The Eight Curious Cases of Inspector Zhang (11 page)

“I am a big fan of English writers. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Agatha Christie, Dorothy L Sayers, Edgar Wallace.”

“I'm not a big reader,” said Mr. Yates. “Never have been.”

Inspector Zhang's face fell, but he managed to cover his discomfort by removing his spectacles and polishing them with his handkerchief. “So, my sergeant asked you if you saw or heard anything unusual during the flight?”

“I was working,” said Mr. Yates.

“So you didn't hear a shot, for instance?”

“A shot? A gunshot? Of course not?” He frowned. “Is that what happened? The guy over there was shot?”

“It appears so, yes.”

“That's impossible.”

“Yes, I agree. During the flight did you see anyone go over to Mr. Srisai?”

“Who?”

“I'm sorry,” said Inspector Zhang. “That is the deceased's name. He is a Thai gentleman. Did you see anyone talking to him during the flight?”

“To be honest I was busy,” said Mr. Yates. “I hardly looked up. But there was a Thai man talking to him not long before we landed. They were arguing, I think.” He twisted around in his seat and pointed at Mr. Nakprakone. “That guy back there.”

“Arguing?”

“There was a flash, I think the man might have taken a photograph, but really I wasn't paying attention.” He smiled. “I'm putting together a proposal for a client and it has to be done by close of business today.”

“You are a stockbroker?” He put his spectacles back on.

“That's right.”

“Have you heard of Mr. Srisai? I gather he is active politically in Thailand.”

Mr. Yates shook his head. “I'm more concerned about profit and loss accounts and dividend payments than I am with politics,” he said. “The Thai political situation is so messed up that I don't think anyone really understands what's going on. It would make our lives much easier if Thailand was run more like Singapore.”

Inspector Zhang nodded in agreement. “I sometimes think that the whole world would be better off if it was run like Singapore,” he said.

“So he was a VIP, was he?”

“Apparently.”

“That explains the run-in with security he had at Changi, then. Thai VIPs expect kid gloves treatment wherever they go.”

“What happened?” asked Inspector Zhang.

“I don't know, really. He was behind me at the security check and the arch thing beeped when he went through. They wanted to search him but he was arguing.”

“Arguing about what?”

“I've no idea. I just collected my briefcase and walked away. But he was shouting about something or other.”

Inspector Zhang thanked him and then stood up and rejoined Sergeant Lee at the front of the cabin. “Is everything okay, sir?” she asked.

“Everything is satisfactory,” said the inspector.

The door to the cockpit opened and Captain Kumar came out with Mr. Yip. The pilot smiled apologetically. “I know that you said that we wouldn't be allowing anyone off the plane until your investigation has been completed, but Mr. Yip tells me that the economy class passengers are starting to get restless,” he said. “We've turned the engines off and we haven't connected to an ancillary power source yet, which means that our air-conditioning isn't on. Here in Raffles Class it isn't a problem but economy is almost full and it's getting hot back there.”

Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully. “I think we have almost concluded our investigation,” he said.

“We have?” said Sergeant Lee, surprised.

Inspector Zhang smiled at the chief purser. “Mr. Yip, members of your cabin crew would have been in the galley throughout the flight, yes?”

Mr. Yip nodded. “Of course.”

“Then I need you to confirm with them that at no point did any of the economy passengers move through the galley to the front cabin.”

“They wouldn't have been allowed to,” said Mr. Yip. “Not even to use the toilet. We insist that economy class passengers remain in the economy cabin.”

“I understand, but I would like you to confirm that for me,” said the inspector.

Mr. Yip nodded and hurried back to the galley.

“Captain Kumar, would it be possible for the passengers to disembark from the rear of the plane?”

“It wouldn't be a problem, though we would have to bring out a stairway,” said the pilot.

“If the economy passengers are getting off then we should be allowed to get off with them,” said Mr. Woodhouse from his seat in the middle of the cabin.

“I'm afraid that's not possible,” said Inspector Zhang.

