Counter Attack

Chapter 9

Booking the express checkout option at Changi’s Crowne Plaza, Mac asked for a steak and chips to be sent up before taking the elevator to his fifth-floor room overlooking the drop-off aprons of T3.

After a quick shower, he changed into fresh clothes and ate most of the steak before walking into the humid evening air. The cabbie looked at him once too often, so Mac asked him to take a left exit off Pan Island where he stopped outside a large shopping mall. Paying the fare, he walked through the concourse of the shopping area and out the side exit, where he hailed another cab and asked to go to Holland Park, but this time via the East Coast Parkway.

The humidity of pre-monsoon South-East Asia created a smell of dirt and leaves as they hooked north out of the traffic and gradually got into the quieter and leafier streets. Asking to be dropped beside a pay phone, Mac alighted and stood in the booth, pretending to talk but watching the almost-dark streets for silhouettes in parked cars or headlights being switched off.

Venturing out, he walked for eight minutes, passing Singaporeans as they took their evening walks, eventually stopping outside a plain white home. It was set back from the road, guarded by a stand of bamboo and a few palm trees. Walking past Liesl’s BMW and Ray’s Toyota, Mac chuckled at the different cultures of Hong Kong and Singapore: if Ray had lived in Honkers, he’d have worn garish gold watches and driven a Bentley. In Singers, he drove a Camry and owned a house that looked almost modest from the street.

Walking softly across the paving stones, he stepped up onto the porch and rang the bell, shifting to the side of the door as he did so. Standing still, Mac rehearsed what he was going to say to Liesl, but nothing cute and insincere came to mind. He was going to wing it, look into her eyes and decide on the fastest way to the answers. If that meant getting on the turps and talking about Ray all night, he’d do it. If he had to scare her, take her immediately to the worst case, he’d do that too.

Looking through the glass side-panel beside the wooden door, Mac squinted to see if there was movement, and then pressed the doorbell again. Glancing back, he walked to Liesl’s blue BMW, put his hand on the bonnet. Cold. The Toyota too.

Walking around the side of the house, he winced as the security lights came on, revealing a double camera which looked either way down the alley. A thick, deadlocked gate blocked his passage and he grabbed the top of it, pulling himself up until he could see over. Through the kitchen window of the house next door a maid washed pots and pans while a couple of young kids in pyjamas chased each other around.

Easing over the gate to the other side, Mac caught his breath from the exertion and became aware of a new sound. Someone crying? Moving slowly down the side alley, he wished he was armed. Poking his head around the corner to a poolside area where he had cooked many barbecues and finished a few beers, Mac saw the source of the crying. The black cocker spaniel stopped his whining and stared at Mac, posing a challenge.

‘Woody!’ said Mac under his breath and the animal came to life in a squeal of joy and greeting. He released the slobbering dog from his leash and the beast sprinted down the side of the pool and darted under a tree to relieve himself.

Opening the patio ranch sliders, Mac peered into the dark house. ‘Hello!’ he said, the silence ringing in his head. ‘Liesl? You home?’

Easing into the living area, Mac listened and sniffed the air for alien aftershave or stale cigarette smoke — something to tweak him. But the front part of the house seemed empty.

As he moved across the expensive carpet, the Chagall and a Basquiat glimmered out of darkness along one wall and the huge Whiteley hung over the Santa Fe fireplace. The massive Middle Ages chess board dominated an alcove like a challenge to anyone who entered this house; Ray was an excellent chess player and the chess set he called ‘the Dominican’ was one of his most cherished possessions.

In the kitchen, a stack of Straits Times lay on the bench, the top one opened to page five, where the ongoing murder investigation from the Pan Pac was being followed.

The place seemed untouched yet not like someone had gone on holiday. Woody came into the kitchen and Mac found a bag of chicken wings in the refrigerator, threw a few on the tiled floor and poured a bowl of water for the animal.

He wandered into the bedroom area of the house. Was she out with a friend? But left the back door unlocked? Had to leave suddenly? But tied up Woody without a water bowl?

In the master bedroom a dark green dress lay on the bed. Liesl had been getting ready to go out, but was surprised?

In the walk-in wardrobe, he noticed the full-length mirror at the end of the room was slightly off its hinges. Taking a closer look, he swung back the mirror and saw the large safe set into the concrete wall, door ajar. Using a pen, Mac pushed the door fully open and looked inside: a file box with the label Shares, another which said Bonds and three four-hundred-ounce gold ingots stamped with Tanaka Kikinzoku Kogyo. If Ray’s spy collateral had been in the safe, it was now gone, as was the tape in the surveillance machine housed under the safe.

‘Shit,’ muttered Mac, crouching to look at the black machine that looked much like a stereo tuner but had a small screen embedded in it.

‘Not enough for you?’ came the voice, and Mac spun, throwing himself sideways, as the light came on.

