12/768-F. Motani, N.’
‘I should have said any second now. Sorry, we’re on. Talk to you after.’
‘No. Wait, Mr Kwa. One question: was it raining Tuesday night? I slept early. I don’t know. But very important.’
‘No, if I remember, it rained in the afternoon, but was dry in the evening, okay? Sorry, Wong, I have to go in now.’ The officer started to move towards the door of court three.
‘Wait. I have something important.’
‘Got thirty seconds only, C F. Judge Simeon Malik is on today. He keeps everyone waiting but no one can keep him waiting.’
The geomancer took a deep breath and started his explanation. ‘The main thing is that Motani is a weak fire person who needs wood to give him strength. On the night of the killing, his pillars were bad. There was a clash between metal and wood. Also a clash between wood and earth. But the hour pillar of the death shows strong support of wood to Motani’s fire. If water was present—if it had rained at that time, then very bad for Motani. But no rain. Only wood. This means that what happened at that hour was not destruction of Motani’s life. Only part of the cycle. He will not be locked up. He will be released.’
‘Sudah-lah,’ said the officer. ‘Thank you and goodbye.’ He stepped towards the door of the court.
‘There is another thing. Semek was dead before he met Motani.’
‘What?’ Kwa stopped. ‘What do you mean? Proof, please.’
‘Semek was stabbed on the street. His friends carried body to taxi. He was not drunk. Dead. Big American put Semek into the car. Propped him up.’
‘But he—Semek spoke to the driver—told the driver the address even.’
‘American reached into the car. Switched on a tape recorder. In Semek’s pocket. Contained the sound of a voice saying Mr Semek’s address. Then a gap. Then later a voice humming song called New York.’
‘“New York, New York”.’
‘Yes.’
Kwa’s legal assistant approached. ‘Gilbert. We’ve been called. Come on.’
‘Wait,’ said the police officer.
Wong continued: ‘This is designed to make everyone think he dies later. On cab journey. Even the taxi driver thinks he dies later. Later police examine body. Then tape player has switched itself off. Auto rewind. You play tape. Hear a voice saying an address. You think is the start of dictating a letter. You think nothing strange. You listen to the tape more. You hear voice singing. Mr Semek is big karaoke fan. You think nothing strange.’
‘What about the bag? With samples and cash?’
‘Bag never had samples and cash. Always was full of bricks. To prop him up. Keep him straight in taxi.’
‘You think his partners killed him? But why? What would they have to gain from it? He was the only one with no money.’
‘They are venture capital people. He is ideas man. They don’t want his money. They got money. They want his idea. Maybe they don’t want to pay him.’
Kwa turned to his colleague: ‘Tell the prosecutor to approach the judge. Ask for an adjournment. We’re not ready.’
Joyce McQuinnie, who had been talking to Winnie Lim on the phone in another part of the court house, arrived in the corridor. ‘Hi. Winnie says you got a call this morning from Madam Fu again.’
‘More rubbish in garden?’
‘No. Her cousin came for morning coffee, stayed an hour. The old bat reckons her cousin left some bad vibrations there sort of thing. Wants you to come and do her house again.’
Wong nodded. ‘Better go. Just in case. We can take taxi again. Singapore taxis quite safe.’
An imperfect enclosure
Five hundred years ago a great spirituality came to the west of Beijing. This was a time when tangible gave way to intangible. There was much magic.
Every day a bowl would fly from the holy temple to the Imperial Palace. Spirits would carry it. They were unseen. Empress Li would put alms in it. It would fly back to the temple.
One morning the Empress was not ready. She was in her nightdress. The bowl came into her room. She was half-awake only. She covered herself up. She made a joke.
‘What do you want so early? Five hundred girls for your 500 monks?’
The bowl flew back to the temple. It did not come the next day.
The Empress realised she should not have made this joke. She wrote a letter to the head of the temple. His name was Tao Fu. She told him what she did.
Tai Fu said: ‘There is only one thing you can do. You must send 500 girls for the 500