“No, what we need is the other half of the deal. I think the Irishman had the shipment stored somewhere, and it was handed over when Aidil and Tan made that phone call to Toa Payoh. Now we can’t find it. We don’t even know if it’s still in Singapore, or even if it ever was. It might be in Malaysia for all we know, and time’s running out. They handed over the money three days ago so I expect they’ll be moving it soon, if only to get it out of the Irishman’s grasp.”
“You seem to know so much. There must be something you can do” said Sherry.
Hangchi sighed. “In fact, we’ve got next to nothing to go on. From Sherry’s story, we suspect that Ranji’s father has some involvement, along with his friends, and that Papi Bombar knows more than he should. Still, there’s nothing hard enough to go forward on, and I’m beginning to think that Aidil is hanging around Singapore for a reason. His ticket has given him a full three weeks here, but that can be changed at will. Fortunately he met a friendly Malay taxi driver who is driving him around for a very cheap rate. One of ours, of course. We’ve even provided, through the taxi driver, a charming little girl from Thailand to make sure we keep track of him at night as well. He seems to have enough money to spend and the girl says she’s enjoying herself, but he hasn’t done anything suspicious yet.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to pull Ranji’s father in if we don’t get a break soon. I’d hate to do that because it’ll ruin all the contacts I’ve made on that side of town, and I suspect he’d keep his mouth shut anyway. But I’ll do it on Monday if that’s all we’ve got. I’ll have no other option. Except…”
Tim wished he did not have to ask, but it was inevitable. “Except?”
“Well—oh look. Here’s lunch. Good. I’m feeling hungry.”
Tim and Sherry had chosen trout as recommended by Hangchi. The man himself took a very unhealthy looking steak topped with buttered garlic mushrooms and bacon. He smiled at them apologetically over his steak. “I only do it sometimes, you know. You don’t get meat like this at the food stalls, and the Department’s paying.” He attacked his meat.
Tim wanted to start eating but he wanted Hangchi out in the open first. “You were saying? Except?”
“Well, I know I shouldn’t ask, but could you get something out of Ranji, do you think? She might talk to you where I wouldn’t have a chance.”
Tim looked at Sherry. “What do you think, love? You know her. I’ve only met her once.”
Sherry had stopped with her fork in mid-air while she thought about her friend. “I suppose I could ask, but why would she tell me? “
“Frighten her. Tell her Tim’s been told by an ugly policeman that they’re going to string her grey-haired dad up by his big toes and tickle him with cattle-prods.”
Sherry was shocked. “You’d do that?”
“Of course not! How can you imagine it! Singapore might be new but we’re not uncivilized. We’re not even allowed to have suspects fall down stairs or walk into doors. All our interrogations are recorded, anyway. No, if we did take him in he’d be safe enough, but I know him. He’s sure to believe the worst and I think Ranji will too.”
They left to take a bus to Collyer Quay. They spent the afternoon wandering slowly in a big loop towards South Bridge Road through the small streets of old fashioned shophouses. This part of Singapore, untouched but presumably doomed by progress, retained the heart of the old Imperial trading city. Their grandparents, or even great-grandparents would have been quite at home.
It was not until they were on the top deck of the number 191 heading for Holland Road that Sherry realised she had a question to ask. “You said you’d met Ranji once?”
Tim started to answer and then smiled. “Oh dear. I’m not very good at secrets, am I? Yes, Alistair introduced me when he was telling me about the flute-playing. I wasn’t going to tell you. I didn’t want you to be cross with her. She seemed quite a pleasant girl.”
“Ranji told you about that?”
“Yes. Alistair forced her. Just to confirm what he told me. She didn’t have any choice.”
“Well, Ranji. I suppose I’d guessed it was her, really. Not that it matters any more. If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Me?” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Well, considering all that’s happened since then, and considering that I now have a double bed again, and a wife who’s so hot that she sizzles, well, no. I don’t mind at all.”
Chapter 24
Sherry came out of the shower to find Tim destroying her new black dress with a pair of nail scissors. Her heart crashed. She had fallen in love with that dress. Why was he being so cruel? He looked up with a smile on his face.
