Singapore Girl_An edge of your seat thriller that will have you hooked

by Murray Bailey

  “Stands to reason you’d either be serving or ex-army.”

  “What else do you know?”

  “Untie me first.”

  “Tell me what you know and then I’ll untie you.”

  I thought it unlikely but I had little option. So I said, “Your little gang is producing illegal alcohol and drugs. You distribute via the aid workers.” I was thinking as I spoke. “But the transaction doesn’t happen here, does it? You don’t want them here so you meet at prearranged spots, different each time. You use misplaced mile markers so the driver knows which jungle track to take. You exchange samsoo for their goods. You add the drugs and alcohol and deliver on their behalf. Oh, and the exchange is easy. You have your own Bedford. You have an aid truck. This way, they leave in one and return in yours.”

  Smith nodded. “How did you figure that?”

  “There’s a character on the tailgate of each of them. The aid unit have two trucks but I’ve seen three different ones. Who were you dealing with at the camp?”

  “No one in particular. Anyone.” I could see he was proud of the arrangement.

  “And you set this all up?”

  “Yep,” he said again. “So you see, we’re no problem really. We’re just providing a service.”

  “With amphetamines and opium?”

  “Not opium. Morphine. Do you know the price of morphine? It’s like liquid gold. We produce the amphetamines but just get as much morphine as we can lay our hands on. It’s not much, but when we get it we sell it on to the hospitals.”

  “And some users,” I said, thinking of Sergeant Goodwyn in Malacca.

  “Can’t help if they use it themselves.”

  I said, “Where does Sergeant Gary Bender fit in?”

  Smith just stared at me.

  I said, “AWOL about ten months ago from BVD 221.”

  Smith said nothing.

  “Thirteen days ago there was a body on the causeway.”

  “I heard.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Connected to BVD 221,” I said, watching him closely.

  He looked surprised. “Really?”

  “Is it Gary Bender?”

  Then he laughed. “No. I can categorically tell you it’s not him.”

  “But you said you didn’t—”

  “It isn’t Gary Bender because he’s alive and well.”

  And then I got it. The missing truck. It was here. I said, “You’re Bender.”

  He grinned. “Much more lucrative outside the army, but I have no complaints because it gave me this opportunity and lots of contacts.”

  “So who was the body?”

  “Like I said, I’ve no idea.”

  “Were you responsible for the warning?”

  “What are you talking about?” Suddenly he was serious.

  I said, “I received a note in Chinese to back off my investigation.”

  “Nothing to do with us.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because…” And then he shouted, “Guards!” before turning back to me. “Because, my friend, you aren’t a problem.”

  Two Chinese men burst into the hut, grabbed me and dragged me into the sunlight.

  We were still in the jungle but it was a broad clearing with fifteen huts built from a mix of attap and corrugated iron. There was a large dust bowl area in front of the huts and then a corrugated iron building big enough to park three Bedford trucks. But the aid lorry was parked with other vehicles: jeeps and a smaller truck that looked like a Japanese hangover from the Second World War. I figured that was the one we’d been in earlier. The one that had brought us here.

  The large building had a smoking chimney, and I guessed this was their distillery. It looked temporary and able to be taken down and moved with little notice.

  There was a cluster of saplings and a large dead tree trunk, sad and grey against the dusty red ground.

  I counted twenty-four men, all Chinese, all armed. They wore the clothes of peasants. There was no sign of the light green uniform of the insurgents. These men weren’t communist bandits.

  In the centre of the dust bowl was a Chinese man, taller than the rest and smartly dressed. From the way Bender and the Chinese spoke, I figured Bender wasn’t in charge here. The other man was.

  Bender raised his voice to the man and received a backhand to the face for his insubordination. I wondered if he’d argued in my defence. But then he just walked away.

  With a bark from the Chinese leader, I found myself forced to kneel.

  In reasonable though flat English, the leader said, “He doesn’t think I should kill you. He thinks maybe you could work with us.”

  I bowed my head deferentially. “Untie my hands and let’s share tea.”

  “I don’t think so. You have served your purpose and told us what you know. Alive you are a liability. Dead you are another problem gone away.”

  He had a pistol in his hand and raised it. His men gathered around to witness the execution.

  I took a breath and looked at the barrel. I saw his finger twitch.

  “Andrew Yipp,” I said.

  His finger eased.

  “What about him?”

  I had no idea. I was simply scrabbling for an excuse to stay alive. “Untie my hands…”

  “What about Mr Yipp?” I sensed he wasn’t just intrigued but also afraid or at least concerned.

  “I know him and…”

  The leader tossed back his head and laughed. For a second I was focused on his neck. His face looked young but the loose skin on his neck said older. Much older.

  And then the neck turned red and the laughing was choked off. Blood splattered around me and the air was filled with a thousand gunshots.

  THIRTY-THREE

  I was moving before the Chinese guy hit the ground. I got down and rolled, kept low and assessed the situation. People were scattering and shooting. I couldn’t see the assailants. Gunfire came from the jungle and the defenders shot wildly into the trees.

  There were two bodies close by so I rolled to them, partly for protection and partly because I needed to get the ropes off my hands.

