Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [77]
“Let me see the money.”
Sami turned and waved to Jo who was still sitting behind the wheel of the truck. Obedient driver that he was, Jo Ankar opened the cab door, slipped from his seat and swung back onto the deck behind the cab. He then walked down to the rear of the container. Sami walked alongside him. Thomas Lu paralleled them, walking five metres away. His quartet of bodyguards moved with him.
When Lu saw the truck driver reach the rear of the container and start to unfasten the lock, he called out.
“Wait!” Lu quickly gave instructions to his men. One moved to the front of the truck, two stayed where they were. Lu, with the remaining man at his shoulder, moved forward. He was now confident that he had both his back and the car park covered.
The truck driver stood on the truck deck waiting for the instruction to continue to open the container. When Lu and his man arrived at the rear of the vehicle, Lu gave the order. The driver once again started working the locking handle.
The locking bar ground free and the driver moved to one side as he pulled the door open. The man at Lu’s side tensed. Under his long jacket, the muzzle of an Uzi was just visible. His right hand was under the jacket. Under his own jacket, Thomas Lu had a silenced stainless steel S&W 459 automatic holstered. He had his hand on its butt. His heart was high in his chest as the container door screeched open.
There was no horde of gunmen waiting inside the container. Lu breathed a sigh of relief. He moved slightly to one side so he could see down the length of the container’s interior and counted its contents. There were four bales packed in it in a line, one behind the other, just as they had been when the container had been in his warehouse.
“Wait here and watch them,” Lu instructed his bodyguard as he climbed up onto the truck deck. He brushed past the driver and entered the steel box. The bales that had previously been opened had been resealed with tape and plastic sheeting.
Thomas Lu smiled to himself. Was it a trap, a wooden horse? Would men with guns leap out of the bales and take him prisoner? He raised his silenced automatic and calmly walked down the line of bales. As he moved, he fired two rounds into each of them. The sound of the weed eater working away outside was more than enough to cover the sound of the muffled reports. He walked back up the other side of the container and repeated the process. Now he had only two of the fourteen rounds left. He replaced the magazine with another from his jacket pocket. He smiled at Sami Somsak.
“In case you decided to substitute armed men for my money,” he said. “In which case they will be very dead. Open it,” he commanded pointing at the first bale. The truck driver looked at Sami, who nodded. The man slowly produced a large folding knife from his pocket. He showed it to Lu. Then he began slicing the bindings and the thick plastic outer covering on top of the bale that was a substitute for the hemp that had been cut away previously. Soon the money was exposed.
Lu held out a hand and the driver passed him a block of banknotes.
“Deeper,” Lu said as he examined the notes he held. The driver shifted several blocks of notes and buried his arms deep into the centre of the bale.
“Too tightly packed,” he grunted in passable English.
“Open that one.” Lu pointed to the second bale. The driver moved to it and began using his knife again.
Holding a large packet of banknotes in his hands, Thomas Lu turned to Sami Somsak who was still standing at the rear of the truck, watching the activities in the container. “Is it all here?”
“It is,” Sami replied.
“The women are on their way,” Lu said as he turned back into the container. The driver had the second bale open and held aloft another