CHAPTER 39
At around 5am, worn out by thinking, Eddie fell into a deep sleep. At 9.30 he was woken by his phone. It was Isobel.
“Eddie. I’ve been calling you for hours. Mark has also tried calling you.”
“My apologies,” he replied in a croak of a voice that needed a good cough and a gargle
“Are you sick, Eddie? You’ve not taken another sniff of….?”
“No, no, I’ve just woken up. It’s jet lag and I’m not used to my phone ringing. It never rings in Oxford and…”
“Eddie, it’s 9.30. Mark thinks we should return to Bangkok. If there are CCTV images of us at PJ Beauty Supplies, he’s concerned Lester may see them. It could jeopardise everything. The flight leaves at eleven. Meet me at the Istana. Hurry.”
Eddie dressed quickly, stuffed his belongings into his bag, checked out and took a taxi. Half way to the Istana, though, he realised he’d left the bottle of what he’d decided to call ‘Angel Dust’ behind. Was it on the bedside table? The bathroom? He couldn’t remember. Panic overtook him and he asked the taxi driver to go back. When he got there, the cleaner had already been in the room, the bed was stripped and the black trash bag hanging from her trolley was full.
“Did you find a small bottle?” he asked.
“Ah, yes sir, I thought it was medicine. “
“Where is it now?”
“Black bag, sir.”
Eddie found the bottle lying amongst unidentifiable detritus so he stuffed it in his jacket pocket and ran back to the waiting taxi. Then Isobel called again. “Go straight to the airport, Eddie. There’s a seat booked on a Jetstar flight.”
It was only at the airport that he realised the bottle was still in his pocket. Isobel had gone through check-in unhindered, one bulging case of clothes and her handbag and brief case as hand luggage. When it came to Eddie’s turn his small bag of clothes, journals, maps and his old Nokia was not worth checking in. It passed through the security X Ray unscathed. Then it was Eddie’s turn to be patted down for the body check.
“What is this, sir?” The security man held up the bottle.
“That?”
Eddie needed time to think. After all, he was an honest man, perhaps a little disorganised at times but well intentioned and with only a minor conviction for obstructing the highway forty years ago. Since then he’d lived a busy but law-abiding life. He didn’t smoke and didn’t drink anything stronger than Ribena, Robinson’s Barley Water and Tetley’s tea with a biscuit. He certainly didn’t swallow, inject or inhale narcotics. “That is a powder I am taking for analysis,” he said.
“Yes, sir. But what is it?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “If I knew I wouldn’t need it tested, but I’m hoping a friend in Bangkok will help.”
“It’s a white powder, sir,” the security man said examining it closely.
“That is very perceptive,” Eddie said lifting his half-moons onto his nose and joining in the close examination.
The man went away, consulted with a colleague and Eddie was separated from the queue forming behind him. He saw Isobel standing in the safe zone looking at him. Their flight had already been called. They were late which was also Eddie’s fault. Another security man arrived holding the bottle as if it might be poison. “What is it, sir?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie repeated but as he said it, he wondered, with a horrible churning in his stomach, whether capital punishment was still the penalty for trafficking drugs in Malaysia. Was it hanging? The guillotine? Lethal injection?
“Come with me sir.”
“Will it take long? Our flight has been called.”
“Are you travelling with someone?” It sounded as if Eddie’s fellow traveller might also now be investigated.
“She’s waiting over there.” he pointed at Isobel who was pointing at her watch. She was right to do so. The final call was being broadcast.
“The lady with dark hair, blue suit and…?”
“That’s her.”
“Your wife, sir?” He looked at Eddie in his khaki shorts, socks and walking boots, then back at Isobel as if that couldn’t possibly be right.
“A business colleague,” Eddie clarified.
“What business is that?”
“Cosmetics.”
He looked at Eddie again, his eyes wandering from head to feet. “Wait one moment, sir.”
Next minute Eddie saw another uniform from the security team approach Isobel. She objected, looked cross, waved her arms and pointed at Eddie but followed. Eddie was then marched away to join her. They were ushered into a small, cluttered office where a man in uniform and badges sat talking on a mobile phone. He beckoned them to wait and continued with his call in Malay.
“We’ll miss our flight,” Isobel whispered. “What’s the problem?”
“The bottle with the white powder was in my pocket,” Eddie whispered.
“You mean…Oh my God, Eddie.”
“Yes. I’m sorry but it was so much of a rush this morning I should have given it some proper thought and decided what to do with it.”
“Right, what have we here?” Eddie heard the uniform say.
“Suspected narcotics sir,” said the first man as if looking forward to a public hanging.
“Perhaps I can save you some time,” Eddie said, but the boss held up his hand as if he was in no rush.
“Where is it?”
He was handed the bottle and shook it. From where Eddie was standing it looked like talcum powder. Isobel watched and Eddie felt her clinging onto his arm as if he might be foolish enough to try to escape. The boss man eyed Eddie’s bag, Isobel’s brief case and her handbag and nodded at his assistant. “Check the bags.” The contents of Eddie’s were emptied onto a table by the door. The bulk of it was dirty washing.
“What is it?” the man was referring to the bottle again.
“I don’t know, “Eddie said for the third time.
Isobel’s possessions were tipped next to Eddie’s, picked up one by one and replaced. The boss produced a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles and put them on. Eddie, fearing he was going to unscrew the bottle and sniff it, put on his own glasses again to watch. He didn’t open it but placed it on his desk where he watched it as if it might change colour, vaporise or self-ignite before his eyes. “Passport?”
Eddie handed it over. “And yours, madam”. Isobel did likewise and checked her watch.
“Isobel Jane Johnson. British. Boarding pass?” Isobel handed it over and he turned to the first man. “Take this person’s baggage off the flight. If the flight is delayed, never mind.”
“Yes, sir.” He disappeared.
“Professor Edward James Higgins. British. Professor of what?”
“Tropical plant science at Oxford university.” Eddie said.
The chair squeaked. “What’s a sixty-two-year-old university Professor doing carrying drugs?”
“Drugs? Who says it’s drugs?” Eddie replied bravely.
“Then what is it?”
Fourth time. “I don’t know.”
“You madam? Do you know?”
“All I know is we’ve missed our flight.”
Eddie shrugged. “There’ll be another along in a minute.”
“Would you like to explain, Professor?”
“Of course,” Eddie said. “How long have you got?”