‘I could murder a mug of tea.’
She headed down to the galley.
Fifteen minutes later there was a further message from the marina. The Estelle had called to say she’d be alongside at four-thirty.
Sam smiled with satisfaction. ‘We’ll only be twenty minutes behind him.’
‘Well, well, well,’ said Midge. ‘Perhaps there is a God.’
Ten minutes later they arrived at a guano-smeared post marking the entrance to the channel which led through mangrove clumps to the marina. The water here was like brown soup. Sam reduced speed to a point not far above the 5 knots allowed. Midge sat tensely beside him, as more long-tail boats sliced past, their fisherman owners waving giant prawns in the hope of a sale.
The channel narrowed. Ahead, the river was flanked by mangrove roots as spindly as spider-legs. Then, round a bend, the concrete harbour entrance came in view, just as the police radio crackled one more time.
‘Estelle in berth B23. If you quick, you take the space next.’
‘Okay,’ Sam grimaced. ‘Let the performance begin.’ Uneasily he watched Midge pick her way to the bow and cleat on a line in the way he’d shown her earlier in the day. Her hair was bunched in a pony tail and as she moved about, it flicked from side to side. She’d pulled on a clingy, low-cut tee-shirt over her bikini top.
The sinking sun had burned a hole through the clouds. Sam squinted into it to identify the marker posts at the ends of the pontoons. Spotting the one for row B, he saw the Estelle six slots up, the name in big gold letters across her broad stern. Two males were on deck, busy with ropes. Two women lounged in chairs on the aft sun deck. Sam swung the boat into the row, cut the revs and turned into the empty berth alongside.
‘Port side to, Beth.’
Midge looked baffled.
‘Left side alongside,’ Sam explained.
She moved to the rail with the bow line in her hands as he eased the hull against the finger pontoon, reversing the prop to prevent the bow crunching the quay.
‘Jump!’
She hopped onto the finger, yelping as it dipped under her weight. She grinned sheepishly up at the bridge of the Estelle, then steadied herself and took the rope forward to the main pontoon, staring down at the mooring ring as if it were the most complex piece of technology she’d ever seen.
‘Tie it anyhow, Beth,’ Sam told her, favouring his voice towards their neighbour.
She fed the warp through the ring, then sat holding it, giving a good impression of not knowing what to do next. Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw the man they’d come to seduce step down from his boat.
‘Give you a hand, darling?’ Jimmy Squires’ voice was like raked gravel.
‘I’m so stupid with ropes,’ Midge simpered, handing him the warp.
The former SAS sergeant had curly fair hair, blue-grey eyes and a small v-shaped scar on his left cheek. There was nothing obviously threatening about him, but even bears looked cuddly, Sam reminded himself. He watched to ensure the man knew what he was doing with the lines, then cut the engine and stepped off the boat to secure their stern warp. As she received her lesson in knots, Midge leaned forward to give Squires a look down her front.
‘I’m pretty new to boats,’ Sam heard her gush. ‘Haven’t got the hang of things yet.’
‘Anytime you want coachin’, darlin’ …’
On the aft deck of the Estelle one of the women was plumpish, the other as trim and pretty as Thai girls were meant to be. Sam gave them a friendly nod, then climbed onto the foredeck to attach a second mooring line, passing the end to the man on the pontoon.
‘Reckon I owe you a beer for that,’ he said.
‘Now you’re talking …’
Sam went below, brought out a four-pack from the coolbox, then held out a can to Squires.
‘Steve and Beth.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Squires took the beer and ripped off the ring-pull in one smooth movement. ‘I’m Vince. The bloke up there …’ He pointed to the powerboat’s high flying-bridge, ‘… is Nige. And the girls are Vicky and Jan. Their real names are a mile long and unpronounceable.’
His eyes radiated a cool intensity, but he looked at ease with the world. Midge was standing so close she was almost touching him.
‘Where’ve you come from today?’ Sam asked, raising the can to his lips.
‘Ko Racha Yai,’ Squires answered. ‘Diving. You do any of that?’ He indicated the air bottles secured to the side of the Estelle’s sundeck.