“What’s wrong? I’m just making a small adjustment.”
She came closer to look at the mess of fabric spilled over his lap. He had turned the outer layers of chiffon inside out to detach the lining. He was removing the foundation of the dress, and she looked sadly at the wreckage. With a few more careful snips, he threw the lining aside and held the dress up by its straps for her to see. To her surprise the dress retained its shape, but the black folds hanging from his hands were transparent.
He held it up against her damp body. “That’s better,” he said. “Now Ranji will be sick with jealousy. I can’t imagine she’ll be wearing anything like this.” Silently, she took the dress from him and went to prepare herself.
Ranji and Tim were talking quietly as she came downstairs. She felt on display, naked and uncomfortable. Her mirror had told her that every detail, every fold and shadow of her body, was open to see. The fine black fabric flowed over her but hid nothing. Ranji looked up and came running. “Oooh! Look at you! So sexy; so elegant, and you take out the inside of this dress, oh, very clever. She is so clever, isn’t she?”
Tim smiled at them. “Yes, very clever. Really knows how to dress, don’t you think?”
“But this is not fair. You did not tell me. Now I am dressed like my grandmother. Now what can I do?” complained Ranji.
She was wearing a sari of dark green and gold, and Sherry thought she looked magnificent. “You look fine, Ranji. Very beautiful and important.”
“Not true,” she said. “You make me feel, I don’t know. Like an old woman. Next time it will be different. Next time you invite me, I will dress… I will make Tim very hungry. You will see. You will see.”
“Mmmh, Ranji,” said Tim, almost licking his lips. “That sounds very interesting. Let’s invite her again, Sherry.”
Sherry steered Ranji to the sofa. “We’ll see. I’m not sure I trust her with you. She’s a very sexy girl, you know.”
“And that’s bad?” asked Tim. “Is that true, Ranji? I want to see for myself.”
Tim did not bring up the real reason for Ranji’s dinner invitation until Sherry was clearing the plates away.
“I’ve got some bad news for you, Ranji. I think your father’s in trouble.”
“What? How do you know my father?” Ranji was shocked and defensive.
“I don’t. Never met him, but I’ve had a message from Alistair. He says your father’s in trouble.”
“Oh no,” whispered Ranji, “What’s happened now?”
“I don’t know. I’m not involved, but I’ll pass on the message. Apparently your father knows about a shipment of something. I don’t know what. Alistair wouldn’t say. Anyway, he wants to know where the shipment is because the Malaysian police are going to ask the Singaporeans to bring him in for questioning. They say they’ve got enough information to extradite him.”
Ranji slumped in her seat. She seemed to have shrunk.
“Oh no.” She did not know what to say. “When are they coming?”
“Alistair wants to know where the shipment is. He doesn’t want your father but his hands are tied. Unless he can tell the police over there where the shipment is…”
“But he doesn’t have it any more. It’s gone. Sold. The Irishman knows where it is now.”
“Won’t do, Ranji. The Singapore police would be happy to get the Irishman, but they can’t do it without evidence. If your dad could provide details, of course, then they would act.”
“Details about the Irishman? Impossible. He would die before he did that, because if he told anything, we’d all die. Everyone in the family.”
“So what can you tell us? Do you want to call him?”
Ranji hesitated. “Alistair will know I have told you.”
“Well, yes. I guess so, but he knows about your father anyway, so it won’t make much difference. I can tell him to keep quiet, if you like.”
“Yes, he must not tell anyone, or my father’s friends will hear and… Listen, one time I heard him speaking on the telephone. He was talking about the Aljunied industrial estate, and I know that he never does business down there.”
“You think that’s where the shipment is?”
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard.”
“That’s a big area. Any details?”
“I’m trying to remember. My father said you go past the swimming complex and turn left and then quickly right. Was it that? I’m not sure—maybe it was right and then quickly left. Then the place was on the right, not far away. He told them a number, I think, but I can’t remember.”
