Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [83]
With that, Sami turned. We, his three minders, did the same and walked slowly across the concourse, headed for the exit. I glanced behind. Mendez was following, as were his thugs. So far, so good!
There were two stretch Mercedes limousines and a van awaiting us when we emerged from the terminal. The van was for the luggage. At Sami’s invitation, Mendez and one of his men got into the first Mercedes with him. Jo got in front with the driver, while I got in the rear of the second landship with the other five Colombian thugs. K got in front with the chauffeur.
We pulled away and those of us seated in the lounge-sized cabin of the big limousine looked at each other. I made with the small talk.
“Have any of you been to Singapore before?”
The six looked at each other. One of them, obviously an English speaker, translated. When he had finished, they all shook their heads in unison.
“This is a first time for us,” the translator said in thickly accented but clear English. “We have come to take Raymond home,” he added.
“It was unfortunate that he met a man he could not trust,” I replied. “This man also murdered the family of Mr Somsak.”
The translator did his thing for the others. I had the feeling that he was not senior amongst the drug Mafiosi. One individual, a man with an aesthetically thin face and narrow lips, seemed to be the boss here. He looked more Italian than Spanish Colombian. He sported a large diamond in his left ear and had a diamond-encrusted Rolex the size of a dinner plate on his left wrist. The translation was directed mostly at him. He said something in Spanish and the translation came back at me.
“This man Lu, he is still alive?”
“For the moment,” I replied. “But I think not for long!”
The words were relayed back to Diamond Ear. He nodded and we sat in silence until we arrived at the Shangri-La Hotel. Sami had figured that the Mendez outfit might as well stay where Carlos’s dearly departed brother had stayed, albeit briefly.
When the formalities were over, Sami and Carlos Mendez, along with Jo and the man with the diamond earring, went upstairs to the suite Sami had reserved for the Colombian drug boss. The other five hoods had been allocated rooms on the same corridor as the suite. K and I went up in the elevator with them. The bellhop pushing the loaded baggage trolley had more than an inkling that these guys weren’t your average tourists. He nervously showed each man to his room, distributed their luggage and didn’t hang about for any tips.
K and I waited outside the double doors of the suite as the Colombians went into their individual rooms. No raised voices sounded from inside Carlos’s suite. I opened the door a crack. There was a small foyer inside. Jo and Mr Diamond were both seated in there, waiting. There was no conversation. Jo didn’t speak Spanish and the other guy had no Thai or English. I eased the door closed, but not before Jo made eye contact. If the Colombian had noticed the door open, he didn’t acknowledge it.
What was happening in the lounge beyond the foyer? Would Mendez believe Sami? Would he accept the offer Sami was going to make him? Sami wanted half a billion dollars for his loss and inconvenience and for the Colombians to return home and forget Intella. In return, Mendez would get Thomas Lu on a plate and the remaining one and a half billion dollars. Time very much would tell which way this particular cookie crumbled.
Carlos Mendez listened to Sami Somsak’s proposition, his face expressionless.
“Through his own greed and pressure from you, Thomas Lu killed my brother, his wife, two children and all his staff. He killed your brother Raymond when they took delivery of the money, which he then shifted before setting the warehouse on fire. He blamed me, of course. We found where he was keeping the money and did take it from him. In retaliation, Mr Lu firebombed my brother’s offices and kidnapped the women who worked there, holding