She inclined her head and gave a coquettish smile.
“That would be nice. Perhaps next week?”
If it weren’t for my injured calf, I would have had a spring in my step as I walked back to my apartment. I knew who she was and what she represented. And she knew me. What could be the harm? I asked myself. She was a stunning beauty and, after all, it was just the cinema. And maybe dinner afterwards.
There was a letter from the secretary waiting for me when I opened the door to my rooms. It said: Get over to Gillman. Major Vernon has a theory.
I hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take me to the barracks. I asked him to follow the scenic route, although he didn’t understand. So I directed him over the Anderson Bridge, past the docks and Keppel Harbour, and up the coast road to Pasir Panjang.
Gillman Barracks was home to 200 Provost Company, with buildings scattered around a small hill.
At the security gate, I paid for my ride and introduced myself to the guard. He knew I’d been many times but still pointed to the office, a white single-storey building with square pillars that wouldn’t have been designed by any self-respecting architect.
As I walked up the drive, a naval car came the other way and I recognized the passenger: Commander Alldritt. He was in charge of Keppel Harbour and didn’t like me. He was Vernon’s friend, and I briefly wondered what he was doing here on a military police base.
I continued into the building and knocked on the acting CO’s office door. I waited. I could hear Vernon shouting, and when he called “Come!” I saw he was on the telephone.
As he berated someone, I sat at the other side of his expansive desk with its worn leather inlay. There was a long credenza behind him and an array of filing cabinets. I knew he kept his records there; every report, every message was written down and filed away. I knew because I’d been through them in the past.
Major Tony Vernon had small, cold eyes and a signature hairstyle. He was balding and shaved it at the front, leaving a straight line over the crown. I found it hard not to stare, though it was better than looking into his piggy-eyes. He gripped the telephone so tightly in his left hand that his fingers were white. I noticed he had plasters on two of them.
Vernon swore at the person on the other end and slammed down the receiver. Clenching his teeth, he now fixed his eyes on me.
“Mr Carter.”
He pointedly didn’t use my old rank but I didn’t mind. I’d long given up caring, just as I didn’t want to wear a uniform or brassard. I especially didn’t want to have to salute Vernon. And he didn’t bother to ask me to.
He said nothing for a count of ten and I knew it was part of his power game. In fact, I suspected there had been no one on the other end of the phone. He did that to intimidate.
I smiled. “I hear you have a theory.”
“What do you think about the body?”
“He was dead.”
Vernon glared at me. “What about the number? Two, two, one, wasn’t it?”
I said, “I’m not the one with the theory.”
“He could be a soldier.”
“Is there anyone missing?”
“Everyone from Singapore is accounted for. There are three men unaccounted for in Malaya. Two British, one Gurkha.”
“The body was white.” Which meant we could rule out the Gurkha.
“I’d like you to investigate.”
That surprised me. The major and I didn’t have a good relationship. It was probably best described as a mutual lack of respect. I said, “Why me?”
“Because I think something is going on and my theory is that it’s bigger than the British Army—if it is a soldier.”
“Explain.”
“Drugs,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Someone supplying drugs.”
“Is this more than a hypothetical?”
Instead of answering, he said, “I understand that the drugs you missed”—he emphasized that, like it was my fault—“at Singorah airfield were in army crates and destined for Malaya. You were a detective. Join the dots.”
“You’ll have to join them for me.”
He showed his teeth in a beatific smile. “Drugs going out disguised as army supplies. Suspect drug activity at the camp in Johor Bahru. A gang-style murder.”
“Gang-style?”
“What else could it be?” He sat back. “I’ve seen this sort of thing before, and I spoke to Secretary Coates. He thinks it might help with your job here in Singapore.”
“Why me?” I asked again.
“Firstly, this could be huge. This could be bigger than an army-related issue and Coates agrees. Secondly, you aren’t an MP, so the men are more likely to open up to you.”
I said, “There’s another reason.”
He stared into the middle distance and then looked back at me. For a moment he let his mantle of aggression relax. “Look, all right, you are a damn fine investigator and you are more likely to get results.”
I said nothing.
“I’d like you to start by talking to Colonel Underwood at Majidi Barracks.”
“When?”
“No time like the present. Sergeant Hegarty will be your driver. He should already be waiting outside.”
A thousand thoughts were going through my head but I just nodded.
He actually stood and offered his hand.
“Thanks,” he said. “And I assumed you won’t want to billet at Majidi so I took the liberty of booking a room for you at the King George Hotel.”
SIX
I was about to get in beside Hegarty when Lieutenant “Polecat” Cole ran over and swung into the back of the Land Rover.
“Thought I’d be of use,” he said as I joined him. “Major Vernon…” He stopped himself and shook his head slightly.
I figured I knew what he was thinking. “We’re all friends here, Jim.” I said it quietly so Hegarty wouldn’t overhear. “If you want to say something about Vernon, I’d appreciate it.”
Cole seemed to think about it for a long while but he may have been waiting for the road noise to increase.
“I just think you’ll do better with official support.”
“As an MP.”
“Right. It’s almost as though Vernon wants you to… you know, fail.”
