Empire of Gold

‘Connected enough to keep him out of trouble?’ Kit asked.

‘Yes,’ said Rosman Jefri, one of the customs agents. ‘Three years ago, Mr West was suspected of involvement in smuggling. His office and home were raided, but nothing was found – and he sued the government. Not only did he win, but the officer in charge was demoted.’

‘But now Interpol is involved, it will be harder for West to get his friends to apply pressure,’ said Ayu. ‘And it gives us another advantage. We have thought about trying to entrap him by asking him to transport an illegal cargo, but he is a clever man and will spot undercover agents.’

Eddie cocked his head, puzzled. ‘Wouldn’t that get chucked right out of court?’

‘Entrapment is legal here,’ Kit explained. ‘So if a stranger asks if you want to buy drugs . . . don’t.’

‘Good job I forgot my crack pipe. So, if we use someone from outside Singapore, you reckon that’ll make West more likely to do something dodgy?’

Rosman nodded. ‘If he agrees to an illegal act, that gives us the pretext we need to arrest him and seize his records.’

‘Before he can destroy them, we hope,’ added Ayu.

‘I think we can make sure of that,’ said Eddie.

‘You keep saying “we”, Eddie,’ objected Kit. ‘I will be going to see West – alone. I appreciate your working with Sergeant Go to move everything along, but you’re a civilian, not a police officer. This is up to me now.’

‘What, with that cover story you came up with? It’s too obvious – he’ll be suspicious right from the off.’ He rubbed the lapel of Kit’s pale blue suit jacket; it was obvious from its fit alone that it was not an expensively tailored garment. ‘No offence, but you’re dressed like a cop.’

Kit looked offended. ‘Then give me your jacket. No policeman I know would wear anything like that!’

‘Ooh, listen to Derek bloody Zoolander ’ere!’ said Eddie, pretending to be outraged. ‘All right, swap.’ He took off his leather jacket and traded it for Kit’s. ‘Still think it’s a bad idea for you to go in on your own, though.’ He turned to Ayu. ‘Does West have any history of violence?’

‘Not Mr West himself,’ she said. ‘But he employs security guards . . . and some of them have violent backgrounds.’

Eddie looked at the cabin. Figures moved behind the slats; West had company. ‘So, Kit, your plan is to go alone into the office of a dodgy bloke with nasty bodyguards and try to entrap him. Yeah, that’s sensible.’

‘We are right outside,’ Rosman pointed out.

‘Not close enough if things turn bad in a hurry – and you can’t see much through those blinds. Ayu, he needs support, and you know it. Let me go as well – if he’s the client, I can be his bodyguard.’

‘Eddie, you are not going with me,’ insisted Kit.

He didn’t listen. ‘Come on, Ayu. It’s your turf, not Interpol’s.’ With meaning, he added: ‘A favour for a favour.’

Ayu was conflicted, her eyes flicking between Eddie and Kit. ‘It . . . would make sense for Mr Jindal to have backup,’ she finally said. ‘And since Mr West would spot any of our own men . . . ’

‘There we go,’ said Eddie, grinning at Kit. ‘I’ll watch your back.’

The Indian was displeased, but grudgingly nodded. ‘Okay. But Eddie, leave all the talking to me, yes? Just stand behind me and look menacing.’

Another grin. ‘I think I can manage that.’

Five minutes later, having tested the tiny microphone concealed under Kit’s clothing, the two men set off for the cabin, shielded from the rain beneath umbrellas. ‘I still think this is a mistake,’ Kit grumbled. ‘How did you get Ayu to agree? Why does she owe you a favour?’

‘I helped her out of a tight spot about six years back,’ said Eddie. ‘She went after some drug dealers without backup. Not a smart move.’

‘Well, no. They would have been desperate – Singapore has the death penalty for drug smuggling.’

‘Turned out to be redundant for this lot after I finished with’em.’ They crossed the road. ‘Still not sure about your cover story, though. It’s all a bit too convenient, your supposed mutual friend just happening to be unavailable right now because he got arrested.’

‘It’s the best we have. But it’s time for you to be quiet. I’m sure even you can manage that for five minutes.’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ said Eddie as Kit pushed the buzzer.

A light came on behind the door, which opened to reveal a thick-necked Malay man. He regarded them suspiciously. ‘Yeah? What you want?’

Kit opened his mouth to speak, but Eddie beat him to it. ‘Good evening!’ he boomed, doing his best Roger Moore impression. ‘I’m here to see Mr West.’ The man stared at him; he continued irritably, ‘Come on, it’s a bloody monsoon out here. Let us in!’

The man frowned. ‘Who are you?’

‘Smythe’s the name, James St John Smythe. Now chop-chop, I’ve come a long way. There’s a lot of money at stake, so don’t keep me waiting.’

The mention of money did the trick, and the man waved them inside. ‘Your name again? Mr . . . Smith?’

‘Smythe,’ proclaimed Eddie. ‘With a y and an e. Now, where is he?’ A flight of stairs led to the top floor. ‘Up there? Marvellous. Lead on, there’s a good chap.’