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

by Murray Bailey

  I hate doing a chokehold but at least she’d wake up with a slight headache rather than a bruise from my pistol butt.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, as I dragged her body over between the desk and window.

  I stuck the address book in my pocket, stepped into the hall and shut the door. Opposite, the other door was still closed and the voices still relaxed. And if it had stayed that way I would have been fine. However, as I reached the back door, I heard Rix distinctly and the door handle jerked down.

  I barely had time to move, but I sidestepped into the plant by the door. If he looked my way, I’d be seen. He didn’t.

  Four long strides took him to the office door. I might have wondered why he knocked before entering but I didn’t have time. As soon as he moved out of the hall, I was out of the back door. Only, I’d also snatched the key and turned it in the lock from the outside.

  This time, I didn’t crawl. I ran down the path and then veered off and found the place where I’d jumped down.

  There was no rope.

  Stevenson was supposed to have thrown the rope over so I could climb back. But it wasn’t there.

  And then I spotted the reason. There was another man, someone patrolling the perimeter. I figured Stevenson couldn’t risk him spotting the rope.

  I saw the guard’s torchlight flash across the garden close by. He wasn’t hurrying. He was coming my way, not because he’d seen me, but more out of curiosity, it seemed. Maybe he was used to hearing rats, squirrels and monkeys too.

  I shrank against the wall, moving into the shadow of the building where the girl had gone. I could climb onto this building but the distance to the wall was too far to jump. Maybe I could take a vehicle from the garage and ram my way out. The only problem with that idea was that the approaching guard was between me and the garage.

  I could try and scale the gates, although I’d have to deal with the dog if it was still there.

  Before I needed to decide, I heard it: a shrill whistle. Not a bird. Not a monkey. Stevenson trying to get my attention.

  The guard had disappeared behind my building, going around the back. I saw the wall light up only thirty feet away.

  A crashing sound came from the house. Someone kicked the back door. The guard close by, startled by the noise, started to run to the school.

  The back door crashed open and Rix appeared and was shouting. “Intruder!”

  His second shout was aimed at the guard: “Not this way, you idiot!” Then he turned back to the house and shouted, “Lights! Get the lights on!”

  The dog started barking again. The sound seemed to come from the front, so at least I knew where it was, and the gates now seemed my only option.

  Just as I was about to run that way, the rope clattered over the wall.

  I snatched it up and felt Stevenson’s resistance on the other end.

  I didn’t look back, but I could hear more men in the garden now. Rix was still yelling for lights. And then he got them.

  The world exploded with light all around me, much brighter than earlier. My shadow looked large and obvious on the pale grey wall.

  I doubt anyone in the history of mankind has scaled a ten-foot wall as fast as I did that night. As I scrabbled onto the coat, the first bullet pinged close by. Then a volley of shots rang out, but I was already falling beyond the top.

  I landed ignominiously on my backside. Stevenson yanked me to my feet and we started running. Would we reach the Land Rover in time? Would they guess where we’d gone? Could they circle around and meet us on the other side of the pig farm?

  We burst out of the trees only yards away from our parked Land Rover.

  As Stevenson kicked the jeep into life, I saw his hands shaking. But it wasn’t through fear, because he shouted “Woohoo!” as we shot past the farm and down the hill.

  I was still thinking about them coming at us from the other side.

  “We’ve not got away yet,” I shouted breathlessly into the rushing air.

  “So which way?” he shouted back.

  “Any way you like, but fast.”

  They may have expected us to head to the town, keeping to main roads. Because of this, Stevenson turned south as soon as he could, and then east and then south again.

  We headed down a narrow sandy track before he pulled off and stopped.

  I said, “Are we lost?”

  “Not at all. This is a pretty spot. The straits are just over there.” He pointed into the darkness. “I brought a girl here once.”

  We sat and listened. Stevenson smoked.

  The air was full of animal noise; it almost always was. Occasionally we heard a far-off engine, but nothing came close.

  I said, “So what happened to our plan?”

  “The rope after you’d gone over? It was a rubbish plan.” I saw him grinning at me in the dark, enjoying this.

  “The guard?”

  “Yes, the guard. Lucky for you, I climbed up a tree to watch and saw him patrolling. I reckoned he’d have seen the rope long before you came back out.”

  “So you waited.” I was thinking that he could have at least thrown me the rope a bit sooner.

  “More than that, College Cop. I saw to the hound.”

  “What?”

  “The dog.”

  “I know a hound is a dog, for Christ’s sake.” He was baiting me but I played along. I’d been in and out without getting shot and I’d learned more than I could have hoped for. Although he didn’t know that yet. So I said, “What do you mean you saw to it?”

  “You wanted to know what was in the bag. Well it was beef stew and dumplings. Dogs love a bit of beef stew. I lured him to the gate and tied him up while he was eating the stew.”

  “Ingenious.”

  “I thought so.”

  I let him gloat for a minute.

  “And the big question? Was it worth it? Breaking into the school and almost getting shot?”

