The Deceived by Brett Battles

Author:Brett Battles
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Suspense, Azizex666, Fiction
ISBN: 9780440243717
Publisher: Dell
Published: 2008-06-24T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

IT WAS RAINING WHEN THEY ARRIVED IN SINGAPORE,

the remnants of a storm whose main thrust had struck Indonesia to the south. Outside the window of the airplane, the tarmac was soaked and the day was gray, but Quinn knew in no time the clouds would move on, giving way to a blue tropical sky.

Orlando had made the decision to break up the trip into legs, making it harder for them to be followed. It was a good strategy in principle but was hell in practice.

They had flown out of Sacramento, taking Air Alaska to Vancouver, B.C., via Seattle. From there, it was Cathay Pacific to Hong Kong, Thai Air to Bangkok, and finally AirAsia to Singapore.

The only good thing was Quinn was able to sleep through most of it. Flying first-class was a definite advantage for international travel.

Singapore’s Changi Airport was one of Quinn’s favorite in the entire world. Clean, efficient, fast in, fast out. In no time, he, Orlando, and Nate had passed through passport control and customs.

Bags in hand, Quinn led them through the green X—nothing to declare—exit, and over to the doors leading outside.

The system for getting a cab at Changi was efficient to say the least.

Just prior to the door leading outside, there was a series of ropes herding people into a line like they were waiting to get a ride at an amusement park. Even if there weren’t a lot of people trying to get a cab, skipping the ropes was not allowed. It was the system, and everyone was expected to follow it.

They joined a line of several others.

Outside was a row of parking spaces numbered one to ten. A man standing next to the door stopped everyone, then said something into a walkie-talkie.

Almost instantly, ten taxis came zooming up the road, each parking in one of the numbered spots. Most were the sky blue Toyota Crowns operated by Comfort Cab, the sides of their cars turned into rolling billboards that pushed, among other things, cell phones and Tiger beer and Milo chocolate-milk mix.

Once the cabs were all parked, the man with the walkie-talkie gave the go-ahead for the line of people to start moving. As each group passed, he counted them off.

“One...two...three... four...five...six...seven... eight... nine... ten.”

The numbers corresponded to which cab would be theirs.

“Okay, that was just weird,” Nate said once they were seated in the back of their cab. They had been number eight.

“Not weird,” Orlando said. “Practical.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “All right. Weirdly practical, then. Better?”

She rolled her eyes but said nothing.

The cab took them along the tree-lined East Coast Parkway toward the city. The rain had let up, and, in the distance, Quinn could see blue sky peeking through the layer of gray. The island nation usually felt like an open-air sauna as far as Quinn was concerned. But the storm had temporarily cooled the otherwise constant hyper-humid 85-degree temperature to a more bearable level.

Through the trees to the left, he caught glimpses of the Singapore Strait. At its narrowest, it was ten miles across to Indonesia.

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