THURSDAY'S ORCHID

by Mitchell, Robert

  We entered the bank in a tight bunch. The bodyguard had released my jacket and the pistols weren’t so obvious. With armed guards standing around, the pistols had been hidden a little more carefully; back in shoulder holsters I hoped. The peacock and the bodyguard were right behind me, the driver in front. I trod on his heels once or twice to give myself more breathing space, remembering the knife.

  “Keep moving, Mr. Rider,” the peacock hissed in my ear.

  I looked around for Tek, or for some of his people, but there wasn’t a friendly face to be seen, only normal everyday customers crowding around the counters, and the ever-watchful guards, holstered pistols on their hips. The peacock whispered once more.

  “There is no-one here to help you, Mr. Rider. Go and get the envelope, and be quick!”

  At that instant I forged ahead, stepping around the driver, catching him unawares. The other two jumped forward to catch up to me, but I stopped just as suddenly as I had moved off. The peacock crashed into me and the bodyguard sped past, trying to slide to a halt on the polished floor, his hand reaching for the pistol.

  I turned and screamed at the top of my voice: “Hold-up! It’s a hold-up! Look out!”

  It seemed like the whole bank spun to the sound of my voice; but I was off, running and darting through the melee that ensued. I caught sight of the bodyguard with his gun in the air trying to follow my weaving back, but the scattering crowd restrained his quivering finger. It didn’t seem to bother the bank guards. He was dropped before I was even out of sight. There were several more shots, but I didn’t see where they went or who got hit. I saw the peacock move sideways into the milling crowd. I kept on yelling and pointing as I ran.

  “It’s a hold up! Men with guns! Back there!”

  Nobody stopped me. They were all too busy making themselves scarce, with the sound of shots booming and echoing throughout the high-vaulted chamber.

  I burst through the doors and raced down the street. I didn’t know what had happened to the peacock and I wasn’t waiting around to find out.

  I headed back towards the Hilton, in my panic making for the only refuge I knew; but the further I got from the bank, the more my brain came out of the fog. If any of them managed to get out of that fire-fight the Hilton would be the first place they would think of. All it needed was one phone call and they could cut me off.

  Slowing down to a fast walk, I started to think. A telephone was what I needed more than anything, and one where there were plenty of people around, people that I could hide amongst – tourists. The Mandarin Singapore: half way down Orchard Road. If I couldn’t lose myself in the Mandarin, then I wasn’t safe anywhere. They couldn’t search every hotel in the city. My nerves were shot, my legs like jelly.

  I took my pick of the five cocktail lounges, chose one with subdued lighting, and ordered a double whisky on the rocks. The jolt of the whisky did wonders for my nerves; almost stunning them out of existence.

  The air-conditioning blasted down from the ceiling, but I was still sweating like the proverbial pig. My hands trembled, the whisky in the glass slopping from side to side, and I put the tumbler back on the table before it crashed to the floor.

  Next time Nick wanted someone to ride shotgun he could look elsewhere. This was my first and last time. It had struck a depth of terror into my soul I hadn’t known existed.

  My second scotch went down slower than the first, but not that much slower. At least I got to taste this one, but it still took two hands to hold it to my lips. The trembling hadn’t slowed; although the twitching had eased.

  I was still there twenty minutes later; the backs of my trouser-legs saturated in perspiration, but my breathing regular and my heartbeat no faster than it had been that first night on the reef. I was alive, and I was safe – for the moment. I wanted to run; but where to I didn’t know or care; out to the airport maybe, back to civilisation. I was almost prepared to give up the money. It wasn’t worth it. There were more important things in this world: my life, for instance.

  Commonsense prevailed. All I had was my passport and a few dollars; not even a credit card; and if I saw this thing through to the end I could retire; set for life; and tell the lot of them to go to hell. Just a few more days and it would all be over.

