by Terry Morgan
CHAPTER 25
Anna was watching a Tom and Gerry cartoon on TV when I got back to the hotel. As I'd seen it before and knew the outcome I sat with a piece of hotel notepaper trying to make sense of what I currently knew. It wasn't much.
I wrote down all the individual names and company names and tried conecting them with hard lines or dotted lines. There were still too may gaps. I wrote the name Mohamed Kader and connecting lines to a list of his company names that was becoming longer and longer. I wrote the name Livingstone Pharmaceuticals and then Greg O'Brian. Already I didn't he like the man but knew I mustn't let this get in the way just yet. I drew a thick line between Livingstone, Greg O'Brian and Mohamed Kader.
Then there was Ching Seng, Hong Kong, owned now by Shah Corporation or Al Zafar, which meant Mohamed Kader. There was Shah Medicals, Singapore - owned by Mohamed Kader through Al Zafar and O'Brian was probably in Singapore right now talking to David Chua.
To me it looked as if some sort of distribution network was being created. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but the parties did not have quite the sophisticated look of other multinational organisations I have dealt with. This one didn't look right and didn't smell right.
And, if my intuition was right then I should have been able to draw a line between the Al Zafar/Kader/Livingstone group and the Biox/Virex group but I couldn't. And so I was right back to the gut feeling that there was something that Charles Brady and, or, Amos Gazit had not yet told me.
Short of any further inspiration, I drafted an email to Colin in London.
"I know it's Saturday but I'm assuming you were not planning to watch that dismal team of yours - Chelsea FC - today. On that assumption, can I please have a breakdown (usual stuff) on the following: Livingstone Pharmaceuticals and their C/E Greg O'Brian. It's urgent, of course..Yours, Dan Dare."
I hit "send" and lay back to watch Tom chasing Jerry. But as I said, I'd seen it before and knew how it ended. Jerry won. And I was hungry.
"Lunch, Anna? I've got no other lady to take out today."
"Mmm," said Anna. "Thai, please."
Two thirty, Thai lunch in Clarke Quay over and it was time to meet Caroline again. I got the taxi to drop off Anna at the hotel and then went on to the British High Commission. In the commercial section I asked for Caroline and she emerged carrying a thin, buff coloured folder.
"Come," she beckoned to me. "Sorry I can't give you a kiss here, dear. Not the thing to do with pictures of Her Majesty looking down on one. Shame really. Had a bit of a hangover last night."
"So, did you dig up anything useful about Shah Medicals?" I asked as we walked into a small, empty meeting room. A coffee pot with two cups was already on a tray.
"A little. But I found Clive Tasker’s address in Cyprus. I re-read his Christmas card, bless him. I always keep them a while. I've written it on here for you." She handed me a neatly typed scrap of paper. "Give him a call," Caroline continued. He's probably bored to death, poor soul. You could help liven him up a bit."
She then opened her buff folder.
"I always keep these reports on local distributors - sector by sector. This piece on Shah Medicals was updated only six months ago. Here, have a look while I pour you a coffee."
I browsed the contents for a while in silence but it told me little more than I knew already about the background and Arab involvement. Al Zafar Agencies was mentioned. An address in Cairo was noted. But my eye was drawn to some scribbled notes at the bottom. Presumably Caroline's, it read: "Company looking for new principals manufacturing anti-virals and antibiotics etc........."
I looked up to find Caroline's eyes staring at me through her glasses. "Did you meet David Chua?" I asked.
"Yes," Caroline said. "Wiry little chap. Bundle of nervous energy. Made me feel stressed and I was only with him a short time." Then she went on: "This wiry little chap, Chua, has history, though - you might be interested. He's just your sort of chap, Rupert dear. He came up through some rather sordid roots - his family were criminals - Chinese mafia - this was before the really tough clampdowns. He was also arrested a year or so back for being involved in a group called Singapore 2100. But just your type of character, I thought when I read it this morning."
"So is he a good boy, now?"
"How do I know, dear. I could probably delve a bit if you wanted but it's unlikely we could come up with anything - not our business - but, once a crook, always a crook, eh?" Caroline laughed heartily.
"And what is this group Singapore 2100?" I asked.
"Search me dear. Something to do with right wing extremism and authoritarian rule if I recall. Wouldn't have thought that bothered the government here though, would you.......?" Caroline stopped. "Sorry, shouldn't have said that. Slap my hand. Wash my mouth out with Dettol." She grinned.
"What did you find out about the Arab connection, Al Zafar?"
"That they were the financial backers. I got the impression that Chua was nervous of him - or impressed by his money - I couldn't tell which - it's the Chinese inscrutable nature."
I thought about the "nervous" bit for a second. It hadn't struck me last night but maybe what I had interpreted as admiration was, in fact, fear.
"So, is that it?" I said, and handed the report back to Caroline.
"Sorry if you're not impressed, Rupert dear. But there are limitations. Anything else I can do before I throw you out into the humidity again?" She smiled at me - rather affectionately, I thought. "Missed you a bit you know," she added. "And I'm still not sure what your real name is, but I always had a liking for men of mystery. When are you leaving?"
"Tonight," I replied. "I’ve got to move on, but thanks for everything Caroline, much appreciated. I'll certainly try to catch up with Clive. He calls me Ian, by the way."
Caroline looked confused but we shook hands formally and she saw me to the door. But then she looked furtively around and suddenly planted another kiss. Almost as tall as my six feet and so not having to reach very far, her gesture was quick and discreet. I thanked her once again and then walked off down the driveway between lawns and trees, looking back as I went. Caroline had already gone.
As I walked, I took out the typed note with Clive Tasker's address and telephone number. So Clive was living in Troodos, Cyprus. I recalled a weekend there several years ago - two days of escape into the cool hills of fragrant pine trees and away from the hot and humid coastal sun. It would be nice to go back sometime.