‘Easy, champ,’ said the tall man, who carried a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine. ‘You’ll blow a fuse.’

‘Shit, Benny,’ said Mac, slumping on the carpet, his chest heaving with adrenaline. ‘You’ve got a timing problem, mate. Swear to God.’

The sounds of Benny Haskell barking orders into his mobile phone echoed around the large kitchen as Mac watched the head form on the beer in his glass. Benny had a team from his professional services firm working on Liesl’s possible disappearance; Mac was holding off on informing ASIS.

‘And when you speak with Max — and it has to be Max — you tell him this comes from me, right?’ said Benny into his phone, pausing to suck on his smoke. ‘And this is off the air, okay? We’re all buddies here, we’re not sending out the cavalry.’

Signing off, Benny poured a bottle of beer into his glass. Benny Haskell was at least twenty years older than Mac and a veteran of Aussie intelligence. A chartered accountant by profession, he’d worked in ASIS, held overseas posts as a trade commissioner, and had been one of the designers of the AUSTRAC system that tracked all banking transactions inside Australia and between Australia and the world. He now ran a firm in Singapore with a former legal executive from the Australian Taxation Office, facilitating banking options for people not officially residing on the island.

‘Got a line into SID,’ said Benny. The Security and Intelligence Division was Singapore’s ASIS. ‘We’ll see what comes back, but are you sure you don’t want the Firm to know about this?’

‘For now,’ said Mac, his mind spinning.

‘Why? ’Cos you’re not supposed to be here?’

‘Maybe,’ said Mac. ‘I’d like to start with the security.’

‘Like, there is none?’ said Benny, shifting his ashtray closer.

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, there’s no reason to put security on the wife of a random shooting victim.’ Benny shrugged skinny shoulders under a red polo shirt. ‘It was a hit on Lao, wasn’t it? Ray was wrong time, wrong place?’

‘Yeah,’ said Mac. ‘So what are you doing here?’

‘We spoke yesterday, when I was up in KL. She was going to get the barbecue going — there was something she needed to discuss.’

‘So you turn up with wine and flowers.’

‘She hates a drink,’ said Benny.

‘And…’

‘And I’m about to ring the bell when I see the front door’s open — but no lights on. A bloke gets curious.’

‘Fuck!’ said Mac, not liking the bit about the door being open. ‘There was someone in here?’

Benny ducked that. ‘I’m here for dinner. What’s your excuse?’

‘Liesl called me — thought I’d drop in on the way.’

‘To?’

‘Colombo,’ said Mac.

Benny lit another smoke. ‘What did she say?’

‘I don’t know if it’s relevant,’ said Mac.

‘If you’re crawling around in your friend’s safe, it’s relevant,’ said Benny.

Mac poured the remains of the beer into his glass. ‘Well, it was two voicemails, and in the second she said there might be Aussie involvement in Ray’s death.’

‘Was there?’ said Benny.

‘Mate!’ said Mac, in the long, drawn-out way that means do you mind?

‘So, either Liesl has found some evidence that Ray was working with the Firm when he was hit…’

‘Okay,’ said Mac, following the logic.

‘Or…’ said Benny.

‘Don’t make me say that,’ said Mac.

‘Been known to happen. McLean, Philby, Burgess…’

‘Fuck’s sake, Benny.’

The mobile phone on the marble bench top rang. Standing, Benny took the call, lowering his voice as he turned away.

‘Yeah, yeah, okay, mate — thanks,’ said Benny. ‘And you got that memo from Sally, about the earlier flight to Bangers?’

There was a pause while someone spoke.

‘Yeah, mate, I know five’s a little rude, but try to doze on the flight, okay?’

Folding the phone as he sat, Benny crushed his cigarette. ‘ISD’s involved,’ he said, referring to Singapore’s internal intelligence organisation. ‘So the Singaporeans think there’s a foreign government in this.’

‘Jesus,’ said Mac.

Benny looked into Mac’s eyes. ‘You telling me everything? I can’t help Liesl unless we’re a loop, okay, Macca?’

‘Yeah, Benny.’

‘Because it just occurred to me.’

‘What?’ said Mac.

‘Liesl didn’t know you were a spook — she thought you were a publishing executive doing deals with Ray’s fund.’

‘Yeah, well…’ said Mac, thinking.

‘So why was she calling you? What was a book salesman going to do for her?’

‘It wasn’t — look, Benny,’ said Mac, but Benny caught something.

He laughed. ‘Oh, fuck!’

‘What?’ said Mac, face burning red.

‘Don’t tell me you intercepted a call that was supposed to go to a certain federal cop?’ said Benny, slapping the bench top. ‘A certain cop who lives in your house? Oh, brother! You’re a brave man, mate.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Mac.

‘Or fucking stupid,’ said Benny, his laughter bouncing around the house.