Singapore Girl: An edge of your seat thriller that will have you hooked (An Ash Carter Thriller Book 2)

by Murray Bailey

  I said, “The Man killed Jeevan, didn’t he?”

  Turner nodded.

  “A warning to you, so that you wouldn’t talk?”

  “Everyone is afraid of him. They say he’s evil.”

  “Who is he? Come on, Robin, it’s just you and me now. The Man killed your friend, for God’s sake.”

  “I mean, I’d like to tell you, I just can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I never met him.”

  “But you dealt with someone.”

  “Petersen.”

  “He’s the man who took the girls from you?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Petersen was my contact.”

  “And where is Petersen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sick of people claiming they don’t know. Frankly I don’t believe you.” I looked out of the window. “Maybe I should hand you over to Slugger Stevenson.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing. If I give you some information I want your protection, OK?”

  I raised my eyebrows and waited.

  He said, “The airfield. Find that and you’ll find the Man’s plane. If he tries to run for it, he’ll use that plane.” And then he described where I’d find the airfield.

  FORTY-FOUR

  The Land Rovers took both prisoners away but I asked Cole to stay with me. I was just starting to think that Stevenson had let me down when he arrived in one of the humanitarian aid Land Rovers.

  “You’re late,” I said.

  “Better late than never,” he said with a grunt. “Now, who murdered my man Jeevan?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way.”

  I pointed to the passenger seat and asked Cole to get in. I sat behind them.

  “Where to?” Stevenson asked me.

  “Woodlands Crossing,” I said. “And let’s not go the scenic route.”

  As we drove, I told them what I knew. Lipscombe was identifying teenage girls through his adoption centre and Turner had flown them south. He used Jeevan as his fall guy because of their history.

  Turner delivered to Petersen but where Petersen was taking them wasn’t clear and three girls seemed to have escaped. One had made it as far at Kuala Lumpur. The other two probably died earlier. Doctor Thobhani suspected that Monalisa Cardoso had been sexually abused.

  Cole said, “You spoke to Kishan?”

  “Yes.”

  We approached the crossing and Stevenson jumped the queue. When we got to the barrier the guard saluted Cole and we were immediately on the causeway.

  Stevenson said, “Oh to be an MP!”

  I said, “Stop about halfway along.”

  As we slowed, I said, “Men were searching for the missing girls on Route One heading for KL. They used a blue van and Land Rover. An ambulance picked up the dead girl from the KL hospital. It was also blue.”

  We stopped and got out.

  I continued: “We think the body found here two weeks ago was dropped by a blue meat wagon.”

  Cole nodded.

  “It bothered me that Customs described it as a meat wagon rather than a butcher’s van.”

  “Does sound odd,” Stevenson said.

  “It was odd because it was just a blue van,” I said. “There was meat packed in ice, because they needed cover for the dead body. They knew Customs would check so they made it look like a butcher’s van. I think they used the same vehicle as the ambulance.”

  “Same people,” Cole said.

  “I’m certain of it. The only problem is, I was looking for a drugs problem.”

  Cole said, “There was a drugs problem.”

  “But the murder relates to the girls.” I glanced at Stevenson and nodded.

  The aid worker was standing behind Cole. He looped his arms under the MP’s and then locked them behind the man’s neck.

  Cole struggled briefly. “What the hell are you playing at?”

  “What did you know?” I asked.

  “None of that!”

  “Who was the body?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “You lied to me. Why should I believe you now?”

  Cole shook his head vehemently. “I’ve never lied to you, Ash.”

  “You said the markings were 221.”

  “That’s what I thought. And no one disagreed with me!”

  “What about RZ?”

  “Kishan… the doc thinks it was RZ.”

  I laughed mirthlessly and Stevenson lightened his grip. I was sure passing travellers must have wondered what was going on—two men threatening an MP—but no one came to his aid.

  I said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you found the source of the drugs—the Chinese gang. Vernon said the case was over. And you know Vernon. I didn’t think it was important anymore.”

  I said, “Let him go, Scott.”

  Cole stepped away and rubbed his neck. His reaction could have gone one of two ways. If he was aggressive now, I’d know he had something to hide. He wasn’t.

  He said, “Sorry.”

  I said, “You’re an investigator, Jim. We had a body and no explanation. You shouldn’t have given up—despite Vernon.”

  He shrugged. “But it was no longer a military issue. It will have been passed on to the civilian police.”

  I signalled to Stevenson and we got back into the Land Rover. I sat in the passenger seat.

  Cole placed a hand on the rear, ready to climb in. “What now?” he asked.

  “You can walk back,” I said.

  He removed his hand and looked sheepish. “What can I do?”

  “To make amends? You can start by making sure no one gets at our prisoners. And try and get more out of Turner. He may know more than he realizes. Secondly, you can find out which police are dealing with the body on the causeway now that Vernon has rejected it.”

  Stevenson pulled away and we headed for the Malayan boarder. I imagined Lieutenant Cole watching us but didn’t turn back.

