Her Master's Voice

by Jacqueline George

  “It seemed to be quite small.”

  “Yes, and it didn’t get any bigger. I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

  “Not that I’m going to try. I prefer my men without tits. Thinking about it, I’d like to see a picture of you sucking her cock. I might bring her here one night just so as I could take one. I could use it for blackmail.”

  “Someone’s bottom’s in danger…” threatened Tim.

  “No, you wouldn’t dare. They’d hear.”

  “Good for them. Good for you too. I’m sure you’d all be better for a bit of discipline now and then.”

  “You try anything of the sort and we’ll all gang up on you. I’m not alone now. I’m sure we could tie you up, and it wouldn’t be me wearing a chain and having my bottom spanked.”

  Chapter 31

  For once, Tim was going out with the boys. Alistair had called and come around to pick him up. Ahmed drove the Mercedes and as they cruised into town Alistair explained the occasion. “We’ve been invited for an Indian dinner, and there’s someone you ought to meet. I’ll be very interested to hear what you think of him.”

  “So where are we going?”

  “Serangoon Road. The best Indian food in Singapore. Have you tried the Grand Trunk Road restaurant? It’s good, the best. They serve your food on a banana leaf and you eat with your fingers. I hope you’re not going to embarrass me by asking for a fork?”

  “No, I expect I’ll manage, but it doesn’t sound very grand if they eat from banana leaves.”

  “Just tradition, and I suppose it’s more hygienic than a plate washed in some of the Indian kitchens I’ve seen. As far as eating with my fingers, well, I washed them myself. Anyway, the food’s so good it would be a shame to eat it any other way.”

  “But who are we meeting? Ranji’s father?”

  “Patience, my friend, patience. It won’t be long.”

  Ahmed turned into the crush of Serangoon Road and crept forward. In the middle of the second block he stopped and they jumped out. The Grand Trunk Road restaurant stood opposite, a grand shophouse with a garish neon sign. They were ushered upstairs into a crowded room full of Indian men sitting cross-legged on the floor at low tables. They were doing as much talking as eating and the noise was loud. Meals covered the tables, colourful food laid out on dark green banana leaves. It all smelt delightful and Tim’s mouth watered.

  They were guided to a screened area at the end of the main room where a man dressed in the white robes of a monk was waiting for them, seated peacefully behind a low table. Without rising, he gestured for them to sit down. Following Alistair’s lead, Tim slipped off his shoes and folded himself down at the table.

  “Papi, my friend,” started Alistair, “here is Tim, Sherry’s husband.”

  Tim reached across the table to shake Papi’s hand. It felt plump and soft. Tim was intrigued by this influential man. He did not look imposing. Medium height, he guessed, and definitely carrying more weight than he needed. Shaved head, plump face, round glasses with bare wire frames. He did not look particularly Indian. He had something of an East Asian cast to his features. His eyes were deep and dark with long and feminine lashes.

  He wore his robe wrapped around him leaving one rounded shoulder bare. He smiled as he held Tim’s hand in both of his. “I am so happy to meet you, Tim.” His voice was low, almost husky, and his accent was clearly Indian. “Your wife is one of my most earnest students. I am very pleased with her progress. You must also be pleased with her. She is flourishing.”

  “Yes—yes, she is. I suppose I ought to thank you.” Here am I, Tim thought, thanking the man who taught Sherry to suck cocks all over Singapore. Not to mention his own.

  “No trouble. No trouble at all, my friend,” he turned to Alistair, “and you, Alistair? How are you? You did not bring those delightful young ladies of yours? I still wait for the day when you let me have them as students.”

  Alistair chuckled. “I can just imagine the pair of them in your class. They’d never stop talking.”

  “Well, well. Every student has her own way to follow. And your father? Is he well?”

  “Yes, very well. There’s no danger of my becoming Sultan any time soon, praise God. So what are you offering us tonight?”

