Her Master's Voice (21 page)

“So why did you join the police?”

“The Army first. We were fighting guerrillas up and down the Peninsula in those days. I was in Intelligence and when Federation came, and the break-up, well, the Singapore Police seemed the only open door. Years later, and I’m back to Intelligence and terrorists again. The world never really changes.”

“But we don’t have terrorists in Singapore.”

“Well, yes and no. Fortunately there are no Chinese terrorists at the moment. No support for communism here any more. All the old insurgents have either gone back to China or changed their ways, but there are always undercurrents in the other groups—Malays,  Tamils, Indonesians. Groups like that are difficult for us Chinese to penetrate. Occasionally, we have our successes. Not frequently, but some successes. Enough to discourage most of the others.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to target Singapore.”

Hangchi laughed pleasantly. “I could wish all the world was as kind as you, Sherry, but it’s not. Look around you. Singapore is marching ahead. Building sites and pile drivers all the way down Orchard Road. Now we’re making all that new land on the foreshore. The new airport has just opened, and the Metro is coming. I hear even the old Pavilion will be history soon, worse luck.

“We are getting rich and all around us are poorer countries. Indonesia, Thailand, even most of Malaysia. Not to mention countries like Burma and Cambodia. Most of them dislike the Chinese, and successful Chinese especially. We are Chinese, and an outpost of Western imperialism at the same time. Look at the rich American company offices, and all the embassies. All it takes is one crazy terrorist with a bomb…”

“So you spend your life looking for terrorists?”

“Yes, and gun runners and, of course, drug smugglers because terrorism and drugs go hand in hand. Terrorism needs money and drugs give them that. Fortunately, there are easier countries for them to penetrate than Singapore, so we don’t get the worst of the problem. But you know what they say about the price of peace being eternal vigilance. Well, that’s me. Here, at least.”

She raised her glass to him. “Well, I hope you keep winning, that’s all I can say.”

The fish was superb. Decorated with herbs and ginger cut in florets, and cooked to the second. It surprised Sherry that the Pavilion could manage food like this—a complete contrast to her meal with Ranji the day before.

It was while they ate that Hangchi finally started to talk about why he had asked to meet her. “Sherry—I can call you Sherry, can’t I? Sherry, I like this place. It reminds me a little of Oxford. Very English. Solid, a little dull, very reliable. Makes me feel comfortable. Also, none of my colleagues seem to know about it, so I’m left in peace. When I want to sit and think, or just sit and read the paper, I say I’m meeting a contact and come here. They know me. Put me on one of the single tables over there. Or here if I have a guest. They take care of me, and leave me alone. I can hide away in the corner and watch a lot of people that I will never see in the course of my work. Normal foreigners, not the crazy ones.

“So I was very surprised to be tucked away in the corner when in marches the daughter of one of my current suspects. Someone suspected of being very closely related to a consignment of guns and explosives that left Colombo and disappeared. Not only is the daughter of this suspect eating lunch in the Pavilion, but she is accompanied by the wife of a contact who has just brought me some valuable information about the movement of illicit money. Money that’s probably destined to buy supplies for Islamic terrorists. In fact, it’s quite possibly going to pay for the guns that have slipped off the radar screens.

“So you see, I start to question myself. We don’t have coincidences in my business. When something looks fishy, in my experience it
is
fishy.

“Talking of fish, do keep eating. It would be a crime to let your trout get cold. Here, more wine.” He filled her glass. Sherry said nothing. Her mind raced in circles as she tried to understand what she was hearing.

“So, I thought to myself, something is going on. Then I thought about your husband and you, and I would be really surprised if you two were deeply involved in anything. I think I can judge you that far, and besides, the sort of people I’m talking about would never trust Westerners anyway. So I thought I would just invite you for a quiet lunch and let you tell me all you know about it. Is that alright?”

“But I don’t know anything. Really.”

“Oh, I think you do, my dear. You might not realise it but you probably know a lot of things that I would be interested in. Why don’t you start by telling me how you met Miss Chopra?”

“Ranji? Oh, we go to yoga together.”

“Yoga, I see. With that old fraud Bombar, I suppose.”

