Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [121]
Okay, it’s the oldest trick in the spy handbook, but it generally works. For a tail, losing sight of his or her quarry produces an often uncharacteristic knee-jerk moment of panic.
My tail was Asian, surprise, surprise! Tall, with long hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a crisp white blouse under a well-cut navy trouser suit. She looked every inch the businesswoman. It was the perfect cover. If a guy hadn’t chosen that exact same moment to pull the door of the café open, framing her in the doorway, she might have managed to remain anonymous.
I was sitting low in my seat with my cap and Ray Bans off. The menu covered most of my face. There was a waitress hovering at the next table that was positioned between the door and me. I had cover, while Miss Corporate Singapore stood there exposed in the open doorway. For a moment she stayed frozen, her eyes darting, trying for a fix. Had I slipped through the café and out the back? Was I inside, innocent, unaware and simply ordering breakfast? Or was I fully aware of her presence and watching?
I don’t think she saw me. The door closed and she moved on. I waited until she had passed across the front window, then I quickly stood and made my way back towards the toilets. I went past them and into the kitchen. There I found controlled chaos, as was normal in most restaurants at peak times. Startled waitresses and cooking staff looked at me as I entered.
“Back door?” I asked. One of the chefs pointed. I thanked him and went to the door he’d indicated. It opened into a narrow alleyway that ran parallel to Orchard Road. The alley was filled with crates, boxes and gas bottles. I let the door close and went to where the alley joined a wider service lane that cut back to the street. Peering around the corner, I met my shadow. She was actually standing at the end of the service way where it joined the footpath to Orchard. She was using her cellphone. Her back was to me. I waited.
The call was short, very short. The woman flipped her phone and slipped it into the black bag she had slung over her shoulder. Judging by her body language, she was agitated. Had she reported to Lu that she had lost me, or had she been speaking to some other entity? My bet was she’d been talking to Thomas Lu; however, I needed to know one way or the other. The woman waited a few more minutes, standing watching the passing throng, then she made a decision and started back up Orchard, back the way she had come.
I ran to the corner. I was just in time to see a flash of blue entering the café I had just left. I gave her time to do a quick circuit and prepared to sprint back to my cover if she came back out and turned my way. She came out, but turned in the opposite direction and continued on up Orchard.
Now I had to do some big-time guesswork. Was she going back to her base, wherever that was? Was she going home? Was she going to throw herself under a bus? If I could just get her alone, I could find out who she was working for. If it was a government tail, I was busted and I’d be on the first flight out of the country, or more likely a fishing boat up the Straits. If she was working for Lu, maybe I could use her to my advantage. Either way, I needed to know who she was working for.
Miss Blue continued on ahead of me. Now with my jacket over my arm, my cap and glasses in my pocket, I was just a clean-shaven Anglo guy with a shaved head wearing a pair of Levi’s, battered cowboy boots and a white T-shirt bearing a Nike logo. Nothing obvious. I certainly didn’t look like the black-jacketed guy wearing dark glasses and a 501 baseball cap on his head that she had previously been following.
I had to take a chance. The MRT. Was she