  I patted my pocket. “Get me to the hotel and we’ll see.”

  Stevenson parked at the front of the King George and I went inside alone. My new clothes were soaked and dirty from crawling across the garden. As the receptionist handed me my room key, I made a big thing about being caught in the rain.

  When he said, “Have a good night, Mr Carter,” I was sure he’d remember my name.

  Once in my room, I cleaned up and changed. Putting a pillow under the covers, I bunched up my bed like I was in it and then climbed out of the window.

  I dropped into the backyard and found Stevenson waiting for me on the road. We walked into the town and caught the first taxi we found.

  “What now?” he asked

  “Drop me at the European and Oriental Hotel,” I said. You can go back to base.

  “You were going to tell me what you discovered at the school.”

  “And I will,” I said. “But first I want some sleep. And then I want to think. Meet me in the morning for breakfast.”

  He grabbed my arm. “You’re not getting away with that!”

  I grinned. “All right, I’ll tell you that I discovered that the name of the school is important. Rafflesia is a flower. I saw it on a letterhead, like a logo or something.”

  He wasn’t happy with that explanation but it was all I would say. I shook his hand, thanked him for all his help and repeated: “Meet me in the morning for breakfast.”

  However, when I got up, it wasn’t Stevenson in the hotel lobby but someone totally unexpected.

  FORTY-NINE

  Jane Dobson was curled up asleep in an armchair.

  “How long has she been here?” I asked a member of staff.

  “About two hours, sir. She seemed unsure whether you were staying at the hotel.”

  Maybe she heard my voice because she opened her eyes, stretched and smiled uncertainly.

  I stepped over and gave her a hug. “What the hell, Jane…?”

  “You’re cross with me.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  She stretched again
and I saw how tired she was. She said, “Let’s have some coffee and I’ll explain.”

  A few minutes later we were sitting at a table and she was on her second cup. Strong, black and sweet.

  “I’ve been travelling since you left me in Penang,” she began. “The ferry and then the train. I gambled that you were here. If not, my next step was Singapore.”

  “You were lucky,” I said. “I almost stayed at a different hotel.”

  “I just couldn’t sit and do nothing.”

  “What about your job?”

  “This is more important.”

  I nodded, but I hadn’t wanted her involved. I didn’t know how this would play out and she had no idea of the risks.

  “Well,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “What have you learned? What was Lipscombe up to?”

  I explained about Turner and how he and Jeevan had history. “Turner was transporting the girls and handing them over to Petersen.”

  “The man from the adoption centre.”

  “Right. And I think I’ve seen the airstrip where he delivered them.”

  “What else did he tell you? Do you know where Laura is?”

  “I couldn’t get him to tell me anything. He’s afraid of the person who killed his friend Jeevan. He called him the Man.” And then I said, “I think I know who it is.”

  “Who?”

  “The man who runs the boarding school to the west. It’s called Rafflesia.”

  “Rafflesia—as in the flower?” She stared at me. “The poisonous flower!”

  I nodded. That’s one of the things I’d realized last night. I’d seen a brochure for the school with a flower logo. The girl who’d died in the Kuala Lumpur hospital hadn’t said poisonous flower. I now suspected she’d said Rafflesia and the nurse had thought she meant she’d eaten a poisonous flower.

  I told Jane about last night, how I’d broken in and taken documents from Major Rix’s office. I was hoping to find Petersen’s address but I’d found something much more damning.

  “I thought I’d found a pocket address book at first, but it wasn’t. It had names all right, but no addresses.”

  “Any names I’d know?”

  “Monalisa Cardoso was in there.”

  She took a sharp breath. “And Laura?”

  I hesitated. How should I explain? We were having this conversation much sooner than I could have imagined. I’d hoped to know more by the time Jane and I discussed Laura again.

  I delayed. “I’ll come to that.”

  She looked alarmed and I put my hand on hers.

  “It’s not necessarily bad. Let me explain first.”

  Jane sat back and waited.

  “There are a hundred and fifty-two entries in there. The early ones are written in Japanese, but there’s English names written there too. As far as I can tell, all one hundred and fifty-two are girls.” I paused a beat before continuing: “I don’t know about the Japanese, but the ones in English all have dates that range from four years ago to recently—three months ago.”

  She shook her head. “Dates?”

  “They look like arrival dates. I’ve checked against the list we got from Lipscombe and all the names with ticks are there. The dates match when they left Penang.”

  “And Laura’s was seven weeks ago?” Tears threatened to fill her eyes. “But you said the most recent was three months.”

  “Laura’s doesn’t have a date.” I gripped her hand. “It could be good news.”

  “How?”

  “She never arrived. That’s my theory.”

  Tears flowed freely now. “Because something happened to her?”

  “We don’t know that. Maybe the notes haven’t been updated.” Even as I said it, I knew I didn’t sound convincing.

  I held her until she nodded and eased me away. As she wiped her eyes, I squatted by her chair, just in case, ready to hold her again. She took deep breaths and composed herself.