“Fraud? He’s not a fraud, well, maybe a little bit, but he’s very good for yoga. I like him.”

“Of course. He’s a very likeable chap. I enjoy his company myself and he certainly finds me the best Indian food you can imagine when I visit. So, you do yoga with our Ranji. What else do you do with her? Shopping?”

She had the unpleasant feeling that he had not only watched them eat lunch but followed them down Orchard Road as well.

“Yes, we go shopping.”

“And…?”

She hesitated. How did she admit to flute playing in front of Hangchi?

“You may as well tell me, my dear. I have a pretty good idea of what Bombar and Miss Chopra get up to anyway. Bombar has been sending you out on little assignments?”

“No, not at all. Well, just once, but Ranji, she was teaching me. About sex. To make me a better woman for yoga.”

“A better woman?” asked Hangchi with disbelief in his voice.

“Yes. Papi said that I needed more of the feminine principle. If I was a more feminine woman, more skilled, my yoga would progress. Until my spirit was right I would never move forward.”

“Very well, I don’t understand but we’ll let it pass. So Miss Chopra has been teaching you to be more feminine, although I can’t imagine why she thinks you need instruction in that. What does this teaching involve?”

Sherry looked at the table. Her fish was just a head and backbone. “It was about flute playing…”

“Flute—oh, I see. Right. Well. I really don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry to have embarrassed you.”

She looked at him directly. He was uncomfortable. “That’s alright. I’m used to it now. Ranji found some male friends and taught me how to do it. That’s all. I learnt, and we don’t do it any more. We’re just friends.”

“I see. Can I ask you which male friends Ranji introduced you to? Anyone you knew?”

“Oh, that’s difficult. There were lots of them and I didn’t know all their names.”

“Tell me what you can. Start at the beginning.”

She tried hard to remember. She could recall the hotels, the faces, some of the details but very few names. The sleek young Indian businessmen with their expensive jackets and ties seemed to have flowed together into one homogenised figure. She did remember the Professor quite clearly and his case made Hangchi smile.

Then of course, there was Alistair. Hangchi laughed out loud when he heard the name. “Oh, Alistair. Now I’ve caught you! Alistair is an old friend. I was at Oxford with his father and I know the son too. Wait until I see him again. I’ll make him suffer…”

“No—please don’t. He’ll know I told you, and he’s a friend. He knows my husband. We met on Pulau Kelapa and we stayed on his island last week.”

“He knows Tim? Really? Now that is interesting. What has Tim been telling him? About the letters from Kalimantan?”

“I don’t think so. We never spoke about anything like that. Not when I was with them anyway. Tim rescued him when he had trouble snorkelling, and we sort of got together afterwards.” She definitely would not tell Hangchi any details of what she had been doing last week.

“Well, well, well. Naughty Alistair. Never mind, I won’t tell him I’ve met you. Now, what else has Bombar asked you to do? You said there was one time…”

“Yes. Once. He sent us, Ranji and me, to see someone they called the Irishman. Except he wasn’t Irish.” She knew immediately that Hangchi was interested. He sat still and listened carefully.

“He sent us to his office in Telok Blangah. We had to go to the Irishman and—and let him do whatever he wanted. He wanted us to dance together, and then he had Ranji while I watched, and then we went home.”

“Really? But why? Why were you sent? Didn’t you ask? I don’t think Ranji would go there even for money, and the Irishman isn’t the most generous of men.”

“Yes, of course I asked. I didn’t want to go and neither did Ranji but she said we had to. She said that her father had been arranging a shipment—no, she didn’t say that. She said he was involved with some people who were arranging it, and Papi was too, somehow. Anyway, the shipment had been delayed or something and the Irishman was making trouble. I think he was just bullying Ranji’s father and the others, and wanted to show how important he is. So Papi sent us as a sort of peace offering. That’s all. Ranji said we wouldn’t go back even if the Irishman offered us money. I didn’t like him. He was a creep.”

“A very dangerous creep, my dear. I don’t want you to have any contact with him again. Keep out of his way. Now what else have you and Miss Chopra been doing?”

“Nothing. I’ve told you everything, really.”

