Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [122]
I turned into Orchard MRT station and slowed, letting the natural movement of the human flood carry me along. I hit the escalator and was soon in the bowels of the station. I stepped to one side and stopped in the main concourse as the continuous stream of people chose a turnstile and slapped down their entry cards before going even deeper into the complex.
After three minutes of loitering, I thought I’d misjudged Miss Blue’s intentions. I was about to give up and move on when I saw her approaching. Because she was relatively tall, she stood out above those around her. She was thirty metres away, fished her wallet out of her shoulder bag and pressed her ez-link card to the turnstile.
Moving quickly, I swiped my card too, went through the nearest gate and carried on down to the platforms below. Would she head north or south? I found a pillar and leaned against it, pulling out my cellphone and pretending to talk. A dozen people around me were also chatting on their phones.
Miss Blue arrived at the bottom of the escalator and turned for the left platform. She was heading back down the line. Would she get off at Somerset or stay onboard and maybe change at Dhoby Ghaut? The train was pulling in. I moved closer and waited. She went into the rear of the train. I went into the next section. A seat was vacant. I dropped into it ahead of an old Chinese lady. To her equally old friend, she scolded me in Mandarin. I let it slide. I was just a dumb, bad-mannered Anglo. Despite that, she said that the scars on my head looked bad. Thank you, Auntie, I thought as the train pulled away.
Over the top of the other passengers, I could just make out the top of Miss Blue’s head in the next carriage. She was standing. A minute or two later, we slowed to a stop at Somerset. Would she get off? For a moment, as the doors opened, I thought she was going to. I stood. No, instead she took a vacant seat. I went to sit down again, but the auntie who had scolded me had slipped behind me and was now sitting in that seat. I almost sat on her lap. She looked up at me and cackled. Her friend, who was still standing, congratulated her in Mandarin. This horse’s behind was too slow, it seemed!
I bent my knees slightly and merged with the standing crowd. Again, I could just see Miss Blue’s head. If she got off at the Dhoby Ghaut interchange, where to next? Would she take the green line and head east or west? Or take the purple line. The choices were all there. Of course, she might just stay on the train.
When we reached Dhoby Ghaut, she stood and got off the train. I followed. There was little chance of getting in front of her, and she had so many options of where to go that it was impossible for me to outguess her. The only alternative was to stay on her tail and hope that she didn’t realise she was being followed. Judging by her lack of expertise to date, I didn’t think that was likely. I hoped I was right.
Purple line! She was either going to Harbourfront or Punggol or anywhere in between. I followed and yes, she was heading west. Now that she had lost her subject, Miss Blue was no longer scanning the crowd. The fact that I might have turned the tables on her had obviously not entered her mind. Amateur!
Again I hugged a pillar and pantomimed with my cellphone as we waited for the next unit, all the time keeping watch on my former spook out of the corner of my eye. I avoided staring directly at her. Even if she weren’t practised at shadowing, I didn