Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [123]
The train pulled in and I did as I had done before. There were fewer people getting on, so I stayed at a discreet distance and slumped into a seat, pretending to text on my mobile. From where I was sitting I could see Miss Blue’s crossed legs in a seat not too far from me. She had nice legs, but her shoes, with semi-high heels, were not exactly ideal for a shadow. That added to my conclusion that she wasn’t a complete professional. A real pro would have had on walking shoes of some sort.
At Outram Park, Miss Blue stood and made her way out onto the platform. I did likewise, but hung back. My former watcher was making a call on her mobile. This call wasn’t as difficult as the first, it appeared. She actually laughed before slipping the phone back into her bag. I followed, just close enough to see which one of the dozens of alternative exits she used. She chose the Cantonment exit. I’d been here before. This was the exit that came up directly under the police complex. Shit! Was she a cop after all? I quickly slipped my cap back on to cover the scars and let the cap’s oversize brim and my dark glasses cover as much of my face as possible. I knew there was CCTV aplenty in the MRT station, but assumed there would be even more cameras near the police precinct.
I stayed on Miss Blue’s tail. If she were a cop, I would be leaving Singapore just as soon as it could be arranged. I had no illusions that if the authorities were interested in me, I would be in great danger, and life in Changi Prison was not something I was eager to experience.
We emerged on the ground-level concourse in the police building, but rather than turning to the right and entering the precinct itself, Miss Blue carried on, exited the foyer and walked on up the side of the building. There was a gap in the hedge at the top. She stepped through and waited to cross the road in front of her. I hung back in the shadows under the building’s overhang. I found a cigarette and made a play of lighting it. Hell, this was my first of the day. I had so far almost stuck to my limit of five a day. My lungs were beginning to thank me for my restraint.
Miss Blue crossed the road and headed to a large housing estate directly in front of her. I let her get into the grounds before I tossed my cigarette away and judged my run to make it across the road without being flattened.
Miss Blue had gone beyond the first line of buildings and was moving deeper into the cluster of apartment blocks. I stayed on her tail. She paused at one stage to talk to an elderly woman. I lit another cigarette for cover and sat at one of the seats dotted around the open park space.
Eventually the pair separated and Miss Blue moved on. She turned into the entrance of one of the towers. I slowed. This was going to be the tricky bit. Then I noticed the post boxes. I tried to make myself invisible by pressing my body into the wall outside the open entrance. I watched. Who doesn’t check for mail mid-morning? Miss Blue kept my faith in humanity. She produced a key from her shoulder bag and opened a box. I was too far away to read the numbers, but I counted. Three down, four from the end.
My quarry closed and relocked the box, then moved towards the bank of two elevators, sorting her mail as she went. A lift arrived and three people exited. Miss Blue stepped in and was gone. I waited for the foyer to clear and went to the bank of post boxes. Three down and four across was box number 09-04. A sticker on the letterbox read:“Lucy Pang Hooi Ming—NO junk mail, thank you”.
I went to the elevators. The television monitor mounted on the wall above each of the lifts showed its interior. Miss Lucy Pang, if that was her name, was standing, head down, reading a postcard. She was nodding her head. I guessed she was laughing. When the elevator stopped, she got out without looking up at the camera.