That made sense to me. My legal status outside of Singapore was nil. I could probably use my contacts to gain influence, but with Cole’s presence that wouldn’t be necessary.
Hedge drove me back to my apartment so that I could grab an overnight bag. I thought about wearing my Browning revolver but decided the gun in my ankle holster would suffice. The Browning was official whereas I’d been given the Beretta by a gentleman called Pope. He seemed to think he owed me a favour and I liked that my boss didn’t know about it. So I stuck the Browning in my bag.
Back on the road, and beyond the city limits, to break the silence, I said, “The marks on the body’s back. Why didn’t you tell me about them straight away? Why did it rely on me spotting them?”
Cole pulled at his lip and looked at the trees.
He said, “How did you know?”
“The men had already moved the body. You’d already seen it. And you showed no surprise when we flipped him over.”
“Vernon said it was best to wait for the pathologist’s report. Thinking about it now, maybe that was also Vernon being difficult. Giving you half the picture. But then you saw the marks—I shouldn’t have blurted what I thought they were.” He smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, Captain.”
“For goodness sake, call me Ash.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Have you been to Malaya before?”
“No.”
“I can’t say you’re in for a treat.” He went on to tell me about the history of the conflict, most of which I already knew. But I let him talk and he seemed to relax.
After a while of nothing but green jungle rumbling past, we arrived back at Woodlands Crossing.
The queue was only four vehicles long and the guards straight
ened up as we approached the checkpoint. Hegarty slowed but didn’t need to stop as the barrier was quickly raised.
We passed the spot where the headless body had lain and were soon driving under the barrier on the mainland side. Here the queue was longer and there were more pedestrians and cyclists. There was also a much larger Customs office, and everyone appeared to be thoroughly checked before passing through.
I spotted an MP I recognized from Gillman. “Any luck with the register of vehicles last night?” I asked Cole.
“Ah, you saw one of my men. I’ve got four on the case, checking the register and questioning people. Many of the lorries do this crossing regularly. With a bit of luck, by closing time we might get a witness.”
The road through Johor Bahru was known as Route One. It went all the way through the country into Thailand. Although the town was two miles away, the whole roadside was like a ribbon of shacks and bashas, which were basic lean-to shelters.
The town itself was about a third the size of Singapore city. And like the island city, the streets were crammed with people, rickshaws and animals. The sultan’s palace stood on a hill, majestically overlooking the town.
At the centre of Johor Bahru, the streets opened up to a square with grand white buildings similar to Singapore’s government sector. And then we were travelling north again on a narrower street with shabby houses. Hedge sounded his horn to manoeuvre until the traffic and houses thinned to nothing. Briefly.
“Majidi Kampong,” Hegarty shouted over his shoulder as we came to a village. In the near distance, left and right, we could see rolling hills. Beyond them, the jungle created a wall of green.
The sergeant turned off the main road and I had my first sight of Majidi Barracks. A head-height white wall stretched around an area that looked the size of four football pitches. Although low, it was huge in comparison to the village close by.
The entrance appeared more oriental than British military, with what I thought was a Chinese-style roof over the portico.
Hegarty explained to the guard that we were here to see the CO and seconds later we were inside and driving past white breeze-block buildings. They had wooden stakes supporting corrugated tin roofs. The pitch was clearly designed to handle torrential rain, although the noise must have been tremendous.
The buildings were all single-storey except for the officer’s block. We parked outside.
Colonel Underwood turned out to be a lieutenant colonel. He had a ruddy complexion and a deep frown.
“Is this what it takes to get 200 Provost out of their holiday camp?”
I held out my hand. “Ash Carter. I work for the Governor of Singapore.”
He looked at me like I was something unmentionable he’d stepped in. “What the bloody hell do I need a politician for?”
“State security,” I said, and as he scrutinized me I added: “I’m particularly interested in whether there are any bandits—”
Before I could finish, he snapped, “CTs! We’re to call the bandits communist terrorists now.” He turned his attention to Cole. “Are you going to investigate the drugs problem or not?”
I tried my disarming smile. “Could we start at the beginning? Would you mind telling me about the drugs problem.”
Underwood looked back at me and I saw the anger in his eyes reduce.
“I requested an investigation months ago. And the MPs finally show up when there’s a body on the crossing. Is it even drugs related?”
“That’s what I want to find out. That and whether it’s connected to CTs. So, tell us about the drugs. Are we talking about cannabis?”
“We’ve found a few stashes and handled it appropriately. We’ve also had to arrest men for possession of heroin, but again it’s all within normal tolerances. Personal use rather than anyone out and out dealing in the stuff. And more importantly, no one using to the point of addiction.”
“Amphetamines?” Cole asked.
I knew the history of amphetamines. Heavily used by the Japanese invasion force. In fact, they were sanctioned and used by many armies during the Second World War—before we understood the damage they could cause.