Mr. Woodhouse waved a blue passport in the air. “I'm an American citizen,” he said. “You can't keep us prisoners like this.”

“That's right,” agreed his wife.

“We're just tourists. This is nothing to do with us,” said Mr. Woodhouse.

“Exactly!” said his wife.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience,” said Inspector Zhang.

“Being sorry doesn't cut it,” said the American. “This isn't fair. You're saying that if we had flown economy you'd let us off, but because we bought business class tickets you're keeping us prisoner.” He jabbed a thick finger at the inspector. “I demand that the American ambassador is informed of this immediately.”

“Immediately!” echoed Mrs. Woodhouse.

“Please, Mr. Woodhouse, Mrs. Woodhouse, just bear with us,” said Inspector Zhang calmly. “This will all be resolved shortly.”

Mr. Yip came back down the aisle. “I have spoken to all the cabin crew and I have their assurance that no passengers left the economy cabin throughout the flight.”

“In that case, Captain, I have no objection to you allowing the Economy passengers to disembark from the rear of the plane.”

“I'm going too,” said the Chinese businessman. He stood up and opened the locker above his head and pulled out a Louis Vuitton briefcase.

“I am afraid I must ask you to remain in your seat for a little while longer, Mr. Chia,” said Inspector Zhang.

Mr. Chia turned to look at the inspector, his upper lip curled back in a snarl. “No,” he said. “I've been here long enough. This is Thailand. You've no jurisdiction here. You do not have the authority to keep me on this plane.”

“You might well be right, Mr. Chia,” said the inspector. “But of one thing I am sure: you step out of this plane now, the Thai police will have the authority to arrest you and I will make sure that they do just that. And I am also sure that you would not appreciate the inside of a Thai prison, because that is where you will be held until this investigation is complete.”

“This is an outrage,” snapped the businessman, but he went back to his seat.

“I agree,” said Inspector Zhang. “Murder is an outrage. Which is why I want to solve this murder as quickly as possible. Once the perpetrator has been apprehended we can all leave the plane.”

The bodyguard was sitting in his seat, staring at the bulkhead. He didn't look up as Inspector Zhang sat down next to him in seat 11D. “You are Mr. Lev Gottesman,” he said.

The man nodded but said nothing.

“From Israel?”

“From Tel Aviv.”

“And you were employed by Mr. Srisai, as a bodyguard?”

The man turned his head slowly until Inspector Zhang could see his own reflection in the impenetrable lenses of the man's sunglasses. “Is that some sort of a wisecrack?” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I am merely trying to ascertain the facts in this case,” said Inspector Zhang.

The man's lips formed a tight line and then he nodded slowly. “Yes, I was hired to be his bodyguard. And yes, the fact that he's dead means I did not do a good job.” He folded his arms and stared at the bulkhead again.

“Mr. Gottesman, I would like you to remove your sunglasses please.”

“Why?”

“Because I like to see a man's eyes when he is talking to me. The eyes, after all, are the windows to the soul.”

The Israeli took off his glasses, folded them, and put them into the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

“Thank you,” said Inspector Zhang. “And if you would be so good as to give me your passport.” The bodyguard reached into his pocket and handed the inspector a blue passport. “How long have you been in Mr. Srisai's employ?”

“About eight weeks.”

“And your predecessor was killed?”

The Israeli nodded. “There was a car bomb. The bodyguard was driving. Bodyguards should never drive. Drivers drive and bodyguards take care of security. Mr. Srisai did not take his own safety seriously enough.”

“Your predecessor was Thai?”

The Israeli nodded again. “They are not well trained, the Thais. They think that any soldier or cop can be a bodyguard, but the skills are different.”

“And your skills? Where do they come from? You were a soldier?”

The bodyguard sneered. “All Israelis are soldiers. Our country is surrounded by enemies.”

“More than a soldier then? Mossad? Did you use to work for the Israeli intelligence service?”

The Israeli nodded but said nothing. Inspector Zhang flicked through the passport.

