“That explains the run-in with security he had at Changi, then. Thai VIPs expect kid glove treatment wherever they go.”
“What happened?” asked Inspector Zhang.
“I don’t know, really. He was behind me at the security check, and the arch thing beeped when he went through. They wanted to search him, but he was arguing.”
“Arguing about what?”
“I’ve no idea. I just collected my briefcase and walked away. But he was shouting about something or other.”
Inspector Zhang thanked him and then stood up and rejoined Sergeant Lee at the front of the cabin.
“Is everything okay, sir?” she asked.
“Everything is satisfactory,” said the Inspector.
The door to the cockpit opened and Captain Kumar came out with Mr. Yip. The pilot smiled apologetically. “I know that you said that we wouldn’t be allowing anyone off the plane until your investigation has been completed, but Mr. Yip tells me that the economy-class passengers are starting to get restless,” he said. “We’ve turned the engines off and we haven’t connected to an ancillary power source yet, which means that our air-conditioning isn’t on. Here in Raffles class it isn’t a problem, but economy is almost full, and it’s getting hot back there.”
Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully. “I think we have almost concluded our investigation,” he said.
“We have?” said Sergeant Lee, surprised.
Inspector Zhang smiled at the Chief Purser. “Mr. Yip, members of your cabin crew would have been in the galley throughout the flight, yes?”
Mr. Yip nodded. “Of course.”
“Then I need you to confirm with them that at no point did any of the economy passengers move through the galley to the front cabin.”
“They wouldn’t have been allowed to,” said Mr. Yip. “Not even to use the toilet. We insist that economy-class passengers remain in the economy cabin.”
“I understand, but I would like you to confirm that for me,” said the Inspector.
Mr. Yip nodded and hurried back to the galley.
“Captain Kumar, would it be possible for the passengers to disembark from the rear of the plane?”
“It wouldn’t be a problem, though we would have to bring out a stairway,” said the pilot.
“If the economy passengers are getting off, then we should be allowed to get off with them,” said Mr. Woodhouse from his seat in the middle of the cabin.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said Inspector Zhang.
Mr. Woodhouse waved a blue passport in the air. “I’m an American citizen,” he said. “You can’t keep us prisoners like this.”
“That’s right,” agreed his wife.
“We’re just tourists. This is nothing to do with us,” said Mr. Woodhouse.
“Exactly!’ said his wife.
“I am sorry for the inconvenience,” said Inspector Zhang.
“Being sorry doesn’t cut it,” said the American. “This isn’t fair. You’re saying that if we had flown economy you’d let us off, but because we bought business-class tickets you’re keeping us prisoner.” He jabbed a thick finger at the Inspector. “I demand that the American ambassador be informed of this immediately.”
“Immediately!” echoed Mrs. Woodhouse.
“Please, Mr. Woodhouse, Mrs. Woodhouse, just bear with us,” said Inspector Zhang calmly. “This will all be resolved shortly.”
Mr. Yip came back down the aisle. “I have spoken to all the cabin crew, and I have their assurance that no passengers left the economy cabin throughout the flight.”
“In that case, Captain, I have no objection to your allowing the economy passengers to disembark from the rear of the plane.”
“I’m going too,” said the Chinese businessman. He stood up and opened the locker above his head to pull out a Louis Vuitton briefcase.
“I am afraid I must ask you to remain in your seat for a little while longer, Mr. Lung,” said Inspector Zhang.
Mr. Lung turned to look at the Inspector, his upper lip curled back in a snarl. “No,” he said. “I’ve been here long enough. This is Thailand. You’ve no jurisdiction here. You do not have the authority to keep me on this plane.”
“You might well be right, Mr. Lung,” said the Inspector. “But of one thing I am sure: immediately you step out of this plane, the Thai police will have the authority to arrest you, and I will make sure that they do just that. And I am also sure that you would not appreciate the inside of a Thai prison, because that is where you will be held until this investigation is complete.”
“This is an outrage,” snapped the businessman, but he went back to his seat.
“I agree,” said Inspector Zhang. “Murder is an outrage. Which is why I want to solve this murder as quickly as possible. Once the perpetrator has been apprehended, we can all leave the plane.”
The bodyguard was sitting in his seat, staring at the bulkhead. He didn’t look up as Inspector Zhang sat down next to him in seat 11D. “You are Mr. Lev Gottesman,” he said.
The man nodded but said nothing.
“From Israel?”
“From Tel Aviv.”
“And you were employed by Mr. Srisai, as a bodyguard?”
The man turned his head slowly until Inspector Zhang could see his own reflection in the impenetrable lenses of the man’s sunglasses. “Is that some sort of a wisecrack?” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“I am merely trying to ascertain the facts in this case,” said Inspector Zhang.
The man’s lips formed a tight line and then he nodded slowly. “Yes, I was hired to be his bodyguard. And yes, the fact that he’s dead means I did not do a good job.” He folded his arms and stared at the bulkhead again.
“Mr. Gottesman, I would like you to remove your sunglasses, please.”
“Why?”
“Because I like to see a man’s eyes when he is talking to me. The eyes, after all, are the windows to the soul.”
The Israeli took off his glasses, folded them and put them into the inside pocket of his leather jacket.
“Thank you,” said Inspector Zhang. “And if you would be so good as to give me your passport.” The bodyguard reached into his pocket and handed the Inspector a blue passport. “How long have you been in Mr. Srisai’s employ?”
“About eight weeks.”
“And your predecessor was killed?”
The Israeli nodded. “There was a car bomb. The bodyguard was driving. Bodyguards should never drive. Drivers drive and bodyguards take care of security. Mr. Srisai did not take his own safety seriously enough.”
“Your predecessor was Thai?”
The Israeli nodded again. “They are not well trained, the Thais. They think that any soldier or cop can be a bodyguard, but the skills are different.”
“And your skills, where do they come from? You were a soldier?”
The bodyguard sneered. “All Israelis are soldiers. Our country is surrounded by enemies.”
“More than a soldier, then? Mossad? Did you use to work for the Israeli intelligence service?”
The Israeli nodded but said nothing. Inspector Zhang flicked through the passport.
“So you are a professional,” said Inspector Zhang. “As a professional, what do you think happened?”
“He died. I failed. And as for being a professional, I doubt that anyone will employ me again after this.”
Sergeant Lee appeared at Inspector Zhang’s side, taking notes. “And you saw nothing?” asked the Inspector.
The bodyguard turned to stare at Inspector Zhang with eyes that were a blue so pale they were almost grey. “If I had seen anything, do you think I would have allowed it to happen?” he said.
“Obviously not. And equally, you heard nothing?”
