THURSDAY'S ORCHID (10 page)

There was n
o jewellery except for a small pair of gold earrings on the one in green and on the other, nothing, her jet black hair hanging far down her back. Both were taller than Tek, but shorter than me – slim, delicate. I soon learned from Tek that they both lived in the city and worked as models of high fashion in several of the more exclusive houses. I could well believe it, their manner and poise were superb; and they were beautiful, exquisite. A person would have been hard put to resist anything they were modeling, whether it was a Cardin creation – or something off the rack.

The meal was at least fifteen courses: Peking duck, walnut chicken, pepper-skin duckling, lobster,
and prawns prepared several different ways, shredded pork, whole steamed fishes, squid, abalone and sea cucumber, plates of vegetables, and steaming bowls of rice. There was more food than we could have finished in a week. It was just as well I had learned the art of eating with chopsticks, for somehow the delicate flavours would have been lost using a fork or spoon.

At first the girls said nothing, apart from the pleasantries during our introduction. They sat quietly eating, listening to the stories told by Tek: amusing tales; some true, some impossible – but entertaining all the same. They smiled and laughed behind their hands at all the right places, looking interested, listening to the
small talk that passed between Tek and me.

It wasn’t until the meal had finished and the Chinese tea was served, that they joined in the conversation. I had thought at first that perhaps their English had been limited, but this was not so, they were perfect speakers; each with an enchanting
lilt to her voice. Nor was their range of conversation limited: world affairs or the local economy – it made no matter – they discoursed with knowledge on each subject upon which we touched.

And if I had been given the task of choosing which one was more beautiful than the other, I would have been lost. But there was a difference. It was in the eyes, or perhaps behind the eyes. Or was it her smile?

The meal lasted well on through the evening – almost to midnight. But that’s not to say time dragged. Far from it. The fine wine, the magnificent food and the company made time fly, and it had reached midnight before I realised it. But what with the flight from Adelaide, our discussions, and the banquet, it was all I could do to keep from yawning.

“Tek, ladies,” I murmured during the next lull in the conversation. “I’m afraid I must beg forgiveness and ask that you excuse me. I don’t really wish to, but I must drag myself away from your pleasant company. It’s been an extraordinarily long day.” I stood up and turned to the head of the table. “Tek, I’m sure you won’t be offended if I leave you alone with this charming pair of young ladies.”

And I was reluctant to go. As the meal had progressed I had chosen the one that was the more beautiful. Her smile had become a magnet, drawing my gaze back time and time again. The garden outside had seemed to be beckoning and I wanted to be alone with her, if only for a few brief moments, alone to speak only with her, with no-one else listening, no-one to interrupt – without Tek. But the spell was now broken, and the opportunity lost, but not before her eyes linked with mine in one brief moment of sadness.

“Goodnight,” Tek said. “I trust that you have pleasant dreams and that the comforts of my modest home treat you well. I shall see you in the morning.”

I was drifting off – into that twilight between consciousness and sleep, when reality merges into lethargy and lethargy into dream. In the distance I heard the curtains rustle and felt the draught go past me and out towards the sitting-room. The long lengths of satin billowed in towards the bed, drawn by the air passing through the outer room. But the windows in the outer room had been closed, and there should have been nowhere for the breeze to enter. The window in the bedroom was the only one I had opened. I preferred fresh air to the air-conditioning. The others had all been locked. There shouldn’t have been a draught.

Somebody had opened the door to the suite. But the door had been locked.

Sleep was cast aside. Whoever was now inside must have used a key, must be part of the household. I lay still, my breathing steady, feigning sleep. There was a soft padding across the carpet of the next room and then a thud as whoever it was had knocked against one of the small low tables.

I could hear a faint rustling, of silk folds moving together, and all I could think of was assassins: of a tightly rolled strip of silk that would be drawn suddenly
around my throat and snatched tight, choking off my life. Tek knew it all now. He knew the foolproof plan, and he didn’t need me. Neither of them did. Nick and he could see it through together.

I lay still, petrified, knowing that no matter what I did, I was dead. This house wasn’t a fortress. It was a prison.

Six

Then the fragrance reached me.

It was the same subtle perfume that had first assailed my nostrils as I had walked into the dining room, but which had disappeared as soon as the strong aroma rising from the steaming food had permeated the room. Later, as the plates had been cleared, and the Chinese tea was served, the scent had returned to tantalise me.

Slowly, keeping
my breathing as regular as it had been for the previous terrifying sixty seconds, I opened my eyes, first one and then the other; not wanting to break the fantasy, for I was sure I was dreaming. But it was no dream. She was there, the high pale blue silk collar, the long black hair, the face that had filled my mind as I had faded towards sleep.

I couldn’t remember her name. It had only been mentioned the once
, and I had been so entranced by the beauty of them both that I hadn’t really listened to what Tek had been saying. I looked up at her and felt at that moment that I had known her since the dawn of memory, that I had been searching a lifetime for only her.

She smiled, tiny dimples forming at the corners of her mouth. I held my hands out, taking hold of her cool fingers, and gently drew her to me and we kissed, a gentle kiss, a brushing of lips, her hair caressing my bare shoulder.