  “How many girls are there?” Emotion crackled in her voice.

  “That’s the other thing. There are second dates and I suspect those are dates the girls leave the school.” I no longer believed Rafflesia was really a school but the term was better than the alternative I had in my head. “Again, I can’t tell about the early ones, but if I’m right there are sixteen girls remaining. Which would have been twenty including Laura and three crossed off.”

  “Monalisa Cardoso?”

  “One of the three.”

  “And Laura’s not crossed off?”

  “No.”

  “Who are the other two?”

  “Di Yang and Jakaterina Tiurina.”

  “Kate—Jakaterina called herself Kate. Lovely girl, but funny about her name.”

  I nodded but I was thinking. There was something else too. Against each one were other names. My gut told me what these were. I didn’t recognize any but then I suspected they were aliases.

  The girls with leaving dates also had a number. It looked like a price paid. A large price paid. Some girls seemed to get sold immediately. Their prices were lower than the ones who spent time at Rafflesia.

  She was watching me, maybe guessing that I was holding back.

  “So Rix is in partnership with Petersen, running a business on the side?” She swallowed as though the next words wouldn’t come out straight away. “He’s selling girls for the sex trade.”

  I said nothing.

  “Not your theory?”

  “Almost,” I said quietly. “I think it’s the school itself.” I paused and she blinked.

  “It’s not a finishing school?”

  “It’s too heavily protected. There are the high walls and bars at the windows and the men have guns. But most of all because of the name—the poisonous flower.”

  I could see her mind working. She drank more coffee.

  “So, Monalisa, Kate and Di escaped. If they were at the school and if the security is as good as you say, then how did they escape? How did three girls get out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Someone on the inside,” she said.

  It was a reasonable possibility. And that led her to ask me about the people I’d seen at the school. She was particularly interested in the lady. I said Rix had called his assistant Sarah.

  Jane said, “And she was the only one unarmed.”

  “Rix didn’t seem to have a gun and there may have been other employees I didn’t see.”

  “What others?” Stevenson sat down at our table.

  I introduced them to each other and told him about the flower on the brochure and the list of girls.

  “Makes sense,” he said.

  “We were just talking about the number of people involved. There must be a gardener at least, but a business like that, you’d want to keep numbers to a minimum.”

  Jane said, “I think we’re missing the point.”

  “Which is?”

  “There are girls in there being held against their will. We need to report it.” She must have seen my blank face because she added: “To the police.”

  Stevenson laughed. “I thought you were going to tell us to go in all-guns-blazing.”

  “No,” I said, “that’s what you wanted to hear. Jane is right. Breakfast first and then we present our case to the JB police.”

  We could smell the sea from the police station. The causeway was only a few hundred yards beyond the trees, and although it was overcast, the air was fresh and clear.

  We walked around a courtyard, busy with vehicles and men on parade, which then hooked around to a long frontage.

  After speaking to a desk sergeant, we were treated courteously, taken to a private waiting room and given water. A captain called McNaughton eventually joined us. He had a firm handshake and an easy smile.

  McNaughton placed his police cap on the table and smoothed his buff-coloured suit as he sat. The whole move was practised and undoubtedly intended as a subliminal message: I’m in charge here.

  He asked no questions after the prel
iminary introductions and confirmation of our statuses. I appreciated that we must have seemed an odd group: a nurse from Penang, an aid worker from Kota Tinggi, and me, the Singapore government man.

  The captain’s face was unreadable as I spoke. When I’d finished, he said, “Right, thank you for coming in.” He placed a hand on his cap—another subliminal message. “We’ll certainly investigate this.”

  “When?” Jane asked.

  McNaughton bristled. “When we get round to it, young lady.”

  “But—”

  “All I have heard is suspicion and conjecture. Ifs and maybes. You don’t know the girls from Penang are at the school. You don’t—”

  “Were at the school,” Jane cut in. “You should say were at the school. We know that at least one girl is dead.”

  McNaughton nodded as though understanding. However he said, “But you have no evidence that she was taken to the school. And therefore no evidence that she escaped from the school.”

  Jane started to complain but I placed a hand on her arm and she stopped.

  “Look,” he said, sounding apologetic or maybe just placatory, “I said we’ll investigate the claims and we will. Rafflesia school… well it can’t be as you say because the parents are extremely wealthy and powerful people. You mentioned high security. Of course there’s high security. Just imagine if one of those girls was kidnapped!”

  Jane said, “Imagine if three of them escaped and died.”

  McNaughton shook his head.

  “You see, it’s nonsense.” He smiled as if he understood. “If three girls escaped and died then their parents would be here. Not you.”

  “But—”

  He stood up and held out his hand. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s been a tough morning—arson to worry about, it seems. I realize you think you’re on to something but I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding.”

  I said, “Just tell me you’ll investigate.”

  “I’ll visit the school, personally.”

  “That’s all we ask,” I said, and shook his hand.

  We were about to leave when a young police officer came into the room and handed McNaughton a slip of paper. The captain looked at me and then back at the paper.