‘Only snorkelling.’
‘That’s good too … Fantastic fish. Water’s gin clear down there. This marina’s a sewer. Only came back in because the pump in the shower packed up. You girls need your luxuries, don’t you, darlin’?’ He smiled condescendingly. ‘What about you? Where’ve you been?’
‘We only picked the boat up this morning. Trying her out. Came back in for some more provisions.’
‘You won’t get out again tonight,’ Squires commented. ‘The tide’s too low.’
‘I know.’
‘Here for the Millennium?’
‘Seemed a good way to celebrate.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Singapore. We work in financial services.’
Squires turned his gaze on Midge. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a money-brain too?’
‘That’s right. Any time you want your assets checking …’
Squires’ chuckle was like a drain overflowing. ‘I think you’ll find them in good order …’
The sound of feet on the pontoon made them turn. It was the mechanic, toolbox in one hand and a small cardboard spares carton in the other.
‘Been waiting for you, you little bugger.’ Squires clapped the young Thai on the shoulder, then swung a leg onto the Estelle. ‘Thanks for the beer. I’ll return the compliment later. Hop over in about an hour if you feel like it.’
‘Mind if we leave the timing loose?’ Sam replied. ‘Not sure how long things’ll take ashore.’
‘If you’re here, you’re here. If you’re not we won’t be offended.’
‘Thanks.’
Sam did a final tidying of the bridge then went below. Midge had preceded him and sat flopped on the saloon berth with her arms spread across the back.
‘That felt too easy,’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’
They looked at one another. Then Sam glanced at the bulkhead clock.
Midge nodded. ‘I’ll get some more clothes on.’ She stepped down into the cabin and started pulling things from her bag. Sam concealed the Thai police radio handset in a drawer, then stuffed a wallet in his pocket.
By the time they stepped onto the pontoon, the clouds had cleared completely, but the sun was well down and had lost its heat. Beneath a thin, long-sleeved top Midge was bra-less, Sam noticed. Her tanned legs protruded from skimpy yellow shorts, and she moved with the fluidity of a cat.
The pontoon ended at a long quay. On the far side was a yacht club with a toilet and shower block. Next to it a restaurant, a café and a small supermarket. Because their initial connection with Squires had gone so smoothly, Sam felt things could only get worse, a suspicion that intensified when he sneaked a glance back down the pontoon.
‘Shit …’
Nige was ambling along the decking behind them.
‘Probably just needs the loo,’ Midge suggested under her breath.
‘Or keeping an eye on us for his master.’
They walked on.
‘Oh my God …’
Sitting in the café was the plain-clothes policeman who’d radioed their berthing instructions. Dark trousers, striped shirt, portable VHF set on the table in front of him, he might as well have been in uniform.
Midge looked away in despair. Too late to shoo the man away. Nige was right behind. They walked quickly past the café and pushed open the door to the shop.
*
Thirty minutes later they returned to the boat carrying plastic bags of provisions, including a couple
of bottles of overpriced Australian fizz. The sun had set by now and the sky was darkening. As they walked down the pontoon they could see Squires’ lean face watching them from the deck of the Estelle. They sensed his suspicion, but when they drew near he held up a long glass, clouded with condensation.
‘Hot work! What you need is one of these.’
‘Great! Be over in a minute.’ Sam swung the bags onto their own deck.
‘What’s your poison, Beth?’
‘I’m a beer girl, Vince.’ She gave him a cheery grin, trying to radiate a confidence she didn’t feel.
‘Beer for you too, Steve?’
Sam gave a thumbs up.
They stowed the shopping below, squeezed the wine bottles into the tiny fridge, then locked up again before stepping across to the other boat. Jan, the prettier of the Thai women, gave Midge a warning glare. The other held out a limp hand for them to shake.
‘How long you guys got for your vacation?’ Squires asked, handing each a can of Singha Draft.
‘A week,’ Sam told him. ‘Escaping the concrete of Singapore and smelling real air for a change. You?’
