CHAPTER 12
As Eddie sat, deep in thought on the train, Ritchie Nolan and Mark Dobson were on their way back to London for the second time that day. Pulling off the motorway Dobson stopped at a McDonalds.
“Do we get lunch now?” Ritchie asked hopefully. He was already unbuckling his seat belt.
“No,” Mark replied. “This is just a convenient place to park up for half an hour for a recap on today’s events and take your training a stage further. First of all, why don’t you take your unnecessary tie off? You make me feel inferior. I’m sure lawyer Garland thought you were the senior partner and I was the bag carrier.”
Ritchie grinned, pulled the red tie off and stuffed it in his pocket. Mark pushed his seat back as far as it would go and Ritchie did the same.
“That’s better,” Mark said. “First of all, my gut feeling about a possible link between Isobel’s problems and the problems of Kenny Tan are growing. Are yours?”
“Yes,” said Ritchie although neither Mark Dobson or Colin Asher had yet told him much about Kenny Tan. All Ritchie knew was that Kenny Tan was a Taiwanese client with a problem with counterfeit energy drinks appearing around south-east Asia. Thousands of bottles of fake Red Power, the drink Tan had spent years developing a market for, had even appeared in Taipei. Tan was finding it deeply upsetting and even more damaging to his bottom line.
“Kenny’s problem is counterfeiting,” Mark went on, “but there are too many links and co-incidences with Vital for my liking.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Ritchie. trying to appear concerned. “Really?”
“These co-incidences do not suggest the involvement of Jesus Christ at present, Ritchie, but we must always keep an open mind. Meanwhile, listen. Concentrate. This gets complicated. What follows is the outcome of my two days in and around Bangkok last week and various discussions with Jeffrey in Kuala Lumpur and Sannan, our man in Bangkok.” He paused. “So, are you now ready for training parts three, four, five and six combined? Analysing evidence, drawing conclusions, raising speculations and theories and way forward?”
Ritchie nodded.
“Right. Let’s look at Vital in Malaysia. It’s run through a distributor called PJ Beauty Supplies based in Kuala Lumpur. PJ Beauty Supplies sell other cosmetic products beside Vital’s. The man in charge of Vital’s business is a Chinese guy called Ho Chiang.”
Ritchie repeated “Ho Chiang” twice, trying to pronounce it like real Chinese and not like the menu of a north London Chinese take-away.
Mark continued:
“PJ Beauty Supplies seems very light-staffed to me for the importance Vital place on Malaysia as the source of most of their raw materials. Besides Ho Chiang there is an office manager, a lady, an old warehouseman and a Chinese Malay salesman who covers Malaysia from Johor Bahru near Singapore up to Penang near Thailand. Clear so far?”
Ritchie nodded.
“Posing as a potential customer, Jeffrey checked with the office manager and was told there were many others involved - farmers, for instance, are part of the supply chain. Vital buys their produce - coconut oil, peanut oil and so on - and ship here to Oxford for processing and turning into cosmetics.
“Now then, this is vital and I don’t mean Vital. Jeffrey suspects Ho Chiang has interests outside Vital. He’s often in Bangkok. Your job will be in Bangkok but we’ll come to that.”
Ritchie sat up. “Bangkok?” he said. “You mean I actually get to go there?”
Mark ignored the youthful excitement, opened his lap top, scrolled to a photo and turned it so Ritchie could see.
“This dismal-looking building with the palm trees rising behind is Sara Kosmetik, Vital’s Indonesian partner. I came across it a year ago on another case. My excuse for the poor photograph is that it was early evening when I crept up to have a shufti. It’s a similar set up to KL but run by an Indonesian called Fakry Husaini. I think, it’s another weak link, not properly controlled or managed. Frankly it could be doing anything and probably is.
“Now, one of Vitals’ directors, Peter Lester, visits Indonesia three or four times a year. Colin did a hotel booking check on Lester and found he stays at the Double Tree by Hilton in Jakarta. I don’t know what his Vital expense account is like but to me with my innocent outlook, coconuts and palm oil farmers are on their farms in the jungle not in the red-light district. And if Asher & Asher ever sent you to Jakarta you can be sure you won’t be staying at the Hilton.”
“Crooks like Micky Parker might stay there, though,” Ritchie said with a smirk. “Maybe Lester’s doing deals with crooks at the Hilton.”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting but I don’t have an Indonesian guy on the books yet. I’m still looking. Become fluent in Indonesian or Malay and become a Moslem and Colin might grant you an interview for the job. Meanwhile, I might send Jeffrey down for another shufti or go myself. Any questions so far?”
“Will I be going to Bangkok?”
Mark sighed. “Patience, Ritchie. Let’s now discuss the Russian link.”
“For three days this week, Jeffrey camped outside PJ Beauty Supplies in KL. During that time, he watched and photographed several unknowns coming and going. Jeffrey also heard Russian being spoken. One of our photos might match with a Russian guy wanted by Singapore police in relation to a naughty karaoke bar. The name he is wanted by is Maxim Novak but he probably uses others. We’re still checking. The photo is not good and looks different to the one on Singapore files.