  I thought of ringing Nick, but he was too far away. Tek was the only one. At least he thought and then acted, and usually with speed; but there was danger in that direction. They had got on to me once through him, so why not again; and the next time there would be no kid gloves. The next time it would be for keeps.

  There were a number of phones in the foyer; all of them available, and no suspicious characters hanging about. If I had spotted somebody standing around doing nothing but just waiting I am certain I would have bolted. My brain was spinning with thoughts of directional microphones, telephone bugs and spies. Fantasy was taking over again, and for one dreadful moment I couldn’t even remember Tek’s number. I stood by the telephone, holding the receiver; numb and petrified; grinding my fist; and then it came to me.

  I dialed. And as had happened the previous day, Sang answered: “Mr. Cheh’s residence.”

  “Mr. Cheh, please.” I forced myself to keep my voice free from the tremor jerking my chin, pitching the tone deliberately low. Whoever was bugging the conversation must not be allowed to know I was panicking.

  “Who is calling, please?” Polite and yet nosy. Would he ever learn?

  “Just get Mr. Cheh and hurry up!” I snapped.

  My control was slipping. There was no way I was going to identify myself.

  “Ah, Mr. Rider,” he replied. “Mr. Cheh is busy at the moment, but I can get him to call you back. Where are you calling from, please?”

  “When will he be free?” I snapped. “I’ll call back.”

  “He should be here soon. Only a few minutes. Please tell me where you are.”

  “I’m at my hotel, the Hilton. I’ll wait for another fifteen minutes and then leave. If he doesn’t phone by then, ask him to stand by and wait for my call.”

  I waited at the bar for ten minutes, checking my watch every thirty seconds. Each passer-by looked like some gangster; their satchels held bombs; and every jacket concealed a pistol.

  The fifth scotch tasted the same as the fourth. Any more and I would be too drunk to think straight. It had been a long time since breakfast. I looked at my watch again – almost three o’clock. It had been five hours since they had picked me up in the Mercedes.

  The fifteen minutes were up. If I didn’t get him this time I would go to pieces. I dialled. The phone rang once and no more.

  “Hello?” The voice was Tek’s

  “Tek, it’s me, Jeff. God, am I glad to hear your voice!”

  He cut in on me. “Where are you? Sang said you were at the Hilton. I have been calling for the last ten minutes, but the desk has not been able to raise you. I had them check the room, but there was nobody there. All they could tell me was that you had made a short call to Australia an hour or so ago. There was also an inward call, also very short.”

  I could feel the tenseness in his voice. He had as much riding on this as we did.

  “I’m not at the Hilton!” I answered. “I haven’t been there since I made the call to Nick. The incoming call was from him.”

  “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I have been searching everywhere for you. When you did not arrive outside the bank to meet my nephew, we thought you might have been picked up by the police. What has happened?”

  It was obvious that Nick hadn’t called Tek. He probably thought I was having trouble getting the money out of him.

  “I’ll tell you about it later, Tek. But it’s not the police. Somebody’s trying to muscle in, and I’m sure your phone’s bugged.” I paused. “I was picked up by a young Chinese guy driving a light-blue Mercedes claiming to be your nephew.” He didn’t interrupt. They could have been using a directional microphone, and picking up only his end of the conversation; and if he said nothing, they would hear not
hing. “Tek, I would suggest that you go to another telephone, somewhere else. Don’t take anyone with you that you can’t absolutely trust, give me the number and I’ll call you there. Don’t tell me where you’re going, just the number.”

  He gave me a number and told me to call in exactly fifteen minutes. It was still cloak and dagger, but there was no other way. If those bastards got hold of me again – I was dead!

  I went back to the booth and ordered a cup of coffee. My nerves had settled. Somehow he had given me confidence. I knew he wouldn’t panic, and I knew he would be at the number in exactly fifteen minutes. The coffee was hot and sweet: sugar for energy, but not enough – I needed a bucketful.

  The minute hand crawled slowly around the dial as I scanned the area. The clientele in the lounge appeared less sinister. Maybe they got a better crowd in the afternoons. The lunchtime set had seemed positively evil.