  I found a knife and started squirming on the ground, cutting the cords. Bullets whizzed overhead and rattled on the metal huts.

  Another gang member went down in front of me. He was immediately on his feet again, screaming and firing blindly. Multiple shots spun him back to the ground.

  In the dust bowl we were exposed and survival looked unlikely, especially since the attackers still hadn’t shown themselves.

  Most of the gang members still alive had made it to the cover of the huts. Others were firing from the corrugated iron building.

  No way was I going to make it to the huts, so I lay for a minute and finished cutting through the ropes. The Beretta was soon in my hand and I took a breath.

  The closest hut was less than thirty yards away but the dead tree was closer. Bender lay on the ground beside it, firing judiciously into the jungle. Unlike most of the gang, Bender appeared to be conserving his bullets, firing only when he saw a target.

  I didn’t fancy my chances running towards the gang members defending the huts. I didn’t fancy my chances running at all.

  Bender looked at me and beckoned.

  With a fast crawl, I covered the twenty-yard gap. I lay on the ground, partially protected, and watched.

  There were three remaining men in the centre and they died seconds later. Of five by the closest huts, two had survived so far. They ran for the cover of the large building. And then, for the first time, an attacker appeared. The man walked brazenly out of the jungle, his Sten gun ratter-tatting its message. The running men fell.

  The defenders in the factory building now had a focus and a volley of shots rang out. The guy with the machine gun sank to his feet, a startled look on his face. He continued to fire until the gun went down, shooting the ground.

  I realized that the man had been a lu
re. As soon as the defenders changed position, a swarm of men came out of the jungle and blasted the building with a sustained and awesome onslaught.

  Two men danced grotesquely as they tried to escape and a hundred bullets tore through their bodies. The attackers closed in. Now that they were in the open, I could see that they were also Chinese.

  “Chinese Reds!” Bender moaned. “They don’t take prisoners.” He raised his gun ready to make a final stand.

  “Don’t shoot!” I snapped at him. “They’re not commies. Watch.”

  Bender lowered his aim.

  More Chinese came out of the jungle. The attackers swept into the main building and the shots became more sporadic and then occasional as the last men were despatched.

  A shout from inside stopped the shooting.

  They came out of the building and formed a semicircle at the edge of the dust bowl. They were looking at us but their weapons were pointed at the ground. I had the sense they were part of a well-trained army, though I was certain they weren’t bandits. They had no uniforms and I could see no sign of the red star that communists usually wore.

  “OK,” I said, “get up slowly and deliberately drop your gun.”

  We stood and raised our hands.

  It was then that I realized that the Chinese gunmen weren’t looking at us, but past us.

  I turned to see a man walk out of the jungle. He pointed his gun at me and grinned with the smile of a reptile.

  “Mr Carter.”

  “Wang,” I said. For a second I thought he was going to shoot, but he lowered his gun arm.

  “Mr Yipp sends his regards,” Wang said without any pretence at friendliness. Yipp sent his regards but Wang was just doing his job. And it was one he’d rather not have done.

  I said, “Thank Mr Yipp for me, please. But you were almost too late.”

  Wang grinned again. “I wasn’t sure how long to leave it. But then decided Mr Yipp would rather you stayed alive.”

  As I suspected, Wang and his men had been here a while and deliberately left it to the last minute.

  Bender said, “You led them here!”

  Wang lifted his gun again but this time pointed it at Bender.

  “Who is this?” The gun was cocked.

  I raised my hand. “He’s my prisoner. He’s needed for questioning.”

  Wang glared. “Is he a member of this gang?”

  Before Bender could speak, I said, “He’s army. He’s an AWOL. Like I said, he’s wanted for questioning.”

  Wang waited a couple of beats, probably trying to assess the situation. Was he willing to challenge me further? Then with a begrudging nod he shouted at his men. They immediately dispersed and started to douse the huts with gasoline. Seconds later flames began to lick the air.

  Wang turned his attention back to me “Your jeep is parked on the track, Mr Carter. About a hundred yards away. If you would like to be accompanied, I would be happy to escort you wherever you are going. Or if you need help walking…” He showed his teeth in a kind of smile again.

  I shook my head. “Pass on my gratitude to your boss,” I said, and picked up my Beretta.

  “Now you owe me, Carter.”

  I stopped and snorted derisively. “Wang, Wang, Wang. What a pleasure it is to deal with you. But I don’t think so. And I don’t think Mr Yipp would appreciate you taking credit.”

  The henchman spat. “In that case, you had better keep one eye open for me, Carter. You don’t impress me one little bit.”

  I smiled, gave him a four-fingered wave, and started to walk to where he said the jeep would be.

  Bender shuffled up beside me. “Thanks,” he muttered, his head hanging like that of a beaten dog. “Thanks for saving me back there.”

  Before we reached the jungle’s edge, a loud explosion rang out. I turned to see flames shooting upward, smoke belching from the factory. A wall collapsed. Dead gang members were being carried and flung into the flames.

  I started walking again. “We’ve both been lucky today.”