“Undoubtedly amphetamines,” Underwood said. “The locals call it shabu. I know men take it, but we’ve only had a couple of problem cases. And they were dealt with. No, that’s not my main issue. That’s not why I wanted an investigation. It’s something else. Something that changes men’s behaviour. Fighting and aggression.” Cole looked like he wanted to say something and I guessed he was thinking those weren’t bad attributes for a soldier. But Underwood explained: “It’s among themselves. I’ve seen men under stress many times. They can get ratty as hell, but this is different. This is extreme violence from men who are meek by nature. I’ve got more men in the brig for disorderly conduct than ever in my career. And they’re just the tip of the iceberg.”
“What do the men say?”
“They deny it. In fact, a day in a cell seems to sort them out. They soon become meek and apologetic again. The men have started calling it the Crazies. It’s like it’s the norm. Like it’s all right.” He took a breath. “But it’s not normal and I want it stamped out.”
I looked at Cole.
The lieutenant said, “It’s the first I’ve heard of it. We’ll definitely investigate.”
Underwood shook his head in disgust. “First you’ve heard of it…”
I leaned forward. “I understand your frustration, but we’re here now. Can we loop back to the body—?”
“Not one of my men.”
“I was told you had three potential AWOLs.”
“All back now and under twenty-four hours late. Delayed on the train from Penang, which was attacked by CTs. No, my men are all present and accounted for. In fact, I haven’t had an AWOL for the nineteen months I’ve been here.”
“Does two, two, one mean anything to you?”
Underwood frowned at me. “Two hundred and twenty-one? You mean the numbers two, two, one? Like an army unit…”
I could see his mind processing.
“Could it be that? You asked about missing soldiers. There’s an AWOL from the RAOC. BVD 221.”
SEVEN
Hegarty followed directions and we were soon on Route Three heading north-east. The road curved left and then right, following the path of least resistance. We couldn’t see very far due to the elephant grass that lined the road. It was taller than a man and hid the rise and fall of the land around us.
About ten miles outside Johor Bahru, we saw a military sign. It said: Base Vehicle Depot. Another beside it said: Tebrau Airfield and FTC. We turned and drove up a gentle hill. At the top the road split. BVD 221 to the left, Tebrau and FTC to the right.
We could see them both. The BVD section appeared to be a large fenced enclosure. The “airfield” looked more like a proper airport than the usual temporary field. It had numerous buildings and hangars and a runway as long as the one at Changi.
Outside the gated compound were two young men in jungle fatigues. They were sitting on giant stones outside the entrance. Some kind of informal guard, with their rifles lying across their thighs.
It took them a moment to realize there were MPs in the Land Rover. They leapt to their feet, awkward and unsure how to behave, but Hegarty didn’t stop. He drove straight into the enclosure. Amid the clutter of trucks and cars, I recognized a Scammell tractor used as a rescue vehicle. There was a garage unit and prefabricated blocks. Right at the back was the only solid-looking construction: offices.
A sergeant stepped out of the building as we drove up to it. He stopped midstride and snapped off a salute.
“Help you, gents?”
Cole was first out of the jeep. “Your CO available?”
“No…” The sergeant looked uncertain. “Maybe I can help, sir. I’m the chief clerk.”
By this time the three of us were on the steps in front of the sergeant. Cole led the way towards the door. “All right, let’s go inside.”
We passed two of
fices. One had another clerk working behind a desk; a young guy in a turban who looked up and watched us walk past.
The sergeant took us into the next room and stood nervously behind his desk. We crowded in on the other side. Again, Cole spoke first: “We’re investigating the headless body found on the crossing this morning.”
Now the chief clerk’s eyes showed surprise and then looked calculating. “What’s that got to do with us?”
“You’re missing a man,” I said.
“Who told you that?”
“We’ve just come from Majidi Barracks.”
The clerk said nothing.
“The CO there told us you had a man AWOL.”
“Oh cripes that was yonks ago! Sergeant Gary Bender disappeared, what… ten months ago maybe.”
“Describe him.”
“White, five ten-ish, black hair, skinny. Can’t remember his eye colour I’m afraid, if that’s important.”
“Anything else you can tell us?”
“Arrogant sod and I never liked him. He went off in a ‘three-tonner’ and never returned. Your chaps investigated. No sign of him or the Bedford truck.”
The three tonne Bedford’s were the very common army trucks, used for most transportation including troop movement. I could imagine the difficulty of finding a lost one.
I looked at Cole, who shook his head. “Drugs?” he said. “Any problems here?”
The calculating look returned. “None,” the clerk said after a pause.
I said, “We’re investigating the possibility that the killing is drug related.”
The clerk said nothing.
“The number two, two, one has led us here.”
Still the clerk said nothing.
I said, “Who’s your CO?”
“He’s never around. The man you want would be Major Chris Broom.”
“When will he be back?”
“I don’t know.” He paused uncomfortably. “Might be around tomorrow, if I can get a message to him.”
I nodded to the others. “Then we’ll come back tomorrow.”
We left him there and returned to the Land Rover. The fresh-faced Indian guy came out—the one from the other office. He glanced at us as though about to say something but then walked past. Hegarty turned the key and the engine fired throatily.
Singapore Girl: An edge of your seat thriller that will have you hooked (An Ash Carter Thriller Book 2) Page 3
