Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [60]
At 12:30 I hit the street dressed as our man from Perth. I had my camera on my belt and a water bottle in my hand. Ed Davidson was on the loose in SIN City. (Well, actually Singapore isn’t particularly sinful, but SIN is the airline designation.)
I cabbed it to Little India and then mooched around being a tourist.
I checked out the Tekka market, taking plenty of photographs as I went.
Eventually I worked my way through the area, street by street, until I found my way to the Thieves Market, as the locals call it. The short streets off Jalan Besar, Pitt Road and Weld Road, and the bisecting streets, were crammed with makeshift stalls, many selling junk: household appliances, watches, rings, shoes, near-porn DVDs, used clothing. It was all laid out for sale. The market isn’t a tourist attraction, it’s mostly for locals, so it doesn’t feature in many guide books. Why was I there? Well, it’s a great place to pass an hour or so and I thought I might, just might, find something I couldn’t live without.
This day, apart from a pocket knife that cost me all of S$3,I didn’t find anything I needed. After a late lunch at the food centre washed down with a couple of beers, I caught the Northeast Line back to Dhoby Ghaut. I didn’t take the interchange but instead came straight out of the station. It was 15:30. I walked the five blocks back to the hotel in an effort to settle my stomach, which was churning as much from anticipation of what was to come as from the curry I’d eaten for lunch.
Back in my room, I showered away the grime of another sweaty Singapore day and prepared for the evening, dressing in a fresh set of Ed Davidson’s typical clothes. The landline rang. It was Simone wanting to know if we could catch up for a meal later. I had to tell her no, something I think disappointed us both. We settled on a lunch on the morrow.
I emerged above ground at Marina right on time. The Mercedes had been traded for a large box-like transit with a windowless back. Jo was waiting by the open rear of the van when I got there. I climbed in and he followed, closing the double door after him. Three other men were in the back. There were no seats, so they were sitting on the floor. Along with the passenger and driver in front, we had a team of seven to create whatever mayhem Jo and Sami intended for Lu.
The van moved away as Jo and I sat. There was a glass partition between the front and the rear compartments so there was enough light for me to check over my fellow passengers.
One of them I recognised from Thailand. The name escaped me, but he had been one of Tuk Tuk’s hardmen. He gave me a grin. I returned it. The others, I didn’t know. They were all Thai as well. There were nods all round.
“This is Dan,” Jo said by way of introduction. “You have never seen him.” Jo reached for one of several cartons occupying the rear of the van along with us. From it, he pulled out a sport bag and passed it to me.
“Your new uniform,” he said with a grin.
Inside the bag was a one-piece black coverall. I knew it would be my size. Awkwardly, because I was sitting down and the van was swaying more than a little, I managed to strip off my long shorts and shirt and squirm into the overall. There were boots, a pair of canvas, quasi-military combat ones. I pulled them on, again a perfect fit. The final touches were a black full-faced hood with just eye and mouth holes and pair of flash gloves. I pulled on the gloves and jammed the balaclava into my breast pocket.
Jo dragged another box to him. This one was wooden and it was heavy. He reached inside and handed me the first of the goodies. It was, surprise, surprise, a Browning Hi-Power just like the one I’d dropped into the harbour, except this one had a long silencer threaded to its muzzle. As he doled weapons out to the rest of the crew, I checked mine. The automatic appeared to be new. I dropped out the full magazine. The packing grease was gone and the action