My hand ran up her spine and I felt the quiver follow my trailing fingers, until they reached the fastener at the top of that high stiff collar. I took hold of the fastener and looked into her eyes. They smiled down at mine. She turned and stood in one fluid movement as the zipper slid down her back. My fingers released the catch and my breath stopped as she let the long flowing silk gown glide to the floor. She knelt down to my side and moved into my arms as I lifted the bed covers aside.

There
was nothing said – we had no need of words. Her soft breathing was the only sound that broke the stillness of the night. There was no urgency, and no grinding haste. We moved with each other and around each other with a fondness, a devotion – like lovers meeting after a time spent apart; knowing each other and at peace; together again, as one.

The night drifted into the dawn. I don’t think we slept. I am sure that I didn’t, and yet in the morning I awoke, and found that she had gone. Had it been a dream? The perfume still in the air might have been from the garden, from the night-flowering blooms. But it was not the bouquet of flowers that lingered in my memor
y; it was the spice of woman, a sweet female fragrance. It had been no dream. It had been real, and yet a dream that I would keep with me for always.

I awoke rejuvenated and ready for the new day. After the endless hours of travelling on the previous day, the concentration of my talks with Tek, the food and the wine, and the short period of sleep, I should have been exhausted; but the peaceful hours of lovemaking had brought a tranquility. With the release of the body had come a release of the soul.

And yet I hoped it was more than a simple release to her. I knew it was more than a single night of passion to me. I had never experienced anything like her, and I knew I would never find another to compare. She was the one I had to possess and I meant to have her always, certain that she was mine. Peggy had always said that when I fell, I would fall totally. Peggy had been right.

After a cold shower from those six sparkling lotus flowers, and dressed once again in cool clean clothes
– floral-patterned short-sleeved shirt and blue cotton trousers, I felt wonderful: a spring in my step as I descended to the dining-room. It was not yet nine o’clock.

A traditional English breakfast – eggs, sausages, bacon,
kidneys, toast and coffee – had been laid out on the sideboard; presumably for my benefit, as Tek was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the girls.

The ever-present Sang was once again in attendance, ready to offer assistance; and no doubt to ensure I didn’t put my nose into anything that didn’t concern me. He told me that Tek had left a couple of hours earlier to attend to some business in the city. He was expected back at the house at ten
, and would be pleased to have morning tea with me.

After a leisurely breakfast, I decided to take that stroll around the inner courtyard. This area, between the house and the stone security wall, was a mass of flowers and shrubs; with two gardeners quietly working away – a full-time
occupation for both of them. Flowers, but no trees, and no bushes higher than a metre; nothing that would allow an intruder to hide and glance through the windows; the entire garden a profusion of blooms – sweet-scented perfume floating on the air.

Sang had insisted on accompanying me, on the pretext of
being an expert on the various orchids and exotic plants – an expert second only to Mr. Cheh, he hastily added. He wanted to make certain I didn’t overlook any of the rare and beautiful specimens that Tek had imported from far and distant places. I was tempted to explain that I was already overwhelmed by Tek’s taste for exotic blooms, but I kept quiet and merely nodded from time to time as he droned on.

Tek arrived at ten precisely. I had a feeling that if anything did go wrong with this
operation; it wouldn’t be through any fault of his. How wrong I was to be.

He stepped from the car.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “I trust that you slept well?” I could feel my face grow redder by the second, something that hadn’t happened for years. “As you can see,” he continued. “I had some business to attend to and had to leave early. I was certain you would excuse me for not being present when you came down for breakfast. I hope everything was to your satisfaction?”

Was he being polite, or had the last comment referred not to the breakfast, but to that something which had happened hours before? Did he know?

“Slept like the proverbial top,” I replied. “It must be the good clean air; either that or the hypnotizing effect of some exotic perfume which floated into my room during the night.”

I might as well
let him know that I appreciated his gesture, if it had been at his instigation, but I hoped that it hadn’t been. I hoped that it had been her idea and hers alone. He clapped his hands together, pleased. It was the first time I had seen a smile on his face that had not been contrived.

But there were still business matters to be dispensed with, and I wanted to get these out of the way so that I would still have an hour or so to spend on more enjoyable things.

“I don’t want to sound impolite,” I said pleasantly. “But I’ve got a plane to catch in a few hours. If there’s any other matters to discuss, then I feel we should start as soon as it’s convenient for you.”

He wasn’t the only one who could be overly polite.

“Yes,” he replied. “There are; but only one or two points. Why don’t we go into the lounge and discuss them over a cup of coffee. It is still too early for whisky.”

He led the way to the door and stood aside to let me pass. The room had been aired and there were fresh flowers in a number of large vases, the flowers seeming brighter than they had the previous afternoon. Were they really more colourful, or was it my mood?

Sang was behind us as we moved back to the chairs we had spent so much time in during the previous afternoon. He carried a tray spread with cups, coffee-pot and an assortment of freshly-cut sandwiches, cakes and sweet biscuits, anticipating our needs.

