CHAPTER 30
“It’ll be a fact-finding mission,” Isobel had told Eddie and Jeffrey the night before. “I need to see for myself what is going on at PJ Beauty Supplies. Eddie, you will join me as technical adviser. Meet me at my hotel at 9am.”
Eddie wasn’t sure he liked being told what to do but next morning he found her sitting in the lobby of the Istana Hotel talking on her phone.
Because of his upbringing he decided to wait out of sight and watch her from a distance.
She was now wearing a black trouser suit, a white shirt and a red silk scarf around her neck and she sat very upright with her legs crossed, unconsciously twitching her feet. Her shoes, today, were shiny black ones with a slightly lower heel than before. A slim, black document case stood on the carpet at her side.
If she’d expected her technical adviser to be wearing a suit for her fact-finding mission, however, she was to be disappointed. Eddie didn’t own a suit. He had, however, given the subject of dress some consideration and donned the pair of long, grey trousers he’d worn on the flight and matched it with his grey shirt and walking boots.
He watched as she finally snapped her phone shut and glance towards a small group of Malaysian businessmen in suits who had been watching her. They looked away when she spotted Eddie, got up and walked towards him.
“Good morning, Eddie. I’ve just fixed our meeting with PJ Beauty Supplies.” She glanced at his boots but held out her hand for him to shake.
It was small and soft and when Eddie checked his own hand, he could smell perfume even though he, himself, had remembered to shower earlier. “Peter Lester has just visited them, of course,” he reminded her.
“And headed to Malacca on yet more unknown business I understand. Shall we take a taxi?”
“Do we not need to discuss tactics? A strategy?” Eddie asked.
“No, no. Leave it to me. You’ll soon know when it’s time for you to say something.”
“And Mr Ho is in Bangkok of course,” Eddie reminded her, wondering who she was planning to see and still feeling like a bag carrier.
“Yes, we’re very fortunate. We couldn’t have timed it better.”
“And you’ve not been there before, of course.”
“No, never.”
“And there might be the odd Russian there.”
It was supposed to be a warning of the order of preparing for a gun fight, but it didn’t seem to faze her. “Let’s just see how things turn out, shall we, Eddie?”
The PJ Beauty Supplies building was in a side street off one of the industrial parks, a two-storey structure with square, barred windows at the front and a long, single storey warehouse tagged on behind. Visitors were directed by a sign pointing to a door on the left side so Eddie followed Isobel until they found themselves in a small, bare room with a cheap wooden table and a telephone. ‘Press 0 for attention’ it said, so Isobel pressed and a female voice came through a small speaker hanging on the wall. “Yes?”
Eddie’s day then took an unexpected turn.
“Hello,” Isobel said in her clear, spring-like English voice. “It’s Josephine from My Beau Cosmetics, London. I phoned earlier. I understand Mr Ho is away but I’m hoping to speak to your office manager Bella Tong.”
Eddie looked at Isobel but all she did was put a red-tipped finger to her bright red lips and pouted. The reply came through the speaker, a pleasant Chinese-Malay-Singaporean type accent. “Ah yes, lah, it’s Bella speaking. One moment please.”
Bella appeared, a small middle-aged Chinese lady with short black hair, a simple smile, a white shirt and a faded blue suit that was not a patch on Isobel’s. There were female type greetings, weak handshakes, smiles and nods and then it was Eddie’s turn.
“And this is our technical adviser, Mr Higginbottom,” Isobel said.
“Pleased to meet you,” Bella whispered shyly while checking Eddie out from his bald head to his walking boots.
Bella’s small office was filled by three of them. There was nowhere to sit. A fan supplemented the air conditioning by blowing air at stacks of files. There was a shelf filled to capacity, a metal filing cabinet, two mobile phones, a computer, a printer and cables lying around. Eddie felt homesick for his own office.
Isobel began. “As I mentioned, Bella – may I call you Bella? – we’re looking for a new source of raw materials for our range of cosmetics – essential oils. creams, that sort of thing. PJ Beauty Supplies was recommended by friends of ours.”
“Ah,” Bella shuffled papers as if trying to make space on her desk for one of them to sit. “You really need to speak to Mr Ho but he is away.”
“Yes, you told me, but all we need is a quick summary of what it is you do and perhaps a list of products you could sell us. Nothing too complicated. The sort of things you supply to our friends Vital Cosmetics.”
