Snakehead

you’re wearing. If we get into any more trouble, it could be noticed.”
    “Forget it, Ash. I’m keeping it. But if you like, I’ll make sure it’s out of sight.” Alex untucked his shirt and let it hang over the belt.
    “What about the watch? Did Smithers give you that too?”
    “Yes.” Alex wasn’t surprised that Ash had also noticed the watch. He held out his wrist. “In case you’re wondering, the hands don’t move. It’s got a transmitter in it. I can call MI6.”
    “Why would you want to do that?”
    “I might need help.”
    “If you need help, you can call me.”
    “I don’t have your number, Ash.”
    Ash scowled. “I’m not sure ASIS would be too happy about any of this.”
    Alex held his ground. “I’m not sure I’d be too happy if I ended up dead,” he said.
    Ash could see that Alex was in no mood for an argument. “All right,” he said. “Maybe it’s for the best. I won’t have to worry about you so much if I know you’ve got backup. But don’t call MI6 without telling me—okay? Promise me that. I don’t work for them anymore and when all is said and done, I’ve got my reputation to consider.”
    Alex nodded. He had decided not to mention the three exploding coins and the detonators concealed in the chewing gum packet. Ash might try to take those too. He changed the subject. “How did you make out?” he asked. “Did you go to the river?”
    Ash lit a cigarette. It still surprised Alex that a man who looked after himself so carefully in every other respect chose to smoke. “It’s all good news,” he said. “I found the arena where you were taken—or what was left of it—and spoke to a guy called Shaw. You may remember him. He was the one who took the photographs. Richard Shaw. Or Rick to his friends.”
    “What was he doing there?”
    “There were dozens of them, salvaging what they could out of the wreckage. Papers, computer disks…that sort of thing. Our late friend, Mr. Sukit, had his offices there, and there was plenty of stuff they wouldn’t want the police to find.”
    “What did Shaw say?”
    “I got him to take me to Sukit’s deputy. Another charming guy. Looked like he’d been in a street fight…face all over the place. He obviously had a lot on his mind but I persuaded him to send us on the next step of our journey. After all, we’d paid the money. And you’d done what they wanted. You’d taken part in their fight…even if you had humiliated their champion.”
    “What about the fire and all the rest of it?”
    “Nothing to do with you. They think the Chada Trading Agency was hit by a rival gang. The long and the short of it is that they’re happy to get us out of the way. We leave for Jakarta tonight.”
    “Jakarta?”
    “We’re moving farther down the pipeline, Alex. They’re smuggling us into Australia via Indonesia. I don’t know how—but it’ll almost certainly involve some sort of ship. Jakarta’s only about forty-eight hours by sea from Darwin. Maybe it’ll be a fishing boat. Maybe something bigger. We’ll find out soon enough.”
    “How do we get to Jakarta?”
    “We fly just like anyone else.” Ash produced a folder containing two airplane tickets, passports, visas, and a letter of credit written on fancy paper with the name Unwin Toys printed across the top. “We’re being met at Jakarta International Airport,” he went on. “I’m now a sales manager for Unwin Toys. Flying in to look at their new range and bringing my son with me.”
    “Unwin Toys…I’ve heard of them.”
    The name had seemed familiar the moment he saw it. Now Alex remembered. He had had seen their products all over London, often on market stalls or bargain basements on Oxford Street. They specialized in radio-controlled cars, building kits, and water pistols—always made out of colored plastic, manufactured in the Far East and guaranteed to fall apart a few days after they were opened. Unwin Toys wasn’t a great name, but it was a well-known one and he found it hard to believe that it could be tied in with the snakehead.
    It was as if Ash knew what was in his mind. “Think about it, Alex,” he said. “A big company like Unwin Toys would be a perfect cover for a smuggling operation. They’re moving goods all over the world and the fact that they’re for little kids…it’s the last place you’d think of looking.”
    Alex nodded. He could imagine it. A crate full of plastic trucks, each one loaded with a stash of heroin or cocaine.