Singapore Sling Shot (40 page)

There he was in the ugly, naked flesh. The man who had killed Simone and all the others. He lay on the floor gasping for breath, terrified, his eyes bulging out of his head. He was skinny, almost a stick insect, and he was as pale as a corpse. His penis had wilted. That was understandable—50,000 volts will do that to you every time. Lu opened his mouth, whether to beg or shout I had no idea. Sami leaned down and pushed his stun gun into Lu's groin. Thomas Lu would have screamed his agony if he had been able.

“You're sinking to my level,” I told him.

“Sometimes one just can't help oneself, Daniel.”

I looked into the spa. Kaylin had come to the surface. She lay there, face up, her eyes wide, her mouth working on words and breath. The plea was coming and I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want her to have another breath.

“Excuse me for a moment,” I said to Sami as I put my gloved hand over the woman's face and pushed her head under the water. Her hands grabbed at my wrists and her legs kicked wildly, but I held on, and on, and on, and finally there was a big burst of bubbles and her struggles ceased. The hands fell from my wrists, but I continued to hold Kaylin under the water until I was sure she was dead.

Meanwhile, Sami had called K. There was still no sign of life inside the penthouse. No doubt there were people in the foyer on the other side of the building and we knew about all the other troops. However, Lu's desire for total privacy in his impenetrable luxury nest was leading to his downfall.

Satisfied that Kaylin was no longer in the land of the living, I helped Sami and K get Thomas Lu into one of the plastic pool chairs that were arrayed around the inside of the spa house. We all knew the rest of the plan. It's easier to carry an unconscious or incapacitated person in a chair than by trying to manoeuvre them manually, especially a slippery, gangly, naked body such as the one we were dealing with.

In deference to Sami's still-mending wrist, K and I each took a side of the chair while Sami went ahead of us to check that none of Lu's heavies had miraculously appeared. They hadn't. We were almost at the edge of the terrace when Lu started to stir. Sami easily remedied that. K and I put down the chair and he pressed his stun gun against the back of Lu's neck. Any pleas or resistance he might have offered were gone in a violent spasm that unfortunately threw him out of the chair.

K and I retrieved the stricken man. However, because we were only a metre or two from our destination, we left the chair where it was and half-walked and half-carried Lu to the railing. We leaned him there, giving him a moment or two to see his fate.

In the street below, across from the complex's entrance, a white car was parked. It was a Mercedes. Despite the acute angle, I could see a faint red spark in the open rear window. Marco Mendez was sitting enjoying one of his Quai D'Orsay panatellas while he waited for the very final curtain to come down on Thomas Lu.

Lu was making gurgling noises in the back of his throat. His last pleas, which even if we had heard and understood them, were falling on the deafest of ears. He started urinating. Hell, I would have been doing that as well, standing there contemplating the long drop ahead of me.

“You killed Stanley and too many innocent people, Thomas. Time to go to hell. Goodbye!” Sami delivered his eulogy.

K and I picked Lu up, one of us on each elbow. He moaned in agony as I grabbed his strapped arm. K nodded to me. We drew Lu back from the edge. Then K and I stooped simultaneously. We each grabbed one of Thomas Lu's skinny ankles, stepped forward and heaved upwards and outwards, releasing our grips at the apex of the arc. Thomas Lu cleared the balcony by a metre as he soared out into space.

“I guess you could say that's a perfect Singapore Sling Shot,” I said to no one in particular.

“Bad pun, Daniel,” Sami replied.

We watched as Lu hit the forecourt below, inches from the parked Rolls Royce. The chauffeur had just finished wiping it down and got back into the car. The owner of the limousine was lucky. I doubted his insurance company would have met any damage caused by this act of God. Of course, there would be a few bloodstains to be removed from the side of the car.

Thomas Lu's blood was pooling against the white marble paving stones on the forecourt. Across the road, a car horn sounded once and the white Mercedes pulled away. Ruby sparks exploded momentarily on the road beside it. The colours of the sparks matched the flare of the car's tail lights as it disappeared down the road. One day soon, I was going to look at getting some Quai D'Orsay panatellas. I'd enjoyed the one I had smoked with Marco.

“Goodbye, Marco,” Sami said. “Let's go!” We started back towards the side patio. I detoured slightly, just to check.

Kaylin was floating face down in the spa. Satisfied, I joined the others and we were whisked away into the night sky. Job done!

We were high above the penthouse and just starting our arc back towards the construction site when K pointed down at the front of the apartment building. The uniformed chauffeur and several other people were clustered around Lu's body. Lights were coming on in the lower levels of the building. However, what had attracted K's attention were the two furniture removal vans that had appeared from the condominium block's underground garage. The two vans drove out of the complex nose to tail and vanished away down Nassim Hill Road.

“Jesus,” I muttered. “He wasn't joking.”

“No,” Sami replied. “I don't think humour is one of Marco's strong points.”

“You know, you could honestly say that by killing Thomas Lu, we have saved Singapore from an absolute disaster.”