Bella brightened up. “Ah, yes. We know Vital. They are from Oxford, England. Their buyer Mr Lester was here yesterday. He left with Mr Ho, but you really must talk to Mr Ho.”
To Eddie the message was clear. They should have made the arrangement to visit PJ Cosmetics weeks ago but Isobel was not deterred. “What a pity. And we came all this way. Is there no-one else we could talk to?”
“I am not sure. Perhaps. Maybe I can contact Mr Ho or maybe Mrs Olga. Mrs Olga is responsible for the exports, but she is also in Bangkok. We do a lot of business with Russia and Bangkok. I will try. Please wait.”
Eddie and Isobel listened and tried smiling at one another as Bella went on a twenty-minute run around trying to speak to someone in Bangkok. Eventually, someone, somewhere, and Eddie suspected it was Olga, gave Bella permission but there had been a lot of questions about who My Beau Cosmetics were, the names of the visitors and where they had come from. Bella looked flustered throughout but finally she put the phone down.
“Yes, it is OK. I can give you some information.”
“And while you and I discuss products, could Mr Higginbottom take a quick look around your warehouse?” Isobel asked. That threw Bella once more. “Just a quick look,” Isobel added with a broad smile. Bella succumbed.
Eddie was led through the other door and found himself in a stiflingly hot warehouse with racks of boxes, cartons, cans and drums identical to ones he’d seen in Vital’s warehouse a year ago. An elderly Chinese man with beads of sweat dripping from his forehead emerged and shuffled towards him. “This is Jimmy, our warehouse manager.” Bella said and quickly returned to her office.
Eddie shook Jimmy’s sweaty hand and was greeted with a smile and a mouth of missing teeth and then given a slow, conducted tour of the warehouse. “Do you have any Vital Cosmetics products here, Jimmy?”
Jimmy scratched his head as if Vital was not something he thought about too often. “Ah, yes, lah,” he said and led the way to a rack of “Vital Hand Lotion with Aloe Vera.”
“Is that it?” Eddie asked. “No more?”
“Ah, no, lah. This old stock. New stock there.” He pointed to the corner, shuffled over in his flip flops and Eddie followed.
“Where do these come from?” Eddie asked.
“Malacca, lah. Everything comes from Malacca.”
“And these?” Eddie pointed to rows of metal cans with screw caps of the sort used for solvents, varnishes and paint strippers. They were unmarked but he picked one up. It was heavy with liquid inside.
“Ah, yes, lah. Same. Fresh every day.”
Jimmy seemed unconcerned so Eddie unscrewed a lid, sniffed, dipped his finger in it, tasted it and knew exactly what it was. He screwed the lid back on. “Why no labels, Jimmy?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Mr Ho say no need,” he said.
“And the bigger drums are oils, yes?”
“Yes, lah. Palm oil, coconut oil, krabuk oil. You know krabok tree, Mr Higgyblossom? Famous Malaysian tree. My old mama uses oil from krabok nut. Good for many thing.”
“The krabok oil is for Vital Cosmetics, Jimmy?”
“Ah yes, lah. Mr Lester checked those ones yesterday. He gone Malacca now.”
“Very interesting, Jimmy. I must congratulate you on a very well organised warehouse.”
“Thank you, Mr Higgyblossom, sah. My pleasure sah.” He bowed.
“Just one question. When the drums are collected from here do you also supply paperwork, such as certificates?”
“Sustifficates, sah? Bella do paper, lah.”
“I see. Well, thank you, Jimmy,” Eddie said readying himself to depart. “Mr Ho must be very happy with your conscientiousness, commitment and concerns for cleanliness.”
Jimmy gave a toothy smile. “Mr Ho. My conscious. Always away.”
Yes, Eddie thought. Ho was also playing on his conscience. “A busy man,” he said.
They walked slowly back through the warehouse. “Everyone busybody, Mr Higgy. And Mr Sergei and Mrs Olga top busybodies.”
“The Russians?”
“Oh yes, sah. Russian boss supply and buy everything, Mr Higgy. Velly strong, lah.”
Eddie liked Jimmy. He was Eddie’s age. He was mostly bald, did what he was told, had no idea what was going on, wasn’t bothered by the heat despite the thermometer saying 42C when Eddie tapped it and wore shorts and flip flops with socks. When he returned to the office, Isobel was sitting on the edge of Bella’s desk. They were smiling at each other. They even smiled at Eddie. “Useful meeting, Mr Higginbottom?” Isobel asked.
