The Woman Who Loved Cats

The Job

Ryan King checked his black slimline satchel bag. Passport, money, keys, mobile phone. In his carry-on bag he'd packed clothes and toiletries. He was ready. It was only 7:35 am but he called a cab to go to the airport. He was dressed in jeans, a collared shirt and a black leather jacket. He walked down to the taxi when it arrived in Oxford Suede shoes.

The airport was a mess. People everywhere. He waited for a machine to be free so he could check in. No baggage to deposit, so he wandered into Departures where he lined up for security. There were six rows of travellers. He cursed. He joined the line which moved very slowly. Bored, he watched people in the row opposite. Few were interesting except for two Asian women who could have passed for twins. One had frizzy hair and the other one had blonde-coloured hair. Otherwise, they were similar. Slim but curvy, about five-foot four tall, young with a light complexion. He needed two trays just before the screening area, one for his laptop and case and another for his jacket, belt and shoes. What did they expect to find? An explosive shoe? A belt which is a hidden gun?

After all the checks, Ryan found a food outlet from which he bought a coffee. He sat back and thought through how to achieve his objective. On Singapore Airlines, Ryan read a novel for forty minutes, watched a movie, declined the meal except for water and a glass of red wine, and slept.

Ryan was woken by a captain's announcement that the plane would soon be landing. He rubbed his eyes and dashed to the bathroom. The flight was full yet he hadn't spoken to a soul. The two men beside him in the middle and window seats weren't talkative either, which suited him fine. While waiting for the passengers to disembark, he thought of Lily. She was extremely attractive and he regretted not having taken a photo of her. On his return, he would call her.

The inevitable movement of passengers to the exit door came with the crush he expected. Looking across to the other row, Ryan thought he recognized the man. The target. He hurried along but could not pass anybody. Once through to the passageway, he finally caught up with the dark-haired man. As he got a closer look, he realized he'd made a mistake. This man was not the one he was after. Ryan relaxed.

Walking through the Singapore airport was a treat. A sheer pleasure. No lines, no holdups. Straight through. Everything was automatic. It leaves the Sydney shambolic airport for dead. As well as being efficient. the airport was huge and looked modern.

Ryan took a taxi to the Park Royal Pickering hotel. He leaned back, taking in the sunny sights on the way, planning his immediate strategy. It was hot outside and not much cooler in the vehicle. But Singapore was always hot.

Ryan checked into the hotel and was given a keycard and information about WiFi. As he has no luggage apart from his carry-on bag, no assistance was required to get to his room on level eight. The room was pleasant with a kingsize bed, a glass-encased shower cubicle and a toilet in a small separate room. He placed his bag on a bench before inspecting the nooks and crannies of the room. It had tea and coffee-making facilities but no fridge. He opened his bag and stored the toiletries next to a wash basin. He also opened a file which contained details of a contact. He called the number listed.

'Gerry, it's Ryan King,' Ryan said.

'How was the flight?'

'Good.' Ryan wondered why people always asked about this. Had the flight been a disaster, he would not be on the phone right now.

'Can we meet? I'll set you up.'

'Fine. Text the address.'

Gerry ended the call.

Ryan wrote the address on the notepaper in his room then asked the front desk how to get to the location. Apparently, the address was only a short walk away. Ryan began the journey immediately, walking out into the heat. He was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with slip-on shoes. He arrived at a cafe in less than ten minutes and sat down after ordering a coffee. Two minutes later a short slender man sat opposite him in the outside area of the cafe.

'Hello,I'm Gerry,' he said. 'Your photo doesn't do you justice.'

'Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment,' Ryan said. Gerry had sandy coloured hair and the beginnings of a beard.

'Glad you could make it. I've heard good things about you.'

'From whom?'

'Don Harris.'

'Right,' Ryan said as his coffee arrived. The waitress asked Gerry if he wanted something.'

'Coffee please. Black. No sugar.'

'How do you know Don?'

'My contact was informed by Mr Harris that he had a reliable man to do certain jobs.'

Ryan didn't pursue the matter. Don Harris was one of his contacts for jobs outside Australia and, no doubt, Gerry had a local contact. Ryan drank some coffee. 'So what's this about. I was given no details except to get in touch with you.'

Gerry waited while his coffee was placed in front of him. He glanced to his right where a couple were in deep discussion about something. The seats to his left were unoccupied. It was hot and Gerry wiped perspiration off his forehead. 'It's about my sister.'

Ryan looked him in the eye. 'I'm listening.'

'My sister is being scammed by a Nigerian who has obtained many thousands of dollars from her.'

'Right. Have you told her to stop?'

Gerry rubbed his face. 'You bet but she won't believe me,'

'How did you find the scammer?'

'My contact used reverse image search. He was able to get into my sister's computer to get the image. His name is Carl Odondo. And he's here in Singapore.'

'You've done a lot already.'

'That's right. But we cannot do the final step,' Gerry said, waving a fly away.

'Which is?' Ryan noticed the couple next to them stroll away, hand in hand.

'Elimination. Which is why you're here.'

'I see.' Ryan nodded to the waitress and ordered another coffee. 'He's in Singapore?'

'Yes, he's staying at your hotel which is why it was booked for you.'

'Is there anything you want from him? Or is the elimination all?'

'Take a photo after it's done. I want to send a message,' Gerry said. 'Here's a photo of him as he is now.'

I took the photo which was a bit grainy but it would do for identification purposes. 'Nice clothes.'

