The Eight Curious Cases of Inspector Zhang by Stephen Leather

would be impossible for anyone to get a gun onto a plane. There are stringent security checks at Changi.”
    The flight attendant who had been talking to the pilot appeared at Inspector Zhang’s shoulder. “Inspector Zhang, would it be all right to serve drinks and snacks to the passengers?” she asked.
    â€œOf course,” he said.
    The flight attendant smiled and walked to the galley.
    â€œSo, first things first,” said Inspector Zhang. “We need to know why our victim was murdered. More often than not, if you know why a murder took place you will know who committed it.”
    â€œSo you want to talk to the bodyguard?”
    Inspector Zhang shook his head. “I believe I will get more information from Mr. Nakprakone,” he said.
    Sergeant Lee scratched her head as Inspector Zhang walked to the rear of the cabin and then cut across seats D and F to get to the Thai man sitting in seat 16H. “Mr. Nakprakone?” he said. The man nodded. Inspector Zhang nodded at the empty seat by the window. “Would you mind if I sat there while I ask you a few questions?”
    â€œGo ahead,” said Mr. Nakprakone, and moved his feet to allow the inspector to squeeze by.
    Inspector Zhang sat down and adjusted the creases of his trousers. “I assume that you know that it is Mr. Srisai who has been murdered?”
    Mr. Nakprakone nodded.
    â€œI was wondering if you could tell me a little about Mr. Srisai.”
    Mr. Nakprakone frowned. “Why would you think that I would know anything about him?”
    â€œBecause you’re a journalist and because newspapers don’t usually fly their staff around in business class.” He smiled and shrugged. “I am in the same position. My boss told me that I had to fly economy. The Singapore Police Force is always trying to reduce costs and I am sure that your newspaper is the same.”
    Mr. Nakprakone grinned. “That is exactly right,” he said, speaking slowly as if he was not entirely comfortable communicating in English.
    â€œSo am I right in assuming that you are here in the business class section so that you could talk to him, perhaps even to interview him?”
    Mr. Nakprakone nodded. He took a small digital camera from his pocket. “And to also get a photograph.”
    â€œDid you talk to him?”
    â€œOnly for a very short time. I waited for his bodyguard to go to the toilet and then I asked Khun Srisai for an interview. He refused.”
    â€œAnd did you by any chance get a photograph?”
    Mr. Nakprakone switched on the camera and held it out to Inspector Zhang. “Just one,” he said.
    Inspector Zhang looked at the screen on the back of the camera. Mr. Srisai was in his seat, holding up his hand, an angry look on his face. Inspector Zhang looked at the time code on the bottom of the picture. It had been taken thirty minutes before the plane had landed. “He obviously didn’t want to be photographed,” he said, handing back the camera.
    â€œJust after I took it the bodyguard came back so I returned to my seat.” He put the camera away.
    â€œSo tell me, why was Mr. Srisai of such interest to your paper?”
    â€œHe is a well-known gangster, but he has political aspirations,” said the journalist. “There was an attempt on his life in Udon Thani two months ago and he fled to Singapore. But last week his uncle died and he was returning for the funeral.”
    â€œPolitical aspirations?”
    â€œHe had been setting up a vote-buying campaign in his home province, which could well see him becoming an MP in the next election. But someone put a bomb under his car and killed his driver. And shots were fired at his house at night, killing a maid.”
    â€œSo he was forced to flee Thailand?”
    â€œWe think he was just hiding out while he took care of his enemies.”
    â€œTook care?”
    Mr. Nakprakone made a gun from his hand and pretended to fire