‘Same idea. Poodling around for a few days, seeing the new century in.’
‘What sort of business are you in, Vince?’ Midge asked.
Sam flinched at the directness of her question.
‘This and that.’ The ex-soldier narrowed his eyes. ‘Know this area?’
‘First time here.’ Sam took a swig of his beer.
For a while they chatted about anchorages and inlets, the price of prawns and which islands had provisioning and restaurants. A second beer followed the first, but Sam noticed Squires had moved onto soft drinks. Nige and Vicky took little part in the conversation, while Jan seemed more than a hanger-on because Squires kept turning to her for approval.
After a while Nige got restless, nudging Vicky until she got up and stepped into the saloon.
‘We’re eating soon,’ Squires announced. ‘Sorry we don’t have enough to ask you to join us.’
‘No problem,’ said Sam, making to stand up.
‘No rush,’ Squires insisted. ‘It’ll be a while before she serves up. Finish your drink and tell us more about the two of you. Finance, you said. Doing what, exactly?’
‘Investment management,’ Sam replied, trying to give the words a mystique they didn’t deserve. ‘Private clients. People who want to use their money cleverly. Which means not losing it to the taxmen.’
‘Or explaining where it comes from …’ Squires suggested, playfully.
‘We … we have to make sure it’s in a useable form,’ Sam cautioned.
‘Of course.’
Tempting smells of hot ginger began to waft up from the galley below. Vicky emerged clutching cutlery which she plonked on the table.
Midge rested her hand on Sam’s arm. ‘Time we left these good people to their dinner, sweetie.’
Squires stood up. ‘Nice to know you. If you’re partying tomorrow night, give us a call on the VHF to say where you’ve dropped your hook.’ He took Midge’s arm as they stepped onto the pontoon. ‘Give us a chance to get to know each other better.’
‘Mmmm … I’d like that.’ She put a leg up onto their own boat.
‘You two been together long?’ His eyes swept over her body like an airport scanner.
‘A while,’ said Sam, uncomfortably realising it was a detail they hadn’t discussed.
‘Nearly a year,’ Midge added.
‘See you in the morning then. Before you head off.’ The drug-runner climbed back over the rail onto the Estelle.
Down in the saloon, they flopped onto the sofas, hunching forward so they could speak without being overheard.
‘Now I know what fledglings feel like,’ Midge whispered eventually. ‘When a cat gets hold of them.’ She tilted her head back and let out a long gasp of relief. The exposed ridge of her throat had a purity to it which Sam found disturbingly erotic.
The smell of the food on the Estelle had made him hungry. Midge read his mind.
‘Try that restaurant next to the yacht club?’ she suggested.
‘Absolutely.’
Going ashore again would take his mind off the fact that in a couple of hours he’d be sharing a bed with this disconcertingly well-put-together woman, but with physical contact strictly taboo.
Friday, 31 December
Millennium Eve
Sam was woken by the daylight streaming in through the cabin window. Instantly alert, he sat up and peered out, fearing their neighbour might have slipped away in the night. But the Estelle was still there.
He swung his legs to the floor and listened. Rigging pinged against a mast nearby, signifying a breeze. Its sound triggered a yearning to be under sail.
The space where Midge had lain was empty. He found her in the galley making coffee, still wearing the tee-shirt and briefs she’d slept in. The sight of her neat behind and slim brown thighs as she stuck bread under the grill brought him fully awake.
‘Been up long?’ He rubbed his eyes. The bulkhead clock said 7.15.
‘Half the bloody night. You were snoring like a walrus.’
‘Sorry.’
‘How does Julie put up with it?’
‘Elbows me in the ribs and I turn over. If you hadn’t been so against laying your hands on my body …’
‘Yeah, yeah …’
‘Any sign of life next door?’
‘Nope.’ She turned and looked quizzically at him. ‘Who d’you reckon sleeps with whom over there?’
‘Jimmy has Jan,’ said Sam firmly.
‘You’d think. Only he’s not getting any. That guy was gagging for it last night. And why itch to make out with me if he had that little Thai poppet to play with?’