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry. Sometimes I forget how busy you all are out in the world. You should learn to relax. Consider the food and savour it before it arrives. Anyway, I have organised some beer for you. Will that suit you, Tim?” He clapped his hands and a waiter appeared.

  When he returned he carried three bottles of Tsingtao beer, frosty cold. He set the tray down and Papi filled the glasses. Tim toyed with the idea of considering and savouring the beer before he sipped, but quickly gave up. He just drank it instead. The beer tasted smooth and full of flavour. Maybe, he thought, it pays to drink first and consider afterwards. He continued to watch Papi in an effort to see what he had that gave him such influence over Sherry and the other students.

  Alistair continued the conversation. “So tell us, Papi. How is your ashram these days?”

  “It comes and goes. Sometimes very busy, sometimes I have time to think. Now it is normal, I think. Sherry has brought me another student, Darti, do you know her Alistair? A very unusual student, such energy. Understanding her is like trying to catch rain drops in a sieve, but she is progressing. If she continues to concentrate, she will be the sort of student that a teacher experiences only once or twice in a lifetime. She has a great female element in her.”

  Alistair was interested. “Really? A great female element? Now I see why Tim has not introduced me. I shall have to insist. She sounds very interesting. What do you say, Tim? Do you think I’d find her interesting? Or are you keeping her for yourself?”

  “She’s interesting, alright. Very interesting, and sexy too, but I don’t give you much of a chance. Hangchi seems to be taking all of her time at the moment. He takes her around Singapore, to places like the zoo and the bird park.”

  “Hangchi? With a woman? I can’t believe it. He’s an old bachelor. I don’t think he knows what women are for.”

  “You’re right. He probably thinks she’s his daughter. Or granddaughter.”

  “Well, well, well. Now you’ve surprised me. If I were you, Papi, I’d be careful with that lady. You don’t want to be leading the Inspector’s daughter astray. I can’t imagine what he’d do to you. He’s already keeping a close eye on you.”

  Papi acted surprised. “Me? Why would he be interested in me? I’m only a teacher.”

  Alistair smiled. “Of course, Papi, but you do have business interests as well. I think he’s particularly interested in an illegal shipment that he found on the Aljunied estate. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  If Papi was troubled by the question, he gave no sign of it. “No, nothing at all. I can set his mind at rest.”

  “Good, good. I just thought I’d mention it. Perhaps he should be looking at your friends…”

  “I’m sure the good Inspector would be wasting his time. I don’t know where he gets his ideas. I have to tell you, Tim, that in Singapore Indian people are not always treated with fairness. Always Chinese people are suspicious of us, thinking the worst.”

  Alistair smiled. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Now, what are you going to give us to eat, Papi. I’m starving.”

  The food came quickly. Banana leaf platters were laid in front of them and a variety of small vegetable dishes covered the table. Tim served himself under Papi’s direction and ate small mouthfuls wrapped in torn chapatti. The variety was delicious, and he washed down the fiery food with more beer.

  Papi spoke as a man with wide interests. They discussed business in Singapore and Malaysia, and it was clear that he had a personal involvement. Then they moved on to the oil industry and Papi questioned Tim closely in an effort to understand the process of drilling. Alistair tried to bring the conversation around to terrorism and Islam, but Papi would not be drawn. He claimed to know very little
about it.

  They left the restaurant together, feeling full and contented. Papi invited them to his office to sample his malt whisky. “You will see the room your wife comes to every week,” he said to Tim. “I hope you will find it interesting.”

  They followed Papi across the road and up the steep steps leading to the ashram. For all his weight, he climbed nimbly and was soon unlocking the door. It opened into a large dark room with three tall windows letting in light from the street. Papi reached for the light switch but no light came. He flicked it on and off. “Never mind. We will repair the lights tomorrow. Come into my office. I have candles there.”

  Tim followed Alistair into the room. He stepped through the doorway and a bright light flashed into his eyes. Shouting filled the air and strong hands were grasping the back of his shirt and pulling him down. “Stop—stop—stop!” a voice was shouting. He struggled, trying to reach the people behind him as he started to understand that the men in front of him, dangerous Chinese men, were holding pistols. Black and menacing, and pointed at him. He stopped fighting and tried to understand what he was looking at.