  “That felt good,” Stevenson said.

  “Because you hate MPs.”

  “Is it that obvious?” He laughed. “So where now?”

  “The adoption centre,” I said. “Petersen is the key to this and we need to find him.”

  The adoption centre was locked up and Stevenson shouldered open the door.

  We wasted thirty minutes searching the records for anything about Petersen. I also checked for the names of the girls with ticks in Lipscombe’s ledger. We found nothing.

  Miss Liang hadn’t been lying when she’d said there was no record of Laura or Monalisa. And yet I couldn’t help feeling she was hiding something.

  When I’d questioned Lipscombe at the port in Penang, his eyes had told me something. He knew the names Petersen and Yipp but he hadn’t recognized Liang. Either she wasn’t involved or she was one step removed.

  I remembered thinking that Miss Liang was either clever or scared. Which was it?

  “What now?” Stevenson asked. “Shall we wreck this place?”

  I stared at him.

  He said, “From what you’ve told me, it’s dodgy as hell. Let’s trash it.”

  “No,” I said, and walked out of Liang’s office. “We go back and follow the trail,” I said.

  “Cop speak?”

  “Petersen is the link so we’re going to the school. The chap who runs it is Petersen’s friend.”

  “So he should know where the bugger lives.”

  “Right.”

  Stevenson grudgingly kicked the Land Rover back into life and followed my directions north-west of the town until we came to Bukit Zarah and the drive up to the school.

  “Wait outside,” I said as we stopped by the heavy metal gates.

  The sun beat down directly overhead, casting shadows under the stone eagles. I realized they were a contrast—out of keeping with the istana. In fact, the whole surrounding wall was ugly compared to the old Malayan property. This time I also noticed a plaque by the gate bell. It said: Rafflesia.


  “It’s like a fortress,” Stevenson said.

  “And run like one.”

  I rang the bell but no one came. After trying again without response, Stevenson sounded the horn.

  Eventually a man came out of the front door and walked to the gates. This wasn’t the Brit I’d met before.

  “How can I help you?” he said with the hint of an Australian accent.

  “I’m here to see Major Rix.”

  “You came before,” he said, like it meant I should only visit once.

  “Is that a problem?” I smiled. “I really need your boss’s help.”

  He glanced at the house and I wondered if he was looking for instructions but then he immediately pulled out a key and unlocked the gates.

  I left Stevenson in the Land Rover and the gates were shut behind me. As we walked to the house, I noticed the distinctive bulge of a gun under the man’s jacket.

  “Expecting trouble,” I asked.

  “You can never be too careful,” he said, then added, “Bandits, mate.”

  “Australian?” I asked. “Did you serve with Major Rix?”

  “I did.”

  When we reached the front door it was opened by another man. They exchanged nods and I was passed over like a relay baton.

  He said, “This way please.” His Australian accent was less pronounced but he also had a concealed gun. He took me to the same waiting room as before, the one with the chesterfields and rosewood. I wasn’t kept waiting long before the elegant assistant collected me. She knocked on the headmaster’s door and we entered. This time she followed me in.

  Rix stepped smartly forward and shook my hand with his piano fingers.

  “What a surprise to see you once more, Mr Carter. How can I help you again?”

  “I really need to find Petersen.”

  “You asked me last time.”

  “I appreciate that, but last time he was just a piece in the puzzle. Now I know he’s critical.”

  “Critical?”

  “As in, important to the case.”

  He looked quizzical. “Which case? I heard you’d cracked a big drugs deal.”

  “How did you—?”

  He laughed. “Goodness, it’s a small community really. I hear things on the grapevine. Especially when they are so big.”

  I glanced towards the lady. She stood silently in a corner watching intently.

  I said, “It seems the case is bigger or maybe different. And it looks like Petersen could really help.”

  Rix looked me in the eye. “I told you last time I didn’t know where he was.”

  “You haven’t seen him since?”

  “No.”

  “But you know where he lives?”

  Rix hesitated. “No. Well, not really. Somewhere in JB. I don’t know the address. Perhaps the adoption centre can tell you?”

  I looked at his Japanese artefacts: the kimono, the sword, the brass paperweight. I picked up the paperweight, solid and heavy. A good weapon. I glanced at the papers that had been weighed down.

  I said, “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “What?” There was an edge of doubt in his tone.

  “This fascination with the Japanese. You must have lost thousands of men in the war.”

  “I don’t like what they did, but I respect them as warriors and strategists.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I just remembered you had an MP with you last time. On your own now?”

  “Someone is waiting at the gates for me.”

  “I thought the RMP wasn’t interested anymore.”

  I said, “It seems the grapevine was wrong this time.”

  He nodded and glanced at the paperweight still in my palm. I replaced it on the desk.

  I said, “Why have your men got weapons?”

  “You know the answer to that, Mr Carter. These are still troubled times. The parents who send their children do so in the knowledge that security is one of the highest priorities.”

