“You traveling together?” he tilted his head toward Nick, who stood behind her.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Apparently satisfied, he flipped through Maggie’s passport, found an open page and stamped the Singapore seal of entry without hesitation. He did the same for Nick and returned their passports. It wasn’t until Maggie reached for her documents that warmth crossed his face and he smiled.
“Congratulations, Ms. Russell,” he said. “Mr. Wright is very well known here. Welcome to Singapore.”
* * *
“The invitation letter said we would be met by a young Chinese woman,” Maggie told Nick as they exited the baggage claim into the main terminal.
“Is that her?” Nick asked when they saw a woman waving to them. Maggie recognized her from her photo in the arrival instructions.
She approached quickly holding her iPad with their names.
“Dr. Hart, Ms. Russell, welcome to Singapore. It is our honor to have you both here. My name is Lola,” she said and bowed.
The small-framed woman wore a blue dress with the pin on her right collar identifying the Wright’s Kids Foundation.
“You both must be exhausted and thirsty. Please have some cold water,” she said, producing two bottles from a satchel that hung over her shoulder.
“Thank you so much, Lola,” Maggie said, accepting a bottle. “It feels like Guatemala here, hot and humid.”
“Yes, Ms. Russell. In fact, Singapore is even closer to the equator than Guatemala. In the winter the temperature drops a whole degree—from twenty-seven to twenty-six degrees centigrade.” She stopped herself and pondered for a moment. “For you Americans, I guess that’s two degrees, from eighty-three to eighty-one degrees Fahrenheit.” She giggled at her own joke. “I think you will find Singapore quite pleasant this time of year. It gets down to seventy-five at night, so you might desire a jacket in the evening. Please, follow me.” She slipped her iPad into her satchel, then took the handles of Maggie’s and Nick’s roller bags.
“Please, you don’t need to—” Maggie began to protest.
“It is my pleasure,” Lola said, pulling the bags through the terminal and allowing for no further objection.
“There has been a change in your itinerary and your accommodations. Please forgive me. I just learned of it myself an hour ago.”
Maggie suspected by the tone of her voice that they might be staying in the local Motel 6 instead of the luxurious Marina Bay Sands Hotel. But she didn’t care. All she needed was a bed and a hot shower before tonight’s ceremony. She smiled to herself. Lola probably had never seen Guatemala standards.
“Whatever you have for us, Lola, we will be comfortable,” Maggie said and glanced at Nick, who nodded even though he looked pale from the long airplane ride. “We are so appreciative of all you are doing for the Hope Center.”
“Mr. Paul has made the arrangements himself. Please follow me. Dr. Hart, I know of your eye condition. Will you be able to walk a short distance?”
Maggie looked at Nick and put her arm through his. He told her how difficult it had been over the last few months when people treated him like an invalid or a child. “He’ll be fine,” she answered for him, then felt guilty for doing the same.
“Yes, I’m good. Lead the way,” Nick said and squeezed Maggie’s arm.
“Mr. Paul will be meeting us at the private terminal,” Lola said, leading them toward the exit.
“Mr. Paul?” Maggie said, startled. “I thought we were meeting him at the function tonight. Like…tonight…after I wash my hair and take a nice long hot shower, tonight…and put on some makeup.” She stopped dead in her tracks. The twenty-fourth richest man in the world was scheduled to endow the Hope Center with a gift that she could have only dreamed of. She was not about to meet him in her yoga pants and sweatshirt. “I must look like a mess, and I smell like I’ve been traveling for two days. Please,” she pleaded.
“I am so sorry, Ms. Russell. I would have never done this to you. But please, Mr. Paul may be already waiting for us.” She bowed again.
* * *
Maggie was mortified as the SUV pulled up to a modern glass-and-steel building at the north end of the airport. The sign read SINGAPORE EXECUTIVE TERMINAL. No amount of pleading convinced Lola to take them to their hotel and delay the meeting with Mr. Paul. Maggie quickly ran a brush through her hair and applied a coat of lipstick before exiting the vehicle.