“So you are a professional,” said Inspector Zhang. “As a professional, what do you think happened?”

“He died. I failed. And as for being a professional, I doubt that anyone will employ me again after this.”

Sergeant Lee appeared at Inspector Zhang's side, taking notes. “And you saw nothing?” asked the inspector.

The bodyguard turned to stare at Inspector Zhang with eyes that were a blue so pale they were almost grey. “If I had seen anything, do you think I would have allowed it to happen?” he said.

“Obviously not. And equally, you heard nothing?”

“Of course I heard nothing.”

“So what do you think happened, Mr. Gottesman? Who killed your client?”

“He had many enemies.”

“So I gather. But are any of those enemies on this plane?”

“He didn't see any while we were waiting to board.”

“But you would have been in the VIP lounge, would you not? So you wouldn't have seen everyone.”

“True,” said the Israeli. “But the only people in the forward cabin are those with business class tickets. It couldn't have been any one from the rear of the plane, could it?”

“I agree,” said Inspector Zhang. “Now when was the last time you saw him alive?”

“I went to the toilet shortly before landing. I came back to find that journalist pestering Mr. Srisai. Then I read a magazine, then the flight attendant came around to tell us to fasten our seat belts and when she checked Mr. Srisai she realised something was wrong. She fetched the guy in the suit and he said he was dead and covered him with a blanket.”

“You didn't check for yourself?”

“They told me to stay in my seat. They said there was nothing I could do.”

Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully. “Was he an easy man to work for?”

The bodyguard shrugged. “He liked to do things his own way.”

“So he was difficult?”

“I wouldn't say difficult.”

“There was an argument at security back at the airport, I'm told.”

“It was nothing. A misunderstanding.”

“About what?”

“The metal detector beeped. They searched him. I think it was his watch that set it off. He wears a big gold Rolex.”

“And there was an argument?”

“He didn't want to be stopped. Men like Mr. Srisai, they are used to getting their own way.”

“And while you were in Singapore, where did you stay?”

“We moved from hotel to hotel, changing every few days. Last night we stayed at the Sheraton.”

“Because Mr. Srisai was concerned for his safety?”

The bodyguard nodded. “He said there were people who still wanted him dead, even though he had left Thailand.”

“But nothing happened during the flight to give you any cause for concern?”

“That's right. I was stunned when they said he was dead. I don't know how it could have happened.”

Inspector Zhang handed the bodyguard his passport. “You say that you have only worked for Mr. Srisai for two months.”

“That's correct.”

“But I see from the visas in your passport that you only arrived from Israel two months ago.”

The bodyguard put away the passport. “That's right. I was hired over the phone and flew out to take up the position.”

“But you had never met before then?”

The bodyguard shook his head. “A friend of Mr. Srisai recommended me. We spoke on the phone and agreed terms and I flew straight out to Thailand. Shortly after I arrived shots were fired at his house, and a maid was killed, so he decided to fly to Singapore.”

Inspector Zhang smiled. “Well, thank you for your time,” he said. He stood up and patted Sergeant Lee on the arm. “Come with me,” he said and took her through the galley and into the economy cabin which was almost empty. The cabin crew were shepherding the few remaining passengers out of the door at the rear of the plane. “I think it best we speak here so that the passengers cannot hear us,” he said. “So what do you think, Sergeant?”

She shrugged and opened her notebook. “I don't know, sir, I just don't know. We have an impossible situation, a crime that could not have happened and yet clearly has happened.”

“Very succinctly put, Sergeant,” said Inspector Zhang.

“We know that the victim couldn't have been shot on the plane. That would have been impossible.”

“That is true,” said Inspector Zhang.

“But if he had been shot before he boarded, why was there no blood? And how could a man with a bullet in his chest get on to the plane, eat his meal and go to the toilet? That would be impossible, too.”

“Again, that is true,” agreed the inspector.

“So it's impossible,” said Sergeant Lee, flicking through her notebook. “The only solutions are impossible ones.”