The Hidden Rooms

1. An Extraordinary Catalogue As the aeroplane steadied on its westward course, I started to skim through the papers respecting the legal entanglement that required my presence in London. Conscience and professional integrity dictated that I peruse the bundle meticulously. I owed this to the friendly law firm that was paying handsomely for my services and for the comfortable seat in the business class section of British Airways’ direct flight from Singapore. ...

3. A Confused Day Bill Riggs was waiting for me at the arrival hall of Terminal 3 at Heathrow Airport. He was, actually, looking fresher and more vigorous than he had ever appeared in Singapore. For a short while we gossiped about mutual friends in Singapore, about my forthcoming book and about his own work in his London firm. Then, as if by prior arrangement, we turned to business. I started by expressing my doubts respecting the outcome. ...

12. ‘Her Loreley’ A classy BMW, booked by Yuan Ming in London, was waiting for us on our arrival in Cologne airport. I was relieved when one of the firm’s employees offered to drive us through the hectic traffic of the town to the shore of the Rhine. A tour of the dome was complemented by our lengthy visit to the nearby Germanic museum, a modern structure encapsulating a Roman mosaic. It was laid bare in the bombing attacks of 1944 after being hidden under the ground for over a thousand years. ...

14. Exciting Auction “You look refreshed,” said Bill Riggs when I arrived next morning in his office. “Thanks. And how does the case stand?” “Our Judge is back in action. In the pre-trial conference, he urged the parties to settle!” “And have you?” “Whitehead and Blackburn won’t let us,” he said, referring to the two fighting cocks. “What’s the matter with those two?” “They had a quarrel – a shouting match – over the Wine Stewardship of their club. Since then they are not on speaking terms.” ...

The penultimate draft of The Hidden Rooms was completed when I was in my sixties. In 2010 I self-published it as part of The Scales of Fortuna. Nowadays, when I am in my nineties, I have revised it with a view to uploading in my blog. Much has happened in the decades that had elapsed. Following my return to Singapore, I maintained a regular correspondence with Brian Davies. Before long, he made his exit from the City and, as planned, opened an art dealership with his daughter’s friend. All seemed clear on his horizon. His business was thriving. Then, one sad day, I received the death notice of his wife, Ruth. She had passed away peacefully from a heart attack. Initially, Brian remained in London but – after a few months – joined his daughter, who had migrated to New Zealand. Recently one of his granddaughters wrote that he had passed away. To my satisfaction, she described him as Grampa. ...