“This next photo is of a Russian known to Interpol for past links to smuggling Africans into Italy. He’s not been seen for a while. His name is Sergei Mutko or Yuri Abisov, whichever you prefer. And this photo is of a woman though it doesn’t look like it on Jeffrey’s photo. As you can see, she’s tall and muscular and it matches one Olga Puchkov or Olga Mutko or even Margo Puhkov Olga’s been seen with Sergei and others in the past. She’s trying to look Moslem, or maybe she is Moslem. Nice headscarf, huh?”
Ritchie peered closely at the screen. “What’s that on the building behind?”
“Where?”
“There.”
“Ah yes. Well spotted. We’ve moved on.” Being caught out by a failed drama student from north London was upsetting.
“Yes, we’ve moved on. We’re no longer looking at PJ Beauty Supplies in KL but at another place further south in Malacca. Are you following me? If not, you really need to catch up. That is the sign on the front of the Malacca building. We think they never bothered to remove the old sign that belonged to the previous owners. That’s always a good sign of underhand activities being carried on there. It says Min Hin Sdn Bhd. Sdn Bhd stands for Sendirian Berhad a Malaysian Limited Liability Company. Min Hin was in the furniture business but went bankrupt. For future reference we’ll refer to this place as the Min Hin building, understand? The Min Hin building is another long story with links to Taiwan and Tan’s case but let’s not get distracted. But yes, that’s Olga again - in her headscarf. Big woman, yes?”
“You sure it’s a woman?”
“What Russian man, even one who’d lost his marbles, would wear a flowery headscarf, Ritchie? Anyway, the point is Olga was in Malacca recently and she was not alone. How do we know? Because this photo is of another Russia. Note the fair hair. We think this is Dimitri Medinski and Medinski is another man with an interesting life. He was wanted by South African police for money laundering. Last we heard – thanks to Sannan - he was living in Pattaya in Thailand and involved with a few other Russian rogues.”
Richie was grinning again as Mark Dobson went on.
“Now a few group photos. Not a wedding reception but some unknown Chinese visitors. We’re now back at PJ Beauty Supplies in KL Jeffrey was generally bored but busy in short bursts of activity. This is the business we’re in. Hours of boredom followed by brief periods of high activity during which we either make rapid progress or don’t.
“The only Chinese guy we know in this group is our old friend Ho Chiang who’s doing all the meeting and greeting. See? Handshakes, kowtowing, bowing, scraping and trying to smile. No sign of enthusiastic friendship with Medinski who’s the Russian standing there but they probably know each other too well and, anyway, you know what Russians are like. The weather back home freezes their faces into frowns.”
Mark sat back and stretched. Sitting, cramped, behind the steering wheel and leaning over with the laptop was hurting his back, but he didn’t want to admit that to Ritchie. “Question is,” he went on, “Does Peter Lester know these people? Would a rare smile spread across Medinski’s face if he saw Peter Lester? Maybe I’m jumping ahead and being unfair on Lester but, as you’ve heard, Isobel Johnson has serious concerns and Eddie dislikes him intensely which is half way to a conviction as far as I’m concerned.”
“Mmm,” Ritchie said. “So, what about Part 5? Speculation and theories and way forward? Am I going to Bangkok?”
Mark sighed. “I like your enthusiasm, Ritchie, but for God’s sake listen or you’ll suffer the consequences. And I don’t mean just lose your job. This is dangerous work Believe me, these are people who don’t like others interfering with their way of life. You might lose your own way of life. Putting it bluntly you could get killed. And there’s something far worse than you getting killed. You know what that is?”
“No.”
“It’s me getting killed, OK? We are in a dangerous business and these are genuinely dangerous people. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.”
Mark Dobson closed the laptop and returned it to the back seat. “Right. Way forward. You’ve been to Bangkok before, yes? When was the last time?”
“Two years ago. I had a Thai girlfriend for a while.”
“What happened?”
“I discovered she was thirty-six, had three kids and was trying to fleece me.”
“It happens. Well, you’re going again. Stay single, no messing about or we terminate the contract.”
“I don’t have a contract.”
“It’s verbal. Colin probably recorded you agreeing to something.”
“He’s a bastard.”
“I know. But he means well. Meanwhile, I’m thinking of flying to Bangkok ahead of you. It looks like Eddie might also arrive sometime wearing his botanists’ hat. Right now, we need to return to London for part six with Colin at the office. Which means that that cheese and pickle sandwich we bought five hours ago is the most you’re likely to eat today.”
“But you were the one who ate it.”
“I was hungry. And I didn’t want you to mess up your suit. Enjoying the job so far?”
“So far so good.”
“Right, well when we get back take that funereal suit off and look like you usually do, will you? You’re not James Bond. You must blend in with other riff raff, Ritchie, not stand out like a City bond trader on his way to the wine bar.”