Nick got out of the Escalade that had shuttled them between terminals and paused to collect their bags.
“Do not worry. We’ll have your luggage taken care of,” Lola told him.
She led Maggie and Nick into the building, where they were greeted by a blast of air conditioning.
Maggie recognized Mr. Wright Paul right away, looking exactly like his photo. He was casually attired in a pair of tan linen pants and a light blue shirt. Its top three buttons were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up his forearms. His eyes were shielded by Ray-Bans. He was chatting with one of the security guards. As Maggie and Nick approached, the guard looked their way, and Mr. Paul turned and smiled warmly.
“Dr. Hart, Ms. Russell, I am so glad you are here,” he said and strolled toward them. His boyish face and long flowing hair gave him the appearance of a twentysomething, rather than his reported age of forty-seven. “I hope your flight was comfortable.” He extended his hand first to Nick, then to Maggie.
His accent was interesting. Maggie had heard it in those educated in an international school where exposure to many cultures merged—part Brit, part Australian, part Asian.
Mr. Paul put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Mate, I want to know how your eyes are doing. Ms. Russell told my people about the accident. We have rejoiced with the news that your vision is improving.”
His familiarity and warmth seemed to take Nick by surprise. He glanced at Maggie, then back at Wright. “It’s been a challenge. I’m still getting used to them…and to the light…but I’m grateful to be seeing again.”
“I’m grateful as well. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you while you are here. Singapore has some of the best medical care in the world. Speaking of which, please forgive me for my sunglasses.” He peeled them off and revealed a black eye and an angry looking broken blood vessel in his eyeball. “I had an unfortunate accident yesterday.” His chipper countenance grew somber. “The worst part, I’ve lost my favorite horse, Smoothie. He was a brilliant polo pony, one of the best I’ve ever had.”
“I’m so sorry. I know how tough it is to lose an animal,” Nick said.
There was such a change in the pitch of Mr. Paul’s voice that Maggie wondered if the man was about to tear up. “I tell you, mate, it’s like losing one of your family members.”
Maggie watched the two men interact. Mr. Paul’s eyes were enchanting, even with one injured. People might call them hazel, but there was so much more color to them—the inner portion was copper and the outer, emerald green. They were like fancy glass marbles dancing with life. The men were similar in height and build, although Nick had gained a few pounds during his sedentary life the last six months.
Mr. Paul turned his attention to Maggie, who flushed with embarrassment over her haggard state. “Was your flight okay?” he asked.
“Mr. Paul, thank you so much for the tickets. I would have never imagined flying first class. You honestly didn’t need to be so generous….and I’m so embarrassed to meet you in my…uh…condition.”
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way. Please call me Wright, and I would not have it any other way than to fly you over in comfort. The awards ceremony is tonight, and I wanted you to enjoy a restful flight. It was the least I could do,” he said. “I felt so bad that I could not send one of our corporate jets over to get you. Our company has a big launch of our newest drug tomorrow, so the planes are all being used to pick up some of our board members.”
He looked her up and down as she squirmed in her stretchy pants. “If you’d like, there
’s plenty of time to stop for a yoga class.” He grinned. His laughing eyes seemed happy to add to her discomfort. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said sincerely. “I think you are perfectly dressed for flying for two days. As you can see, I too like dressing casually.”
Maggie looked at the floor as heat rose up her neck. The man’s Italian leather shoes probably cost more than anything in her closet. “Thank you for understanding.”
Wright turned to Lola. “Thank you, Lola. I’ll take them from here, and we’ll see you at the function tonight.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Paul. Their luggage is being taken to the helicopter,” she said and bowed deeply to her boss.
“Helicopter?” Nick asked and swallowed hard.
* * *
Wright, who sat in the pilot’s seat, looked at Nick sitting next to him in the copilot’s seat. He spoke to Nick through the headset. “Don’t touch the controls,” he warned. In response, Nick leaned back with his hands up in surrender, then tightly gripped his harness.
