Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [114]
“Keep me informed.”
“I will. And Mr Lu?”
“Yes?”
“I will be calling on my friends tonight. Is everything arranged?”
“It is arranged.”
“Thank you!”
“Goodbye.” Lu hung up. He had a substantial libido of his own and he exercised it frequently, but the appetite of his spy in the Somsak camp amazed him. “If only we had made contact earlier,” he mused, not for the first time. A chance comment from one of his male escorts had opened the lines of communication. It appeared that his spy and he shared the same exclusive escort agent. “If only,” Lu repeated as he again reached for the telephone. His appetite had been whetted by the thought of what the previous caller had planned for the evening. He would now see to his own growing needs.
43
The building on Nassim Hill Road was tall and the penthouse atop it was no doubt one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in the city, if not the whole island. Thomas Lu lived the high life in more ways than one.
Everyone wants to live in a penthouse, I thought. I did live in one myself, but it was a comparatively modest one, despite the hefty price tag of eight million dollars. I knew that like Sami’s place, Thomas Lu’s lair would be worth millions and millions.
My cellphone rang.
“A rich address, Daniel.”
“Absolutely, old man. I feel your eyes, but I can’t see you.” Sami chuckled at that and then I saw a movement in the shadows further up the street opposite a construction site.
“Have you any thoughts on the Judas in our midst, Daniel?”
“Not yet, but I am working on it.”
“I hope it is not K.”
“So do I, old friend, so do I,” I replied and I meant it. With Jo gone, apart from me, K was now the last of the original inner circle.
“Any advance on your plan to get to Lu?”
“Oh yes,” Sami replied. “Things are almost in place. Let us meet tomorrow lunchtime, the hawker centre on Smith Street, twelve-thirty. You can buy an old man fish head curry. Okay?”
“Okay!”
With that, the shadows reclaimed my old friend. I flipped my phone shut and turned to retrace my steps back towards Orchard Road. I was just another tourist out for a stroll. I wasn’t far from Cuppage Terrace and the pub I’d enjoyed so much on my first visit. Dare I go back there? In the end, I decided it was too much of a risk. Ed Davidson and David Crewe should never be in the same place at the same time. Of course I didn’t look much like either at the moment, but I didn’t want to risk it.
I found another pub close by. It was on a steep little street set in an old shophouse. It was crowded, noisy and the beer was cold. I allowed myself a couple of pints and stayed out of trouble. Drinking alone is not a problem. In fact, when planning a strategy to uncover a traitor, it can be beneficial as the alcohol and the atmosphere assist the brain. It didn’t work this night. I left the pub without a plan.
Sitting on the edge of a concrete planter in the shadows, Sami Somsak was almost invisible to any passers-by. To anyone who saw him, he was just a harmless old man taking his ease and watching the activities on the construction site. This was a huge project as yet another small apartment building had been torn down to make way for a larger one. Already, the new structure had clawed its way fifteen storeys into the Singapore sky.
Sami was dressed in the traditional pyjama-like smock and trousers favoured by the old. He wore a brimless cap on his head and sandals on his feet. The small battered suitcase sat at his feet.
As he sat watching, waiting, a large tractor and trailer unit came slowly up the street. Under the harsh white lights of the building site, the lone watchman opened the gates to allow the truck entry. A second vehicle came grinding up after the first. When Sami saw what was on the heavily laden trailer, he smiled to himself. In a day or two, he would be ready to say farewell to Thomas Lu once and for all. With a grunt of satisfaction, he stood.
It was almost midnight, time for an old man to be home in his bed. Shuffling his feet, the small, hunched figure began to walk away down the