'Probably bought them with the money Judy, my sister sent to him.'

Ryan studied the photo. Unlike some Nigerian men who had coffee coloured skin, this man, Carl Odondo, had very dark skin. Like midnight black. He wouldn't be hard to spot in Singapore, Ryan felt. In the photo, Odondo had black hair, combed back and he wore a loose white shirt. He was neither slim nor broad shouldered. If he were a physical threat, he didn't appear so. 'Is he registered under his own name?'

'I have no idea. The name he used to romance my sister was John Spencer.'

Ryan finished he coffee, shook Gerry's hand and walked back to the hotel. It was hot and he had read that Singapore had temperatures around thirty degrees Celsius most days. The only break came when it rained. At reception he asked whether a John Spencer had registered.

'We cannot give out that information sir,' the slim Asian woman said.

'Okay,' Ryan said. He didn't want to make a scene in case he ended up killing somebody which would lead to the police getting involved. He returned to his room. The air conditioning was wonderful. He laid on the covers of the bed, arms locked behind him. He closed his eyes. He needed to figure how to find the Nigerian.

Ryan had dinner in the hotel's restaurant which was a buffet. He used the buffet to move about and check out the guests. However, nobody looked anything like Odondo. He stayed at the restaurant until almost the end but catching sight of his target proved elusive. He returned to his room and surfed the internet until sleep overcame him.

The following morning, Ryan checked his phone for messages. There were none. He stretched then touched his toes ten times. Pushups were next. Fifty. A shower, toilet and shave and then he walked to the elevator along a corridor along the outside of the building which showed views of other properties. He rode the elevator down to ground then turned right to the dining room for breakfast. As Ryan went back for a second round of food, this time for eggs and toast, he spotted a black face in the distance. His heart leapt. Could it be? Ryan went back to his table and set his plate down. A woman pouring coffee peered at him questioningly. He nodded and she filled his cup with coffee.

Ryan fixed his sight on the far right area where he had spotted the man. He ate his eggs slowly. He waited. Finally the black man rose and wandered to a juice station at a leisurely pace. Ryan stood. He walked to the same juice station keeping an eye on the man. When he reached the juice station, the black man had just finished pouring orange juice into a glass. Ryan recognised the man from the photo. Bingo. At last, success. He filled a glass with apple juice and returned to his table.

Ryan waited until Odondo left. He followed him to the bank of elevators. More people gathered. When the elevator arrived, Ryan entered last. There were six others in the car. Two left on level three. two left on level five. On level seven, Odondo and the other two guests got out. Ryan didn't follow. He didn't want Odondo to catch on that he was being followed. Instead he went to level eight and went to his room. His phone signaled that a text had come in. A w******p message.

It was his contact in Australia. James Fuller.

The text conversation went like this.

Fuller: Have you found the target?

Ryan: Yes. Just ten minutes ago.

Fuller: Good. Deal with it quickly.

Ryan: Of course.

Ryan checked the time. 10:25 a.m. He grabbed his wallet and went shopping. he soon found a place which sold knives. He selected two, paid in cash and brought them back to the hotel in a bag. He studied them carefully. Both knives would do the job so he selected the one easily hidden in the pocket of his shorts.

Now to find Odondo. He got out of the lift on the seventh level. What was the best way to find him? He wasn't going to hang around on level seven nor the lobby until Odondo emerged. That was a crazy way to attend to this matter. Then it came to him. He would knock on every door. There would be twenty or so but this method of finding the Nigerian would be the quickest way. He caught the elevator down to the seventh floor.

Beginning at 701, Ryan knocked on the door. It opened and a young Asian woman in a short skirt looked at Ryan. 'Yes?'

'Sorry, does a Neville Hill stay here?'

'No.'

'My apologies. I must have misunderstood my friend's message.'

She smiled. 'No problem.' She closed the door.

With the same story, I tried 702, 703, 704 and 705. Not everyone was home but Odondo was not amongst them. I finally arrived in front of 706. The door was open. He looked inside and saw a man cleaning the room.

'Do you know who just vacated this room?' Ryan asked to ensure he covered all seventh floor accommodation.

'Don't know, sir. Ask reception.'

'Okay. Did you see the person or persons?'

The short Asian man emptied a bin into his large carrier. 'A big black man'

Shit, thought Ryan. It was probably Odondo. He raced to the elevators, stepped inside the next one of the four lifts which opened and pounded the lobby button several times. At reception he enquired about the man in room 706. 'What is his name?'

'Why do you want to know?' the receptionist asked. her badge said 'Tina'.

'I think it's a man to whom I've been asked to deliver jewelery,' Ryan said.

'I can't give out guest information,' Tina said.

'He's no longer a guest Tina. I just want to make sure he's the man I should be chasing.'

Tina looked at Ryan with a degree of scepticism. 'I guess it's alright. 'Calvin Davidson.'

'Thank you so much. Did he say where he was going?' Ryan didn't expect Tina to know but gave it a shot.

'Manila. Said he had relatives there.'

Ryan retreated to a sofa in the lobby. He contemplated following Odondo to Manila but, without intelligence, that didn't make sense. Back in his room, Ryan texted Don Harris.

Ryan: Odondo apparently gone to Manila. Do you want me to follow.

Harris: No, come back. I'll check with the client. I have more pressing projects.

Ryan: Are you going to pay for my time?

Harris: Only if the client pays me which is doubtful. You'll be paid for costs, that's all.

Ryan: Better than nothing.

Harris: Let's talk when you get back.