Wright looked back at Maggie, who sat in the posh leather seat behind Nick. “You set?”
“Yes, a little nervous is all. The last time I was in a helicopter was in Turkey to meet Nick after the earthquake; it wasn’t quite this nice.”
“This will be a very short ride across the Singapore Strait to my home. A great deal is happening this weekend, and the city will be packed. Besides the foundation dinner tonight and my company’s launch party tomorrow night, Sunday happens to be the Chinese New Year. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you both would be more comfortable in my home. The city will be outlandish, but at least you will still be able to view the fireworks from my place.”
Wright scanned the tarmac and pushed a red button on the control stick. “Tower, this is Singapore 4012, ready for flight,” he said into his mic.
“Singapore 4012, you are cleared for liftoff from Heliport 60 right,” the tower replied.
Maggie watched Wright push three buttons on the high-tech dash with his right hand and pull a lever with his left. The helicopter’s engines roared, the rotors throbbed, and the entire aircraft began to lift. Wright once again scanned the area, and in seconds they were off the ground. Maggie was surprised that her anxiety lifted as well. There was something about this man that made her feel very comfortable.
CHAPTER 11
WEALTH
The helicopter ride was quick and uneventful compared to Nick’s previous experiences. The throb of the chopper blades zipped his brain back to his rescue in Turkey, where the flash grenade had plunged him into darkness. Now his vision continued to improve, especially since escaping the dry air of the long transcontinental flight. His moisturizing eye drops gave him some relief from the burning that still plagued him.
He pushed the painful memories from his mind as Wright had lifted off from the Singapore Airport and veered out over the Singapore Strait. Wright explained that its waters flowed into the Pacific Ocean. The skyscrapers of downtown Singapore towered in the distance. Wright promised to show them the city tonight.
The flight lasted only fifteen minutes. It wasn’t long before they circled above an island off the tip of the city.
“It looks like a shark, don’t you think?” Wright asked.
At first, Nick didn’t see it. But as Wright swung the aircraft around the island, Nick could see the silhouette of a shark with its gaping mouth ready to take a bite out of the sea. A peninsula jutting into the water formed a nose, and a small inlet of water created its eye. But its mouth did not glisten with large teeth; instead, it was filled with white sand and crystal-clear Caribbean-colored water.
“Raffles Island…my home,” Wright said and banked the helicopter to the right. “Sir Thomas Samford Raffles founded Colonial Singapore as a trading post of the East India Company in 1819. His daughter Ella married my great-great-grandfather, George Brooke. The island has been in the family for a while.” He glanced at Nick and Maggie and smiled.
The island appeared uninhabited with no heliport in sight. They skimmed over the island’s thick jungle toward the mouth of the shark and the sandy beach. Nick finally saw where Wright was aiming. The heliport was camouflaged, painted the same dark green of the foliage. Wright effortlessly piloted the craft onto the pad and shut down the engines.
“Is this okay?” Wright asked.
“Of course,” Nick said, having no idea what to expect and not knowing what else to say.
They exited the air-conditioned helicopter to an ocean breeze carrying warm humidity and fragrances of the sea. Seagulls flew overhead, complaining with high-pitched cries about the intrusion.
Two young, barefooted women with skin glowing from the island sun greeted them with warm smiles. They were dressed in red and yellow sarongs with large red hibiscuses adorning their long black hair.
“Please take Dr. Hart’s and Ms. Russell’s things to the guest house,” Wright instructed the pair.
He waved Nick and Maggie to follow him down a path through the thick trees that shielded them from the sun. Songbirds chattered in the dense canopy, and the ocean lapped at the sandy beach glistening through the trees.
“The trees are mahogany, angsana and what we call rain trees,” Wright said.
Nick smiled and nodded, continuing down the pathway to a compound up ahead. He had pictured a cutting-edge glass-and-steel building for the wealthy entrepreneur. But what they approached looked more like something out of Robinson Crusoe.