“Yes, Daniel. You could say that, but I don't think we'll say it out loud,” my friend replied with a faint chuckle. “Now we have to bury our people and get on with our lives.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, but I was wondering about life beyond this moment, beyond Simone's funeral. What lay ahead for Daniel Swann?

Maybe I would try to get a real job, one that didn't involve death and destruction. Problem was my CV was both very specific and very much out of date.

Epilogue

We buried Simone and the others. Sami used considerable influence and money to purchase a huge number of adjoining plots in the cemetery. One of the ironies of this, of course, was that after fifteen years the bodies would be dug up and the bones reburied in smaller plots or cremated. I wondered if I would be there to collect Simone's bones.

As I was leaving Singapore, Thomas Lu's suicide had been replaced as the headline of the day by the discovery in Sembawang of two trucks loaded with nitro-based fertiliser. This was the same stuff that was the explosive of choice for terrorists around the world. The detonating mechanisms were in place, but not connected.

It was suspected that religious or political extremists had perhaps spirited it in from Malaysia and were waiting for the moment to position it and take out whatever targets they had selected. Relations between the two countries deteriorated considerably once that viewpoint was made public.

As I was making my way to the KrisFlyer lounge in Terminal Three, prior to boarding my flight, I had a moment of near panic. Two police officers were standing on the concourse. One was male, the other female. They were both armed with the standard issue sidearm. I'd never had a close look, at them but they appeared to be S&W model 64s in .38 special or something similar. They were more effective than a brick—just!

However, standing further along the concourse was another group of three policemen. These were wearing combat overalls and were all armed with submachine guns. Okay, armed anti-terrorist types were a common enough sight in airports worldwide. Were they looking for me? Or someone like me? They seemed to be paying particular attention to European males.

With my shaven head encased in a cap and without my moustache, I didn't look like David Crewe. I was using another passport and another alias just in case Crewe had appeared on the police radar.

To have turned and walked away would have been too obvious. The policewoman was looking directly at me. It was now that I realised I knew her. This was Miss Blue, Lucy Pang Hooi Ming. She turned and said something to her companion and then came towards me. What had she said?

Behind the advancing policewoman, her male companion was speaking on his radio. Was the alarm going out? Miss Blue came to a halt in front of me. She put out a hand.

“Shake,” she breathed. I took her hand and we shook hands. She was smiling. “They are looking for David Crewe.”

“I'm not him,” I replied under my breath, faking a laugh. “I have another identity.”

“Good. You don't look like the image we have.” It was then I saw the computer-generated snapshot she was holding. It was a variation on the one Sami had prepared, but this time it was closer to the way I used to look. “I don't think Mr Crewe should come back to Singapore, ever!”

“He won't. Thank you!”

“We are even.”

“Yes we are.”

With that, she waved to me and went to rejoin her companion. He lowered his radio handpiece and spoke urgently to her. Suddenly they were on the move away down the concourse. I breathed out and carried on towards the lounge. The heavily armed trio didn't even look my way.

“Thank you, Officer,” I whispered as I moved on to the lounge. So they had a profile, but as yet, not a name. If and when I came back, I would have to be someone completely different in every way.

So now, in the guise of Donald Wrathe, sales manager for Kervon Security Systems Inc, I am sitting in an air-conditioned metal tube thirty-five thousand feet above the South China Sea, sipping at a Jack Daniels. I am flying home to Hong Kong. In a few weeks, I will go to the white palace at Phetchaburi and meet with Sakura.

Sami still wants me to join him. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. My world at this moment in time is full of maybes. By the way, I received an invitation to Sylvia's wedding. I am considering going to it. Why not?

I don't think, however, I'll be asked to be best man or give the bride away—I did that years ago and it still hurts.

About the Author

New Zealand-based author Andrew Grant is a frequent visitor to Singapore, where he has appeared on television and radio. A keen cook, pistol shooter and dedicated fisherman and hunter, he has trained in boxing and the martial arts. Grant has had a wide variety of occupations over the years, including being a professional hunter, bodyguard and merchant seaman. In 1993, following a long career in radio, where he won many prestigious awards for his radio commercials, he turned to writing full time. The author of twelve books, this is Grant's second Daniel Swann thriller set in Asia, the first being
Death in the Kingdom.

Death in the Kingdom

Another Daniel Swann thriller!

British agent Daniel Swann fled Thailand after murdering the son of the Kingdom's top underworld boss. Now he is back, ordered by his government to recover a small black box from the bottom of the Andaman Sea. Business as usual, he doesn't ask questions. But as his friends are beheaded one by one and he is pursued by CIA agents, Swann realises his mission has become personal. Someone wants him dead.

Trying to stay alive on the streets of Bangkok, Swann engages in a deadly game of cat and mouse. When he finally discovers the contents of the black box, he is caught up in a government-level conspiracy. But with his enemy always one step ahead, Swann knows he is being betrayed. So he turns to the only people he can trust—the underworld.

Published in print by Monsoon Books in 2009

This electronic edition published in 2011 by Monsoon Books

ISBN (epub): 978-981-4358-23-1

ISBN (paperback): 978-981-05-9225-7

Copyright©Andrew Grant, 2009

Cover design by OpalWorks

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