“Are you sure? Right, I believe you, my dear. Well, well, well. You’ve given me something to think about. Tell me, shall we all meet for lunch when Tim gets back? I’m sure I’ll have some more questions for you by then.”

Sherry was feeling a little better now. “Yes. Of course. I’m sure we’d like that.”

“Good. Now look. I’ve been with the police for a long time now and people know me. They know what I do for a living, so perhaps it’s better if you don’t mention we’ve had this discussion. Or even that we met. You can tell Tim, of course, when he gets back. Oh, and you should probably be careful of the telephone. You never know. If you ever have to call me, use a public phone downtown.”

“Do you think someone is watching me?”

He thought for a while. “No, I don’t see why they should. I don’t see how they could connect you to me. It would be most unlikely. On the other hand… I try to never underestimate these people. Most of the time they behave like ignorant amateurs and then suddenly you find they are doing something that is really quite clever. Of course, it’s because of the stupidities that we can follow them. There’s always the worry that someone
really
clever is out there and we haven’t heard of him at all. Until something tragic happens. Anyway, don’t let it worry you. Just live a normal life and if anyone did take a closer look at you, well, there’d be nothing to find, would there?”

Chapter 22

The tug came for
Sea Sprite IV
after lunch. The tide had turned and the brown delta water was flowing rapidly upriver. Delicately, the tug pulled them out into the stream on a tight bridle and started out against the current. They were going offshore.

Captain Straughan rode with them. The PetroFance insurers insisted on proper supervision when equipment moved anywhere near their offshore wells. Tim was glad of the company as a change and they sat together on the verandah, beer in hand, watching the riverbanks slip by. From their raised platform they could look out over
Sea Sprite’s
crowded deck at the tug labouring ahead of them. Soon the channel began to widen and the river got rougher. They were nearing the sea.

The water did not change. It was still muddy and brackish. The swamp gradually fell back, losing its nipa palms and mangroves until the riverbanks turned into distant beaches backed by scrub. The tug pulled them out between the channel marker buoys and the land started to shrink behind them. They slowed a little as one of the tug crew paid out the tow to a more suitable length for open water, and then they throbbed on, heading for the horizon.

Captain Straughan sat back with his boots on the railing. He was a small, silver-haired man dressed in uniform black drill shirt and trousers. Everyone called him Captain in spite of a rumour that his America ticket was no longer valid. “I shouldn’t really be letting a barge like this out to sea, you know,” he said. “You wouldn’t get away with it anywhere else. I’m not sure you should even be operating in the delta, looking at your electrics.”

“Oh well. Cheap is cheap, so they tell me, and have you ever heard of Krumbeins sticking to safety standards so tight that it costs real money? And PetroFrance is just as bad. They accepted the barge along with a cheap price, and they should know we’re not an offshore rig.”

The Captain stretched. “Only in the JavaSea. Most of the time you can get away with anything. Did I ever tell you about that schooner that capsized? Wasn’t more than a couple of year ago. We was coming back down the Makassar Strait in a supply boat. We’d just been towing a jack-up to Labuan and was running back down the Strait when we come across this schooner. Capsized. Turned right over. Don’t know how. The crew were probably all asleep and they caught a gust. Anyway, over they went. They all got out and climbed up onto the hull. They could dive under the boat and get things—food and so on—so  they rescued their cooking stuff and lit a fire to cook their rice, right there on the upturned hull.

“So there they were. They could fish for food, and they had rice anyway. Firewood, water cans to catch rain, they were quite happy. We offered to take them off but they didn’t want it. They were just going to wait until they drifted ashore and they could get the boat onto its side. Then they were going to unload it—I don’t know what they were carrying—and pull it upright, and start again. Hard to believe, isn’t it? We gave them bottled water and left them to it.”

Tim thought about that. It was quite believable, even in the land of tall tales. “I guess we’re all pretty slack. I’ve never heard of divers working the way they do here. They don’t seem to have any surface support at all. They don’t even go down fixed lines, just splosh over the side. Free diving, and no decompression chamber within hours. Even most of the Krumbein’s operation would be laughed at in the States or Europe, and you know the fuss they make about their professionalism and all that crap.”