“Very. Just one question. Jimmy said you deal with paperwork that accompanies export shipments,” Eddie said to Bella.
“We’ve already discussed documentation,” Isobel said. “I’ll tell you later.”
“And quality certificates?”
Isobel looked at Bella and Bella said, “Yes, lah, I keep quality certificates here.”
She pointed to her filing cabinet. “I attach one to each of the invoices.”
“They are identical? Always the same? Pre-prepared?” Eddie asked trying to conceal his astonishment.
“Oh yes. Would you like to see one?”
Bella ordered a taxi for their return to the Istana.
Isobel and Eddie didn’t speak but she sat with her legs crossed and smiled. Once they arrived back, she said, “Let’s talk over lunch, Eddie,” and led the way to the restaurant.
“I’m not sure they do anything with coronation chicken,” she said as they settled into a corner table. “I see they do a nice soft-shell crab cooked in butter, ginger, curry leaves, chopped chillies, garlic, desiccated coconut and eggs. How do you fancy that?”
“Might be worth a try,” Eddie said. “Should I take my boots off in here?”
Isobel smiled. “I think you can relax. I don’t see any notices regarding footwear.” She put the menu down. “So, tell me, what do you think? What did you find in the warehouse?”
“Almost no finished products for Vital Cosmetics,” Eddie said. “But plenty of cans and drums.”
“That figures,” she said. “We import raw materials through Easy Trading, of course, but when I checked our export figures, I found they are not broken down by country. When I demanded a breakdown, it was clear that our German and French sales made things look healthy but Far East sales, where Lester spends half his time, were negligible.”
The waiter came to take their order and she ordered the crab. “Do you drink wine?” she asked.
“Only Robinson’s barley water or Ribena,” Eddie said.
She smiled again and asked, but the waiter look puzzled and shook his head. “Still water for two,” she said and turned to Eddie again. “It’s an interesting invoicing system. Almost everything is invoiced through a company called SCS, South China Sea Health, Hong Kong. In smaller print at the bottom it shows two other companies: SCS Bangkok and SCS, Kuala Lumpur.”
Eddie nodded.
“And only two staff?” Isobel said. “It’s impossible.”
“Mark calls it a front,” Eddie said. “A front for other business.”
Isobel nodded resignedly. “That seems increasingly likely. But what? How was your visit to the warehouse?”
“Jimmy has no idea what’s going on,” Eddie said.
He leaned towards her across the white table cloth with its silver cutlery, crystal glasses and the vase of purple orchids and noticed how her small hands lay together between the knives, forks and spoons and that she was slowly rotating her gold ring. “He’s ideally qualified to manage the warehouse of a company in the narcotics business,” he added.
Isobel’s expression changed, her mouth opened slightly and she stopped twirling the ring. She leaned towards him her red lips forming a perfectly round hole. “You found something?”
“Around a hundred cans of something that smells like ephedrine and tastes like ephedrine. It’s a vital ingredient of methamphetamine.”
Isobel sat back and blew a little puff of air through her red lips. “Oh my.”
“And then there was this,” Eddie handed a small glass bottle containing a white powder across the table.
“What is it?” she said.
“I found it lying on the floor between some metal cans. Unseen by Jimmy, I stuck it in my pocket. It’s probably something we shouldn’t pass over the lunch table. Please don’t open it.”
“Oh, my goodness.”
Eddie nodded. “I’m a biologist, Isobel, not a pharmacologist. We need to get it tested somehow but I don’t want to wander into any pharmacology lab in KL. Quite rightly, they would want to know where we got it and the police would be notified. Mark is against that at present because it would blow the whole investigation and we still don’t know whether any really big wigs like politicians might also be involved. Mark knows from experience.
“The question, Isobel, is where does it all come from and where is it all going? Drugs are nearly always hidden for shipment. Boxes of cosmetics or drums marked ‘coconut oil’ or ‘krabok nut oil’ would be idral and, as Mark keeps saying, once you have the organisation set up so it’s difficult to unwind you can ship anything anywhere and get away with it. If anyone ever gets caught it’ll be innocent fellows like Jimmy in the warehouse.”