  I called the number. It gave half a ring and he was there.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said without introduction. “Do not worry about this telephone. Nobody would think to tap it. I never use this factory for business. I came with Sung, my nephew, and we were not followed. The workers have all been sent outside with orders to keep everyone away. So please, take your time, and tell me everything that has happened.”

  I gave him most of the details. He interrupted several times, asking me to repeat some of the points in more detail.

  “I think you are wrong about the house,” he said. “There is no way it could have been wired. I have the place swept by two separate organisations at least twice a week, at random times. Nobody knows when they are to arrive, not even me. They have both been known to arrive on the same day and scan each other.”

  There was a pause on the other end, and then he continued.

  “No. We have a spy. Somebody overheard part of our conversation and guessed the rest. A listening device in the lounge would have given them everything.” There was another silence for a few seconds. “The only time we spoke in any detail was during that one afternoon, and for a very short time the following morning. Did you tell Mee Ling anything?”

  “Not a thing. And that reminds me.” I told him about the Malay’s reference to my little orchid looking more beautiful. He remembered the box he had given me as I had left for the airport. Mee Ling had selected the delicate bloom from his garden and Tek had given her the box.

  “No, Tek,” I interrupted. “I would stake my life on it. It couldn’t be her.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I agree.” But it must be someone in the house. Someone who was there when you were present, and when you telephoned last night. That excludes Mee Ling. She was only here for that one night. You will recall that I drove them both back into the city early the following morning, before our second discussion. Neither of them has been here since. Someone must have seen her pick the orchid, and correctly assumed that it was in the parcel she left for you. We will have to set a small trap.”

  Not with me as the bait he wasn’t.

  “Can’t we possibly do it some other way?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “Do not concern yourself,” he replied quietly. “Nothing will go wrong.” God! What else could go wrong? “I will return to the house and put a call through to Nick. I will tell him that you have lost your nerve, that your imagination has run away with you.” He wasn’t far off the mark. “I will let him know that I have arranged to meet you at the Botanical Gardens. Do you know where they are?”

  I told him that I did. It was where we had collected the bodyguard earlier in the day.

  “Good. I will say that I have organised a meeting with you there at say, six o’clock this evening; alone. I will tell him that I intend to calm you down and bring you back to the house before you do something stupid, like going to the police.”

  Right at the moment it seemed like the best thing to do.

  “I still don’t like it,” I replied. “Too many things could go wrong.”

  “No. It will work. From four o’clock onwards I will have a number of my most trusted people patrolling the gardens, men from another section of my organisation. Nobody at the house will know about them. You will not see them, but they will be watching you. Whoever is behind this may even believe it will be a good opportunity to get hold of me as well. I will stress upon Nick that I will be going with only one bodyguard. Do not worry.”

  I wasn’t worried. I was scared stiff!

  He sounded confident; but could I trust him; and if I couldn’t trust Tek, then who the hell could I trust?

  Nineteen

  The rest of the day went far too quickly. I was dreading six o’clock, hoping it wouldn’t roll around, hoping that something else would happen; but the clock raced ahead.

  I moved into one of the other cocktail lounges and tried to get some food into my stomach, but my throat had gone dry, and half a cheese sandwich was all I could manage. At least I didn’t get back into the whisky, which took more will-power than I thought I had; although I guess it wasn’t really will-power, just the knowledge that my wits might yet be needed to save my life. They had already done so once that day, and a second time wasn’t out of the question. Tek might be good, but he wasn’t infallible.

  There was no way I intended to be early this time. I would probably never be early for another appointment for as long as I lived.

  It was exactly six o’clock as I left the Mandarin, pepped up on caffeine. I would be the last to arrive on the scene.

  Tek had directed me to come in to the gardens from the main entrance and to make straight for the lake without stopping. He would enter from a gate on the opposite side and we would meet at the water’s edge at six. He was going to be twiddling his thumbs for ten or fifteen minutes.