  Alistair was already on the floor, buried under two men who were forcing his arms up behind his back. Papi, in front of him, had been stripped of his robe. He was still standing, a fat man in long cotton drawers, his glasses crushed on the floor and his arms held behind him. He showed no inclination to struggle.

  The scene was slowly making an impression on Tim. There were two men with powerful torches giving light to the room and illuminating the others with their pistols trained on him. He guessed there were two more behind him, pushing his hands together behind his back and trying to fasten something around his wrists. He was watching like a dazed spectator. He was not part of it. The men did not want him.

  The men behind him finally secured his wrists with the zipping sound of a cable tie being pulled tight. One of them bent to do the same to his ankles. Alistair, his face pressed to the wooden floor, was being tied up in the same way. Papi had started to struggle now, his captors fighting to hold on. Tim was pushed to the floor. The men were talking to each other in Chinese. A rough hand pulled his head back. In the corner of his eye he saw an aerosol being sprayed into a gauze pad and smelled ether. The pad was clamped over his face and he lost consciousness.

  Chapter 32

  Sherry did not call Hangchi until after two o’clock in the morning. Darti had come to her room in tears. She was frantic with worry for Tim and forced Sherry to call. At first Hangchi tried to soothe her but Darti had taken the phone and convinced him very quickly.

  He came to the door two hours later looking tired and worried. “No news yet. I’ve called Alistair’s house and they’re not there. Apparently they were going to have dinner with Papi Bombar. I’ve sent someone around to find Papi but he’s not at home either. The ashram door was open and there were a pair of broken glasses on the floor, probably Papi’s. Things don’t look good.”

  Sherry slumped onto the sofa. What had happened to Tim? It was a nightmare. Hangchi sat beside her and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “I’ve come to get Darti. I want to take her down to the ashram. Are you going to be all right by yourself? Janice will sit with you.”

  She waited. There was nothing else to do. Sometimes she cried. Sometimes she tried to tidy the room. Janice put a cassette into the stereo and Boney M played in the background. Janice seemed as distraught as she was. Hangchi returned at dawn and sat with her while Darti and Janice made some breakfast.

  “It doesn’t look too good,” he told her. “They ate at The Grand Trunk Road and then they seem to have gone on to the ashram. I expect Papi was going to offer them a drink but someone was waiting for them. A few people. There were all sorts of scuff marks on the floor and Papi’s glasses. And his robe. It looks as if there was some sort of struggle—Papi’s glasses had been trodden on—but there was no blood. That’s a good sign, if you like.

  “Whoever it was, they seem to have been quite clean. No clues, apart from one plastic cable tie that might be related. The floor’s polished wood so we’re looking for fingerprints. If they didn’t wear gloves, of course. Our men are going around asking for information. Someone must have seen how they were taken away. They all live on top of each other down there, and everyone knows his neighbour’s business. We’ll get some sort of lead from them, I expect, but probably nothing useful. People don’t go to all the trouble of setting up a job like this and then use an identifiable vehicle to make their getaway.

  “No, the best sign is that they were apparently taken alive. If it had been a contract or a terrorist hit, all three would have been killed there and then. I’m still trying to get my mind around why they were taken. Who’d want all three? An Indian, a Malay and an Englishman. Doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Did Darti help?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know if I understand that either. She says there were a lot of men involved. They were waiting in the dark and they had guns and big torches. Strangest thing is she says they were Chinese. She tried to repeat some of their words, just fragments, and they sound like Hakka. Hard to tell because her pronunciation’s not very good and anyway, Chinese attackers just make things seem stranger. I shall have to think about it. I’m not running the case but I’ve got a watching brief on it because I told my bosses that Tim was my informant. It’s better that way because I don’t have so many people directly under me, but now there are lots of police involved. I expect we’ll know a bit more by the end of the day. That’s usually how these things work.”