After more
pleasantries and the filling of cups, Sang departed and we moved to the business in hand.

“There is one thing which does concern me
,” Tek said quietly, and then paused as he selected one of the tiny sandwiches from the silver tray. “Once the consignment is on board ship, we lose control. The cargo is no longer in our hands and could be subject to all kinds of contingencies.”

I wasn’t too sure what
he was alluding to, but whatever it was, I didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading.

“What sort of contingencies?” I asked.

“You are now dealing in South East Asia,” he replied. “Not America, nor Europe. The ship will be travelling though the Indian Ocean and the South China Sea, amidst a myriad of islands, passing many different countries.”

I was well aware of this, but I wasn’t going to be rude enough to be blunt about it.

“Yes,” I said. “But what’s that got to do with us? The ship will have radar, and there’s plenty of sea-room.”

“Ah, my friend, but it is not unknown for a ship to arrive in Singapore bearing the sad news that part of the cargo has been lost overboard in a storm.
There have been occasions when cargo has been jettisoned in order to lighten a ship found to be taking on water and in danger of sinking. The cause of the inflow of water is usually blamed on a crack in an overboard discharge or a cooling-water pipe. The repairs take place at sea and the faulty pipe, or whatever has been blamed, is thrown over the side. It is very difficult to prove otherwise.”

“And what happens to the cargo in reality?” I asked, knowing what was coming.

“It has either been off-loaded at some out-of-the-way port, or on to another vessel at sea; out of sight of land and witnesses. And you must remember that the wool in itself is a valuable cargo. They would not necessarily know what was inside it, not know that they were stealing from an organization such as ours.”

“But surely the whole crew couldn’t be in on it?”

“Oh yes,” he replied. “They often are. If not at the beginning, then they are at the end. They know what might happen to them if they go to the authorities. Life is not as sacred here as it is in your country. Besides, they are very poorly paid. A crewman’s share of the spoils could be much more than a year’s wages. The captain is the one who makes the largest profit, of course.”

“Okay,” I said. “All we have to do is make certain
that the captain on whichever ship we select has a reputation for honesty, and a clean record. No problems!”

But he was ahead of me. “We cannot run the risk. Captains can be shifted from ship to ship as easily as can crews.
We might have the consignment loaded on to a ship whose captain’s honesty is beyond question, only to find that half-way through the voyage he falls ill or is transferred to some other ship for some obscure reason. We then have a captain who is a complete stranger to us, one over whom we have no control.”

He got up from the sofa and started to walk around the room, stopped, and turned to me again. “What is more, we don’t know what temptations have been previously put before an otherwise honest captain, temptations which he finds he can no longer resist. Perhaps he
now wants to leave the sea and buy that little hotel in the mountains.”

He sat down again, not yet finished, but not certain how to put it to me.

“Well?” I asked, knowing I wasn’t going to like what he would tell me. “What’s the answer to the problem?” I already had a horrible suspicion as to what it was going to be.

He leaned forward. “There is only one way we can be certain of ensuring that the cargo, or any part of it, is not hijacked during the voyage.” Here it comes, I thought to myself. “We must have somebody on board the vessel that we can trust; someone who ca
rries enough weight and strength of character to deter the captain from even considering any action against the cargo.”

They wanted me for the job. This sort of problem had never worried George and me before. Our cargoes had been either too big to hide, or not worth enough to wa
rrant the trouble. On a few occasions we had chartered vessels and put on some of our own people, and they knew that if anything funny happened, they were for the high jump. But those ships, and the size of their crews, had been small.

So the problem of the cut-out had reared its ugly head again, and of course I was the only one for the job. Nick would be hopeless. He worried about things too much. It needed a younger person and it had to be someone with a stake in the action
, otherwise he might be just as likely to go along with a scheme to hijack the cargo – and collect a king’s ransom by way of pay-off.

It wouldn’t have surprised me to find that this very same point
had been discussed by Nick and Tek when they had first entered into negotiations on this deal, and Nick had come up with my name as someone who filled all the requirements. He would have left it to Tek to persuade me. They had both waited until I was committed to the success of the transaction before dropping it on me. I had walked right in, like a lamb to the slaughter.

Tek glanced across at me. “Yes. It must be you. There is no other person who could fill the position.”

I was tempted to suggest that maybe a sea voyage might be good for his health, but didn’t think he would see the humour. So I just sat there, saying nothing, letting him break the silence that suddenly filled the room.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

He knew, but I would give it to him anyway.

“Tek, I’ve always kept myself once-removed from the action. If I travel on the ship then I’ll be connected to the cargo and I’ll be the first bastard grabbed if anything should go wrong. I don’t like it.”

And the look on my face said again all that my words had told him, and more. “Why not send Sang?” I added as a brilliant afterthought.

“Sang knows nothing of this transaction,” he replied. “He does not even know why you are here.” He paused. “Don’t worry,” he said pleasantly
. “There is no way that you need to be linked to the cargo. You do not have to travel as the company agent, or even as anything even remotely connected with the cargo.”