  The Land Rover was tucked beside the track, hidden behind a rhododendron bush with scarlet flowers. Hegarty was no longer at the wheel. His body had been dumped in the rear and my first task was to wrap him and lay him down.

  But I didn’t get that far. Bender staggered against the jeep and moaned. He clutched his side where his shirt now looked like the colour of the blossom around us.

  He looked sick and I saw sweat on pallid skin.

  “How bad is it?” I asked.

  Bender pulled back his shirt and showed me a stomach wound.

  He said, “I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

  “Let’s get you to hospital.”

  “I’ve seen stomach wounds before. If blood loss doesn’t do it, septicaemia will.”

  I manoeuvred Hegarty’s body so that I could get access to the first aid kit and swabbed Bender’s wound with iodine and gave him a bandage to wrap around his body.

  While he was finishing off, I removed the canvas roof to get better access and disconnected the rear seat. Now I had room to lay Hegarty down. I tore a section off the roof and covered him with it. All the time, explosions and pops filled the air.

  I held his shoulder for a second and in my head asked for his forgiveness. I suspected following the aid truck would be a big risk but I shouldn’t have gambled with his life.

  With my help, Bender climbed into the passenger seat. He closed his eyes.

  “Don’t go to sleep… for two reasons,” I said. I turned the key in the ignition and gripped the blood-smeared steering wheel. “Firstly, if you go to sleep you might not wake up. Secondly, I need you to help me get out of here.”

  Bender opened his eyes, took a ragged breath and nodded. As we came to the first fork in the track, he pointed the way.

  After a mile, to keep him alert, I said, “You were planning to let me go, weren’t you? That argument with the gang leader…”

  “I just thought we were scaring you. I really thought your friend’s death was an accident. But I guess not. Min wanted to know what you knew before killing you. He’s always been afraid that a rival would find him.” He coughed repeatedly but then calmed himself. “Ironic that one did.”

  I drove again and the noises from the burning camp diminished until I could no longer hear anything but the sound of birds and screeching monkeys.

  “Were you telling the truth back there?” I asked. “You don’t know whose body it was on the causeway?”

  “No.”

  “And you don’t know about the message I got.”

  “No.”

  I believed him but it created a problem for me. The body had led me here and yet Bender claimed there was no connection.

  Finally we came out onto a proper road and I had to nudge Bender awake.

  “Where are we?”

  He blinked and took a faltering breath. “South-east of Kuala Lumpur,” Bender said. “At least we should be. Only about twenty miles to KL.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Bender shut his eyes for longer and longer periods. I suspected he wouldn’t make it to Kuala Lumpur.

  Just to keep him awake I said, “Tell me about the drugs.”

  He opened his eyes and tried to focus.

  I said, “Amphetamines and morphine. You were dealing in those.”

  “I’ve told you about the drugs… nothing more to say.”

  “Tell me about the warning. The message in my room.”

  He shook his head. “Not me.”

  “Tell me about Jeevan. Where does he fit in?”

  “I don’t know… I don’t know any Jeevan.”

  The aid pilot’s involvement still bothered me but I moved on.

  “Who are your contacts?”

  He stared ahead, his eyelids flickering open and shut.

  “The names. Who do you deal with?”

  He coughed then said, “One condition.”

  “What?”

  “A letter for my mum. Promise… promise you’ll po
st it.” He coughed again with the effort of speaking, and this time blood speckled his chin.

  “Stop the jeep,” he said quietly.

  I pulled into the long grass verge and switched off the engine.

  “Promise me,” Bender said.

  “I promise.”

  He looked at me for a long time, his eyes changing focus. Then he put a hand inside his vest and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to me. It was addressed to a woman in Mile End, London.

  Bender then told me five names, including Goodwyn in Malacca. I didn’t know any of the others and there was still no mention of the pilot.

  “What about Jeevan?” I asked again.

  Bender leaned back, his eyes struggling to stay open. He looked as though the energy was draining out of him quickly. Eventually he shook his head.

  “The body on the causeway. Who was it really? One of those men?”

  Bender didn’t answer. He closed his eyes.

  “You promise?” he said.

  I started towards the city again, and for a long time Bender said nothing. His breathing became more and more shallow. He let his head flop sideways and took a shuddering breath.

  He said something inaudible.

  “What?” I stopped the engine. “Bender, what did you say?”

  His blood-encrusted mouth moved and he said something that sounded like: “other plane and promise.”

  “I’ll make sure your mum gets the letter. I promise.”

  Bender’s head dropped.

  “What about the other plane?” I asked, but he was gone.

  Niroj Jeevan awoke in a good mood. He thought the government man called Carter knew what was going on. He thought he was in trouble again, but nothing had happened. Turner had gone to Penang in his place and Turner had been cool. There really was nothing to worry about.

  He’d been told about the message in the hotel, how Carter had been warned off. Maybe it had worked. Maybe Carter was happy with the samsoo angle.

  It was a good misdirection after all.

  All Jeevan needed to do was keep mum. Don’t say a word. Like he hadn’t admitted to anything last time. Nor did he point the finger at the real culprits. Sure he got busted out of Fleet Air Arm, but he was still a pilot and was still flying.