  I paid off the cab and made for the entrance. There were still a few camera-bedecked tourists strolling about, taking advantage of the coolness of the late afternoon air. I could see the lake in the distance, the smooth water shadowed dark beneath the trees; and, as I walked towards it, I could see the headlines in tomorrow’s newspapers: Body Of Australian Tourist Found In Lake.

  There was no sign of Tek as I drew near to the lake; but I kept moving, looking from right to left and then over my shoulder for the fifth time. Where the hell was he?

  Where were his men? Apart from several tourists – if they were – the rest looked harmless: an old man feeding the ducks; two couples sitting on park benches: one couple watching the old man, the other couple, in their early twenties, interested only in each other, self-consciously holding hands; and a woman coming up behind me, pushing a pram.

  I thought the worst. Maybe Tek never got back to his house, and never made the call to Nick. Perhaps the opposition had grabbed him as he left his factory and were lurking amongst the trees up ahead, waiting for a head shot with a silenced pistol. I would never even hear the crack as the bullet left the barrel. It is said that you don’t feel a thing as the bullet explodes your brain; so why worry about not hearing it?

  Two men approached, Chinese, dressed in smartly pressed suits, striding down the path towards me. They had to be Tek’s men. The peacock’s hoodlums would be waiting under cover, they wouldn’t be moving around in the open. I was late, and it was just conceivable that Tek had already sprung his trap. I breathed easier as they drew level.

  “Mr. Rider?”

  The question was put by the older of the two. The young one glanced about, his eyes flicking everywhere. Neither of them smiled as they waited for my answer: cold, businesslike, hands inside jacket pockets. I nodded, my mouth dry.

  “Would you please come with us. Mr. Cheh is waiting by the pavilion. Please hurry; you are late.”

  They each took hold of an elbow, urging me along. We turned around; facing back the way I had come, towards the woman with the pram.

  It happened so quickly it was almost a blur. A corner of the pram was rammed into the groin of the man on my left, and the woman leapt at the other, both feet kicking out, striking at his head.
I turned to see the two couples racing forward, arms flaying the air as they launched themselves at the two men. I was thrown to the ground, tackled from behind, the old man on top of me, his body pushing mine flat to the ground.

  “Please do not move, Mr. Rider. I am from Mr. Cheh.”

  Stupidly, I thought of the ducks he had been feeding only seconds before.

  I heard a shot, but no scream, and then he allowed me to sit up. The two dark-suited men were being hustled away, pistols jammed into their necks. The two girls were on either side of me, facing outwards, their hands in open handbags, probably gripping firearms. The old man moved around to protect my front, the bulge of a holster now showing under his jacket.

  “You can get up now.”

  I turned to find Tek looking down at me, smiling. “You see. I told you that nothing could go wrong!”

  I almost cried. There was nothing I could say. The old man gave me his hand, helping me up.

  “Come,” Tek said. “Let us go somewhere a little more peaceful, where we can talk to these two gentlemen. I am certain they will have some interesting things to tell us.”

  I had fallen for the same trick, twice. I should have known that Tek was too smart to have his men standing out so conspicuously. The courting couples, the woman with the pram, and the old man; they had seemed just another part of the landscape; so innocent.

  We left the gardens in the Mercedes, but this time I knew I was now travelling in the correct one. Another Mercedes took up position ahead of us and one moved in behind. They were all powder-blue, with tinted glass windows making it practically impossible to see the passengers. The three vehicles constantly overtook one another as we drove along, changing sequence.

  Our convoy headed for the coast, towards Pandan Reservoir, finally coming to a halt about a kilometre past that stretch of dark water. The two goons were lifted out of the boot of Tek’s car, dishevelled and confused. The handcuffs were checked and they were frog-marched down towards the river. We followed. Nobody said a word. The only sounds were the crunch of shoes on the stony path and far-off noises from the rainforest.