  I said, “I’d like to see your register. Who boards here?”

  He smiled. “That’s private.”

  “Was Monalisa Cardoso a pupil?”

  “I don’t know that name.”

  He took a breath and I could see I was testing his patience.

  In her precise English, the lady said, “This Petersen fellow… what’s he done?”

  “Buying young girls for the sex trade. At least, that’s what I think.”

  “Oh!” She placed her hands to her face and swivelled to look at Rix. “It would be a disaster… If the parents thought there was any scandal linked to the school…”

  Rix raised a hand to placate her. “Don’t worry, Sarah. I haven’t seen him and there is no connection.”

  Now the lady looked at me. “There has been a finishing school here for over fifty years, Mr Carter. We are well respected and produce fine young ladies. If there were a scandal… Well, please, all I ask is that you don’t drag us into this.”

  I said, “You’ve nothing to fear.”

  She nodded and smiled for the first time.

  I nodded at Rix. “If Mr Petersen does make contact or you hear of him, please would you ask him to contact me?”

  “You have an address?” He picked up a pen.

  I gave him the name of the hotel in the town—the King George—and he wrote it down.

  He said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  When I exited his office, there were now two men to escort me, one on either side. The guard with the German shepherd was also at the gate.

  As we walked, I said, “Either of you know Petersen?”

  Neither of them looked at me. Neither of them responded.

  The dog pulled tight on its lead. It didn’t bark but I reckoned it could attack on command.

  “Nice dog,” I said to the guard.

  He nodded and stepped aside so that the man on my right could open the gate.

  I walked through. The gate clanged shut behind me. The key was turned.

  I raised my hand in a friendly farewell and got in beside Stevenson.

  “Well,” he said. “Find out about Petersen?”

  In a voice loud enough to be overheard I said, “Major Rix has been a great help. Let’s go.”

  Stevenson turned the vehicle around and headed down the hill.

  “What’s going on?” he said.

  “The good major isn’t being totally honest.”

  “He knows where Petersen is?”

  “Maybe, but he seemed at war with himself. He was trying to be nice but didn’t want to be.”

  “Those men were armed.”

  “Because of bandits, they said.”

  “There isn’t a problem around here.”

  “No, but like I said before, he runs it like a military operation. However, I noticed something else this time. The windows all have bars. What kind of school has bars at the windows?”

  Stevenson didn’t answer straight away.

  I said, “I told Rix I was staying at the King George Hotel.”

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  We reached the outskirts of Johor Bahru. Stevenson was still thinking.

  Eventually he said, “We should go back and challenge them some more. This time let me ask some questions.”

  “No,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand. I thought you followed the trail.”

  “Oh, I do.” I gave him some directions before adding:

  “I’m going back. Only next time, it’ll be after dark.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  Someone should pay for Jeevan’s murder and that was why Stevenson wanted action. But I needed more evidence. The hobnailed boots approach only got you so far.

  We arrived at the King George Hotel in the town and this time I checked in. The room was on the first floor and smaller than my room at the European and Oriental had been. But it was clean and practical and most importantly had a window that opened out to a backyard.

  After rejoining Stevenson
, we took a stroll around the local shops. I bought a dark shirt, black trousers and a pair of gloves.

  We had lots of time to kill, so after changing into my new outfit, we sat in the hotel lobby and bounced around a few ideas.

  Stevenson grumbled because he didn’t like waiting.

  “All right,” I finally said, “we’ll do something. You can take me to Tebrau airfield.”

  “To punch Squadron Leader Kennedy?”

  “No. I’m going to ask for his help.”

  Stevenson wasn’t happy but he drove anyway, and when we got there I asked him to interview everyone about the explosion.

  “What am I looking for?” he asked.

  In all honesty, it was a distraction, but maybe he would find something. So he dropped me outside the office and I went in to see Squadron Leader Kennedy alone.

  He sat at his desk looking depressed as I told him what I knew.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Are you sure? First the plane blowing up and now you tell me Robin—”

  “Turner confessed he’d altered the flight logs.”

  He looked at me long and hard, and I saw worry in his eyes. He said, “I have two questions for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Jeevan… Can you be sure Robin didn’t cause the explosion?”

  “Turner is afraid of someone they call the Man.” I studied his face as I said this and saw no recognition. “This man is likely to be the cause of the explosion and also the body on the causeway. He controls people through fear. That’s not your man. Turner is guilty of trafficking, but not murder.”

  Kennedy let out a long breath, like I’d eased his biggest worry. Then his face creased with concern.

  “Trafficking?” He shook his head trying to process the word. “Trafficking not smuggling? That’s an odd word.”

  “Girls,” I said.

  His eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”

  “At one point—when he was at RAF Changi—he was a small-time smuggler, but since he’s been here, it’s been young women.”

  “Prostitution?”

  I nodded. “It seems likely.”

  He said, “I never saw any… girls.”

  I said, “The second thing? You had two questions.”

  “Me. Do you suspect I’m involved?”

  “Are you?”