to have forgotten Pel. We don’t even know why he was murdered. What if Jean-Louis is a dangerous person who should be stopped, in case he murders someone else?’

  ‘There you go again with your wild accusations. We have no reason to suppose Pel was the body on the beach. In fact, I heard that the police identified it as that of a Chinese criminal.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’ Claire marched up and down.

  ‘Why don’t you believe it? You just jumped to the wrong conclusion, Claire, and now you’re reluctant to admit it. Could you go to court and swear it was Pel?’

  ‘No, but . . .’

  ‘You must understand that nothing is straightforward here. In England when you turn up a stone, you’ll merely find a few harmless woodlice. Here you may find something poisonous and deadly. So in the East it is best to leave stones where they are. We Europeans must try to be pragmatic and sensible, rather than behave like idealistic boy scouts.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘I know that on television if there’s a body, then the police or the private eye investigates and the murderer is brought to justice. It’s not always like that in real life. Especially in this part of the world where accidental death is a commonplace occurrence. As I said, the police have made their own enquiries into the drowned man, whoever he may be, and are satisfied. It’s a local matter, though, nothing to do with us. There’s nothing you can or should do about it. Far better to be sensible. In fact, you
are doing something positive by being sensible. Don’t you see that by leaving the country quietly, you can, indirectly, benefit a lot of unemployed people in England?’

  ‘Oh, and what if I say I want to stay? Stay here and just keep quiet about everything.’

  ‘I repeat, it may not be safe for you to stay, particularly if you may have, inadvertently, questioned the honour of Kim Kwan, who is even more influential than Jean-Louis. And perhaps more ruthless. There is no point in putting yourself at risk for someone who is already dead. That is, according to you.’

  No longer sure of anything, Claire gave up the battle. ‘Then it seems I have no choice.’ After a pause she said, ‘Am I permitted to go and collect my clothes from my flat? Oh, yes, and my camera – my photos and notes on Kwan’s collection and my overnight case – they’re still on the island. And what about Grace, my cat?’

  ‘One of our security officers will accompany you to your flat and Lucy can help too. We’ll have the cat here, if no other good home can be found for it. Lucy likes animals. You can take the usual large suitcase with you and British Coachworks will pay for the rest of your effects to be air-freighted back home, along with your camera and so forth, if indeed they are returned. If they are not returned, you will be given an allowance to replace them.’

  ‘Liana said they would be returned.’

  ‘I’ll speak to her,’ he said. ‘Now, do you want me to telephone your parents and ask them to meet you at the airport?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll fix things up myself. You and British Coachworks seem to be tying me up and forwarding me like a parcel, but I suppose I should be grateful.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Actually that sounds awful – I mean, I am truly very grateful for your hospitality. And for backing up Drew and Liana. It’s just been a bit of a shock. I’m sorry, well, I’m sorry if I’ve been a nuisance.’

  ‘Not at all. We’re here to help.’ He smiled, suddenly charming again now that she had fallen in with the official recommendations.

  ‘Of course I could sell my story to the Daily Mirror when I get back,’ she said. ‘I WAS ISLAND SEX SLAVE, SAYS BRITISH GIRL, BUT EMBASSY LETS KIDNAPPERS GO FREE.’