  Ranji called soon after Hangchi had left. She was crying for Papi Bombar and they cried together when she heard that Tim and Alistair had been taken too. She called back after an hour with the news that the local word was that the Irishman had been behind it.

  At first Hangchi was inclined to discount the story but he did admit that the Irishman and his people were Hakka, so perhaps the rumour had something in it. He called back soon after and said he was coming for Darti again. He wanted to know her shoe size and told Sherry to have her waiting with her hair pinned up. He brushed off Sherry’s questions and hung up.

  He pulled up in a proper police car with a uniformed driver. He was carrying a navy blue police uniform for Darti and Sherry took her upstairs to change.

  Sherry thought she looked terrible. From her silly cap down to her clunky shoes, the uniform could not have suited her less, and she looked nervous. Sherry kissed her and told her to stand up and pretend she really was a police woman. That seemed to do the trick and she followed Hangchi out to the car looking something like a defender of the community.

  They were away for nearly two hours. Darti rushed upstairs to change into normal clothes as soon as they got back and left Hangchi to tell the story.

  “It was the Irishman. Darti’s sure of it. I couldn’t do anything, of course, I could only insist on seeing him to ask a few more questions about the bombing, and that was difficult enough. I asked him about the guns we recovered from the Aljunied Estate, just to let him know he’s in our sights. Of course, I didn’t get anything useful out of him, but the important thing is that he’s involved and that Darti says our people are not in Telok Blangah and never have been.

  “So we’re going to start putting a little pressure on his friends. They won’t like to hear that the Irishman’s kidnapped Alistair. He’s a very important person on the other side of the causeway, and they all have businesses over there. If word gets out on the streets that Chinese kidnappers have him, there’ll be riots. And riots are bad for business.”

  “But why would the Irishman take him? And Tim and Papi? What does he want with them?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense at all. I could understand him have a falling out with the Indians and maybe grabbing Papi as a hostage. Or I could see him being upset with Alistair, though it’d be senseless to touch him. I can’t see there’s any reason at all for him to be interested in Tim. Oh well, I’d better get back to the of
fice and see if anything’s come up. Say goodbye to Darti for me, and I’ll pick up her uniform this evening.”

  That night Sherry lay in bed crying quietly. She had become used to sleeping with Tim every night and now his side of the bed was empty. The dark brought horrible thoughts that forced themselves onto her. Her imagination insisted on conjuring up images of what Tim might be suffering now. She got up and went to the bathroom for a sleeping pill.

  Her bedroom door clicked open and her friends slipped in. She drifted into sleep with Darti and Janice beside her.

  Next morning, she awoke with a start and looked around. The weight of Tim’s disappearance sank back onto her shoulders. Beside her Darti and Janice slept curled up together, black hair mingling on the pillow. Janice had a black lacy nightdress and panties, but Darti wore a child’s pyjamas covered in bouncy rabbits. She looked at the alarm—six twenty. She would have to wait before calling Hangchi for the latest news. She got up and started to do things. It would be a long day.

  Chapter 33

  It was wet and it was noisy, but in the end it was the stink that woke him. Pungent, ammoniac, farmyard, it overwhelmed him. He floated back to consciousness, trapped, confined and unable to move. He could not see. He was being crushed from all sides by hard bands that cut into him, and a heavy weight lay above him. It was dark.

  Slowly he started to make sense of his surroundings. He was moving, in some kind of vehicle. He could hear an engine and feel the drumming of a truck moving rapidly on a road. He was wet, and there was water running over his face. Rain water, he supposed. The smell crystallized in his mind. Pigs. The stink of the pig sty. It dawned on him that the weight above him was warm and breathing lightly, probably a pig. He was in a pig basket, buried in a load of pigs. The pigs were in tubular open-work baskets made of thick rattan. Strong, light and completely confining. The strength of his rattan cage bore most of the weight of the pigs above. The animals lay quietly, resigned to their fate.