Chapter 25
Tim flew back to CampDua with a sense of anti-climax that even Tommo’s antics with the old Goose could not lift. At sometime during the night before Hangchi had left a note in the mailbox. Unsigned, it had read
We found what we were looking for
. Nothing more. It looked as if the excitement was over.
On top of that, he was no longer so sure of Sherry. Nothing he could put his finger on, but she was not quite as biddable as she had been. He might have to bring the chains out again on his next break. He wondered if it was something he would have to repeat regularly.
He made up an excuse to visit Captain Rais as soon as he arrived but found that he had gone on a visit to Jakarta. He shrugged off his mood and went looking for a ride. A major intermediate casing string being run on the
Siak
, and
Sea Sprite IV
would be needed to provide extra pumping capacity. Raymond had moored bow on against the swamp barge and brought the bulk cement barge in alongside. So far, so good. Now they just had to rig up enough gear to turn
Sea Sprite IV
from an acidising unit into a cementing unit. They would be busy.
Tim disliked cementing. It was the hard and brutal end of Krumbein’s business, and it always seemed to happen at three in the morning in the rain. Quite unlike his normal operations which were carried out in daylight, and usually finished in time for dinner. The guys hated it too, if only because cement dust gets everywhere and is far harder to clean up.
Tim was already tired from travelling but they now started on a process that would see them getting more and more spent as they prepared for the job. They would man-handle the heavy treating pipe and chiksans up to the rig floor far above water level. Test the line to ensure it was leak-free. Run hoses down from the rig to deliver the mix water for the cement. Stack 15 gallon plastic drums of chemicals near the pump unit to mix the required chemicals into the water. They would be very busy.
After everything had been prepared, there would be the nail biting period of waiting until the rig was ready for them. Finally, when their bodies were crying for sleep, the pump unit on the rig would fire up and start mixing. Following that lead, Tim would push his throttles forward and signal to Raymond. He would swing on the handle of the big surge can valve, and everything would disappear in cement dust as the powder dropped into the mixing system at something over a ton a minute. For the next four hours, if everything went well, they would be enveloped in noise and dust. The sodium lights would keep the darkness back and in their illuminated island beside the rig, they would labour and sweat and suffer until the last of the cement had been mixed and pumped. Then, at last, Tim would be able to relax and help the guys wash down the equipment.
That was in the distant future. Right now he climbed up onto the rig and went in search of the plan.
Two days later, he woke from a heavy sleep with the job behind him and the pressure off. His bed had moved and he crawled to the window to see what was happening. Mid-morning, and he looked over the deck of
Sea Sprite IV
at the
Siak
. It was moving. Or rather, they were moving. The tug had come and
Sea Sprite IV
was off to its next location. He had missed breakfast, and because they would be chugging through the delta for the next few hours, he would miss lunch as well. Never mind, he told himself, at least they would be free of the noisy, dirty and overpowering rig.
Life was not too bad. Shaved and dressed, he stumbled out onto the verandah. The delta swept slowly by on either side. Down on the deck, Raymond had the guys cleaning and stowing the last of the cement mixing gear. He was up on the unit, breaking down the manifold so they could start repacking the pumps. It was good to have a reliable and experienced hand like Raymond running things. It made Tim’s work easy and, even better, a box of food from the rig waited at his door. Raymond looked up and waved good morning. Tim waved thank you for the breakfast and gestured that he would eat first and then come to help. Life was back to normal.
The trouble that ended it all for Tim came two days later. They had finished an acid job the day before and had rigged down and waited to move on. Tim was idly looking out of his window, coffee in hand, when a boat nosed into view in the river channel. A standard Indonesian river boat, wooden, long, deeply flared bow. A roof covered most of its length and it had boxes and junk stowed on it. What made this boat different was the cargo. Instead of patient villagers with their bags and chickens sitting quietly below, the boat was covered with perhaps a dozen men. Young, aggressive men in a mixture of military clothing and Rambo head bands in red and white. They were hanging off the boat, ready to jump off and board, and they were armed. The iconic profile of AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifles was everywhere. Tim’s stomach dropped. The Man Who Ate Pork sprang into his mind.