Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [81]
“And loyalty, Daniel. I’m loyal to people who hurt for me.”
“I know. Sorry, that was uncalled for,” I said, and it was uncalled for. Sami Somsak was one of the most generous people I’d ever met.
“Accepted, Daniel. I know about Simone. I’m sorry about that, but just give her a little time.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. What about Lu? Did you send him to meet his scaly ancestors?”
“He’s alive,” Sami replied dryly. “I will present him to the Mendez brothers along with most of the cash. I will deduct significant compensation, somewhere in the region of half a billion dollars.”
“They won’t like that.”
“No, but that is the only hand they have to play. If they don’t accept that then they and Thomas Lu are on a fast train to hell. Will you stay?”
“Okay. What time do they fly in?”
“ETA is 13:55. I will have Jo pick you up at the usual spot at 12:30. Wear mourning clothes …”
“Yeah, and look dangerous,” I added. Sami chuckled and the call was over.
I looked at the bottle of JD and put the top back on. I was going to shower, dress and head out. Sitting in my hotel room getting shit faced wasn’t going to earn me anything other than a melancholy hangover. The bar I’d discovered up behind Centrepoint, the Cable Car, was a good place to start.
Thomas Lu was in agony. The pain in his shoulder was so bad that he was whimpering. The long blade had sliced and torn its way through his shoulder. It was a deep, wicked wound, inflicted when Somsak’s men had dragged him from the container. They had put heavy pads on the wound, strapped it, and now he sat on the cold concrete floor of a storage room, hurting.
Lu’s good wrist was handcuffed to a galvanised water pipe. There was a water bottle on the floor beside him but there was no food, no toilet bucket. Lu could stand but with great difficulty, the handcuff sliding up the pipe. He did that now, gasping with pain. He unfastened his flies, unable to hold his penis with his injured hand, and stretching as far as he could, he relieved himself. The acrid smell of urine filled the air.
With difficulty, he managed to close his flies and sat where he had been before. He had no alternative. He moaned in agony, and then felt warm wetness under his buttocks. The floor wasn’t level. The urine he had discharged had followed the slope of the floor and found him. Thomas Lu cursed, but he didn’t move. There was nowhere to move to.
The pub was a fun place. I was positioned at a table before the regulars rolled in. When they did, they included me in their conversations and banter. They were a mixed bunch of Singapore residents: Chinese, Indian and the inevitable British expats. When they discovered that Ed Davidson was Australian, Oz jokes abounded. I think my accent confused some of them at first; however, I covered it up by saying I’d been born in the UK.
It was after nine when I left the place with invitations to come again ringing in my ears. I wandered down Orchard Road in a state of more or less happy intoxication. As I navigated my way along Bras Basah, I realised I hadn’t eaten for far too long. I detoured into Chijmes and found a restaurant where I ordered steak. I didn’t need anything more to drink. It had been a long day, and once again, I hadn’t actually killed anyone.
30
Carlos Mendez watched as Singapore appeared below the wings of the Global Express 5000 as it started to drop through the clouds. The Mendez brothers had owned the forty-five-million-dollar aircraft for two years, and apart from a brief excursion to Chile, Carlos had never flown in it. He hated flying.
There were only ten seats in the aircraft. The bed at the rear was for Carlos. He had slept fitfully off and on throughout the flight. Because of his fear of flying, every change in engine noise or change of direction had caused him to wake up and lie, eyes wide, anticipating disaster. Only the death of his beloved younger brother had made him undertake the flight half way round the world.
Now Carlos had abandoned the bed and was seated in one of the plush leather recliners that were staggered the length of the