Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [37]
The beam from my lamp picked up the faces of the men sitting and standing around the table. This, the tableaux in the first room, unnerved me for a second. The face of the one seated figure was looking directly at me. In the light of day he was realistic enough but in the lamplight he looked as if he was about to ask me what the hell I was doing there.
I went through into the second room at a jog. The narrow beam of my headlamp cut a swathe through the blackness but it didn’t reach to the far end of this the longer room. The standing and seated figures down there faded into shadows. But I wasn’t looking for my target down there.
Numata was the first seated figure to my right. I stepped over the railing and the proximity alarm sounded. It was an annoyingly high-pitched buzzer, as these things tend to be. I reach across the table for Numata’s right sleeve and start groping for the digital recorder.
At first it seemed that the sleeve was empty and then, just as the main alarm started its banshee screaming, I found it. Small, metallic and worth billions of dollars. I pocketed the note taker and zipped my pocket closed as the beam from a flashlight flared back in the room beyond. The man on the hill was coming in after me. I figured he’d wait outside. Damn!
I debated sprinting to the exit door at the far end, but no time. Instead I killed my light. I was about to go around the table and crouch behind Numata’s figure when I had a brainstorm. The empty seat at the head of the table, it was right beside me. Head? I was wearing a hood. There was an Indian soldier wearing a beret standing behind the chair. I yanked the beret off his head and I fell into the chair, pulling the Browning from my shoulder holster as I did so. I pulled the headlamp off my head and let my communicator fall down my chest as I pulled the beret on. Hopefully, having my face blacked out I’d look like an African officer. Whatever, I needed to buy a moment of time.
I froze as the light came probing into the room. I was facing away from the doorway, which was slightly behind my left shoulder. The man with the flashlight was no doubt pressed against the side of the entrance. My survival in the first instance depended on whether he was on the left or right side.
The light beam started down the left wall and swept the long room moving left to right. He was against the near side and that meant he wouldn’t have the angle to see me unless he stepped right into the room. If he’d been on the other wall, he would have swept my side first.
The light just touched my shoulder and swept back the other way. I sensed Mr Smoker had moved into the room. Then I could see him out of the corner of my eye. The beam swung back. He was slightly in front of me now. My impression of a waxwork had worked, it seemed. The guy with the light was probably looking for a standing, crouching or prone figure, not one seated at the head of the table, obviously part of the display.
The alarm siren was shrieking and the buzzer too. It was nerve- shredding pandemonium in the surrender room and no doubt for a hundred metres in every direction outside. I figured the rangers and cops and everyone in Singapore would be heading this way soon to see what was going on. The guy with the light continued moving forward. The gun in his right hand reflected the light from the flashlight held in his left. He advanced further into the room, pushing the gun and light ahead of his body. Then he crouched and began sweeping the light under and behind the tables, trying to find a living being amongst the ghosts. I stayed motionless for the moment, but it was time to be going. I didn’t want to be there when another of Lu’s little helpers came in.
Chow Lee’s heart was pounding, his ears ringing from the screaming alarms. He was sweating, close to panic. The Fang Triad gang member was not comfortable using a gun. The automatic in his hand felt unnatural. He preferred a hatchet or a knife. However, the man he had