‘Maybe you’ve got a better bum.’
She raised a contemptuous eyebrow. ‘Seriously, I don’t get the impression Jan’s his playmate. She’s more like a minder.’
‘And Vicky?’
‘Does the cooking – and anything else Nige wants. Looks to me like he found her in some bar. Not a very classy bar at that.’
‘Thai police have anything on them?’
‘Nothing useful. They tailed Jimmy to the airport, which is where Jan joined him. But they don’t know who she is. The name on her ticket didn’t fit anything on official records.’
‘So,’ Sam murmured, taking the coffee Midge offered him, ‘where do we go from here, Inspector?’
‘Whatever happens, we stick with him.’
‘And if he doesn’t tell us where he’s going?’
‘Then I’ll have to make it clear I just can’t bear to be parted from him.’ She set her jaw, her eyes steely with determination.
After they’d breakfasted and tidied the saloon, she handed him the wrench he’d used on the engine.
‘I found this on the floor. Don’t want to nag, but it probably has a home.’
‘Leave it by the cooker and I’ll put it away in a while.’
They washed, put on shorts and fresh tee-shirts, then went on deck to top up the water tank from a hose on the pontoon.
It was well after nine before Squires made an appearance, leaning over the rail of the Estelle’s sundeck. When he spoke, there was a coolness to his voice that made them both uneasy.
‘Off shortly, are you?’
‘We were just talking about that,’ Sam hedged. ‘What about you?’
‘The girls have gone shopping. Nige and I plan to relax until they get back. He’s still in his pit, lazy bugger. Then we’ll see. Might go north to Phang Nga, maybe over to Phi-Phi. Jan’s got a friend visiting today.’
Sam’s antennae twitched. There’d been no mention of a visitor last night.
‘We still going to be able to toast the Millennium with you guys tonight?’ Midge checked, stepping onto the foredeck and spreading out a towel to lie on.
‘Maybe.’ As Squires watched her apply cream to her legs, he smiled like a man who’d spotted a trap but who reckoned falling
into it might be rather pleasurable. He turned his attention to Sam again. ‘By the way, Steve, I was interested in what you were saying last night.’
There was something distinctly disingenuous about the way Squires said it.
‘Anything in particular?’
‘How you preserve confidentiality when you’re hiding clients’ money …’
It was as if Squires was testing him on his cover story, but he played along. No alternative. He talked about nominee holdings and anonymous accounts. Squires listened hard, putting in questions every few minutes.
‘Interested for yourself?’ Sam queried.
The drug trader half-smiled and shook his head. ‘For a friend.’
It always was. ‘I’ll get you one of my cards. You can pass it on to him.’
A charade, but it couldn’t be him that ended it. As he turned to enter the saloon Squires called after him.
‘While you’re at it, give me one of Beth’s too.’
Sam rummaged in his bag for the visiting cards they’d printed the previous day. Then he felt the boat rock slightly. He looked through the window. Jimmy Squires had come aboard. Midge had sat up and was making room for him on the deck.
Sam re-emerged with the cards in his hand. Midge shot him a glare that said to leave her to get on with her seduction, so he climbed up to the bridge and pretended to busy himself with charts and the pilot book. Over on the Estelle Nige had surfaced. He was facing away from them, his eyes on the shore. Sam followed his gaze and saw the women returning. Squires had spotted them too and was hunching forward in anticipation.
Jan’s ‘friend’ turned out to be male. An oriental, dressed in a white polo shirt and dark trousers. He strode purposefully towards them, scowling at their foredeck as if there was something seriously amiss there which needed dealing with immediately.
Sam sensed things were about to go horribly wrong. He saw the alarm on Midge’s face and watched her pull her knees to her chest in an instinctive move to protect herself. He guessed she’d recognised the man.
By the time he’d clattered down to the deck, Squires was on his feet. Midge too, clutching the towel to her chest.
‘Scuse me a minute …’ she whispered, trying to slip away.
The Burma Legacy Page 2