Wright’s home was an open-air, wooden structure with bamboo railings and overhanging thatched roofs. Nick felt Wright observing him, probably sensing his amazement at this simple lifestyle.
“This is beautiful,” Maggie said. “It reminds me of Swiss Family Treehouse in Disneyland.”
“I hoped you would like it,” Wright said. “It reminds me of the surroundings where I grew up. My parents stewarded a conservatory preserve in India. But you will find this a bit more…modern and comfortable.”
Wright led them up the front stairs. At the top of the stairs was a fit and shirtless young native man with a calf-length sarong wrapped around his six-pack abs. Like the girls, he was barefoot. A string of wooden beads hung over his muscular chest. Nick snuck a peek at Maggie to see if she noticed. The young man bowed as they entered the house through the open door. Contemporary artwork adorned the walls—swirls and splotches of bright colors accenting the mahogany panels.
The young man smiled at Wright and picked up a tray from an entry table. “Welcome home, sir. May I offer your guests some lemonade?”
“Hey, Christian. Thank you.” Wright stepped to the side and waved toward the wooden platter that the man held with three crystal glasses of pink lemonade.
Nick deferred to Maggie, who accepted the offer. “Thank you,” she said.
Nick followed her lead and took a long gulp of the sweet, ice-cold drink. “Wow, that has to be the best lemonade I’ve ever had.”
“Yes, please have as much as you wish. You will find it is easy to get dehydrated here in the tropics. This is Christian.” Wright motioned to the young man. “He will see to any needs you may have. He is Iban, from Sarawak, across the sea,” he said, pointing to the east.
The young man smiled naturally. “Please let me know how I can best serve you.”
“I know you both must be exhausted but let me give you a quick tour of my home,” Wright said, gesturing to the main room. The space combined a comfortable living area with a museum. There were marine artifacts of all kinds on tables and in cases. A Ramsden Sextant sat in a mahogany case, highlighted on black felt and surrounded by old gold coins. The real thing, no doubt.
A modern kitchen tucked off the living area sat to the right. People bustled in the kitchen until they saw Wright and stopped and smiled. A man in a tall chef’s hat stepped forward, wiping his hands on a white towel.
“This is Mario, our executive chef,” Wright said. “He will fix you whatever your hearts' desire.”
Mario smiled and said, “It will be my p
leasure.” He nodded to one of his underlings, who offered a plate of warm cookies to Maggie and Nick. “These are my special white-chocolate mango cookies,” Mario said.
“But be forewarned,” Wright spoke up. “They are like crack cocaine.” He laughed.
Nick bit into a cookie and glanced at Maggie. He saw in her face what he was feeling—the ease and contentment that filled the compound.
Maggie bit into a cookie. “Oh, my gosh,” she said. “You better lock those away from me.”
“You have a whole plate to yourself in your room.” Wright laughed as he led them to the veranda. Nick and Maggie, their mouths stuffed with cookies, marveled at the scene. It looked like something out of one of the world’s best resorts, with its thatched-roof bungalows surrounding an inviting pool. The swimming pool was designed to look as though it flowed directly into the ocean. “This is my favorite room of the house,” Wright said, “one I hope you’ll take advantage of.”
The veranda and infinity pool emptied into the blue-green waters of the bay. A semicircular white-sand beach stretched a half mile in each direction. The sea flowed with gentle waves that softly brushed the shore. A group of white egrets, chasing the waves back and forth and scrounging for sea life, were the only inhabitants on the beach.
“My island is cradled by Indonesia. Singapore is across the strait to the north, and my real home, Borneo, is across the sea.”
“Borneo?” Maggie asked.
“Ah yes, Borneo. It is the third largest island in the world—only Greenland and New Guinea beat us. It is shared by three countries, Malaysia, Brunei and Indonesia. The Malaysian portion includes two states, Sarawak and Sabah. Sarawak is my real home. It is the most beautiful place in the world—home of orangutans and my favorite people group in the world, the Iban.”
The Rusted Scalpel Page 9
