Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [51]
“I think the cops are convinced it was a gang scrap. I don’t think they’re looking for the Lone Ranger,” Sami replied. “By the way, I do have an idea on how to make that grand entrance for the meeting. I want you at my side when I do.”
“Sure.”
“Marina Bay MRT at 20:00 Friday. Look dangerous, something which comes naturally to you, of course.”
“Oh shucks,” I said, doing my best to sound like James Stewart. “You’re just trying to butter me up.”
Sami chuckled. “Yeah. We’ll be armed. I have no reason on earth to trust Lu to either be there or be there without a bunch of thugs in tow.”
“Watch your back between now and then,” I warned. “If he’s got people in the know, he might have already found out you’re the new partner and he might try and take you out as well.”
“Jo’s flying in this evening and I’ve got my back well covered.” Sami nodded to K, who was standing by the door. The former Thai Special Forces man nodded back. “You know me, Daniel.”
“That’s debatable,” I said as I stood, grinning to show I was joking—not!
“K will have Edward take you back to your hotel. Sleep well, my friend.”
As before, K led me out of the office. Simone smiled up at me. She really was a most attractive woman.
“Going so soon, Mr Davidson?”
“Indeed, Mavis.” I signalled to her the thumb and little finger telephone symbol, screening it from K with my body. Simone gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Take care,” I added as I followed K into the elevator.
Edward was waiting by the car.
Twenty minutes later, I was stretched out on the bed in my room. As is often the case when you’re totally exhausted, trying to catch sleep is like trying to catch a handful of smoke. I turned on the television. Local news was playing the gun battle at Fort Siloso to death. I went to sleep.
18
“Thomas, my friend, it is so good to see you again.”
“And you, Raymond,” Lu lied. He was good at lying, but for the past day he had been lying to the Mendez family and that was not a good thing.
The pair of them were meeting in the magnificent foyer of The Fullerton. Raymond Mendez had wanted the Presidential Suite, but it was occupied. Reluctantly, he had had to settle for a lesser one. So far he had managed to control his temper, barely, but inside he was seething and Thomas Lu could sense it.
“The cargo has landed,” Mendez said. “It will be delivered to the warehouse you specified in the morning. Now I think we should go and have dinner and experience a little of Singapore’s night life.”
Thomas Lu did not want to spend another second in the company of Raymond Mendez, but there was nothing he could do but agree with the man. To refuse could trigger the psychopath into a bloody rage. Lu had reservations at The Club, the newest and supposedly best restaurant in the city, one that Lu had not yet experienced himself. According to the considerable publicity the Cross Street establishment had garnered in the weeks it had been open, the imported chef had cooked with Ramsay and earned several Michelin stars of his own. It had taken considerable coercion and several thousand dollars to secure a private dining room at such short notice.
Lu’s chauffeur was waiting beside the gold Bentley when the pair emerged from the hotel. Mendez nodded appreciatively at the car.
“Very nice, Thomas. I have been meaning to get one myself.”
Thomas Lu grunted noncommittally in response as the men seated themselves in the vehicle’s spacious rear. Despite his fear of the younger Mendez brother, Lu was even more scared of Sami Somsak. The Thai was a legend to many in the region, a larger-than-life character reputed to be a guerrilla fighter, bandit, drug lord, pirate, cold-blooded killer or a combination of all, according to whomever was telling the story. Lu had never met the man, but he knew people who had, and people who had incurred his wrath lived to regret it. Again, according