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Authors: Ian Hamilton

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BOOK: The Disciple of Las Vegas
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( 17 )

Victoria was only half an hour away by air from Vancouver. Ava emailed her travel agent and told her to book an early-morning flight into British Columbia's capital city. Then she sat back in her chair and thought again about calling Uncle. Now that Maynard's and Hunter's data was in hand and looked solid, she knew he needed to be briefed. She reached for her cellphone. As she did, it rang. He must be reading my mind, she thought as she picked up the phone.

“My father . . .” a voice sobbed.

“Maggie?”

“My father —”

“What is it?”

“He tried to kill himself.” The sob turned into a wail.

Ava closed her eyes. “Is he okay?”

“He jumped from the roof of the house. My mother saw him as he went past the living-room window.”

“Maggie, is he okay?”

“They don't know yet. They just took him to the hospital.”

Ava didn't want to know any more. “Maggie, go and look after your family. I'll be in touch when I have something to tell you.”

“My uncle did this!”

“Go and look after your mother,” Ava said.

“I'll never have anything to do with that son of a bitch again, and neither will my mother. And if my father lives I'll make sure he doesn't —”

“Maggie, if I can get some of the money back, maybe that will help make things right. Your father had to be racked with guilt about this.”

“I don't care about the money anymore. It's my uncle's money. It can stay lost, for all I care.”

“Okay, I understand how you feel, but please, Maggie, go and tend to your family.”

“I will . . . and if you talk to Tommy Ordonez, tell him never to contact any of us again.”

Ava sat at the desk for several minutes, still in shock. What could Tommy Ordonez have said to his brother? Surely Maggie had told her father about Ava's involvement and the information Jack Maynard had passed on to her. Surely he must have realized there was some light at the end of the tunnel.

She picked up the phone and dialled Uncle's number.


Wei
,” he said.

“Uncle, it's Ava. I'm sorry for calling so early.”


Momentai
, my dear.”

“Uncle, there have been a lot of developments on this side, and not all of them are in our favour.”

“I am listening,” he said.

Ava took Uncle through her day, from the phone conversation with Edward Ling to her meeting with Maggie Chew, her conference call with Jack Maynard, and her attempt to contact Ronald Francis. Uncle listened quietly. When she had finished the business side of the report, he said, “You have made tremendous progress. Did that Maynard send you his information?”

“Yes, and I've gone through it. It holds up. His conclusions are fully supported by the data.”

“So now what?”

“I need to talk to the Mohneida. I need them to tell me who Kaybar and Buckshot are.”

“I have confidence in your powers of persuasion.”

“And if it takes more than that?”

“Meaning?”

“Financial incentives.”

“Do whatever you have to do. I will make it work from this end.”

“Uncle, there is one more thing that may affect how, and even if, we proceed,” Ava said.

“What is that?” he asked, caution in his voice.

“Philip Chew tried to kill himself about an hour ago. He jumped from the roof of his house in full view of his wife.”

Uncle paused, and then said deliberately, “Is he dead?”

“Injured. How badly, I don't know.”

Uncle said slowly, “He has brought such disgrace upon himself and his family. It had to be a terrible burden to bear.”

“Uncle, Tommy Ordonez called his brother yesterday, and from what I'm told he berated him so severely that Chew was reduced to a trembling mess. Maggie blames him for her father's reaction.”

“Who is to know what causes men to do what they do?”

“If Chew dies?”

“The damage he has caused can still be mitigated if we get some of the money back. I will talk to Chang about making sure that the wife and daughter are not abandoned.”

“So you think Ordonez will want us to keep pursuing this course?”

“Once he knows that the money was definitely swindled from his brother, and from the company, he will want it back. In his mind I am sure he can separate the money from his brother's tragedy. If anything, it might make our case for getting the money back even more compelling.”

“And you don't think he'll feel any guilt about his brother's attempted suicide?”

“Ava, Ordonez is the kind of man who thinks people get whatever they deserve in this life, and that their characters are what they are. I am sure he will believe that his brother jumped because his character was too weak to withstand the guilt he carried, and that whatever he said to him had nothing to do with it.”

“And you're comfortable with our continuing to work for him?”

“Ava, since when did our clients have to be nice people?”

“True enough.”

“As long as they honour their agreement, we should honour ours.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“I know you do not like Ordonez, but men like him do not care whether we like them or not, and any emotion spent in that regard is wasted.”

“I understand, Uncle,” Ava said. “I forgot to mention — Ordonez called me today as well.”

“Chang did not mention anything about that.”

“He may not know. The call was at three o'clock in the morning, Manila time. He wanted me to call him with updates.”

“What did you say?”

“I said no.”

“How did he take it?”

“Not well.”

“I will talk to Chang.”

“Uncle, if Chang can't get him to back off, I may need you to speak to him. I can't work like this. I'm going to Victoria in the morning to meet with Chief Francis, and I want to have a clear head. I don't want to be worried about answering my phone.”

“I understand,” he said.

Ava knew he did. What she didn't know was whether Tommy Ordonez would listen.

( 18 )

Ava caught the first flight out, at 7 a.m., and by eight she was walking up the front steps of the Fairmont Empress Hotel. Behind her Victoria's inner harbour glittered in the morning sun.

The hotel was designed to look like a monstrous French chateau; its golden brickwork was shrouded in ivy and topped with a blue slate roof. It was more than a hundred years old, and to Ava's critical eye it wasn't showing many signs of its age. She walked into the lobby and admired the seamless marriage of marble and wood and the huge overhanging chandeliers. She could understand why the hotel was still on the Condé Nast Gold List.

She walked over to the reception desk and checked her luggage with the concierge. Ava then went to the house phone, called the hotel operator, and asked to be connected to Chief Francis's room. The phone rang five times and then went to voicemail.

“Good morning, Chief Francis. My name is Ava Lee, and I represent a Hong Kong investment firm. You were recommended to us by a colleague who met you several years ago when you were considering building a casino. We have other, more diverse interests, and I'd appreciate the opportunity to sit and talk with you. I was in Vancouver yesterday and called your home last night to make an appointment. Your wife graciously told me you were in Victoria, so I flew over this morning, hoping we could connect. I'm at the hotel, and I'll leave you with my cellphone number.”

Ava retreated to the lobby and settled into a leather chair. There was nothing to do but wait. She gave herself until one o'clock. If she didn't hear from him by then, she would go looking for him and engage him as best as she could.

She picked up the
Vancouver Sun
and was scanning the front page when her cellphone rang. An eastern Ontario area code lit up the screen, and for a second she thought it was Marian calling, until she noticed that the number was unfamiliar. “Ava Lee.”

“This is Chief Ronald Francis.”

“Thank you for returning my call.”

“Do I know you?”

“No, sir, you don't,” she said and paused. She didn't want to lie to him, nor did she want to raise the Philip Chew problem over the phone. So she said nothing.

“And you want to meet?”

“If that's possible. I'd really appreciate even ten minutes of your time.”

She could hear him mumbling to someone. “We have a small boardroom on the mezzanine level,” he said. “I have an opening in half an hour.”

“I'll be there,” she said.

Ava stood up and walked to the business centre. She printed out the data Maynard and Hunter had sent her and went through it with a black marker, obliterating any mention of their real names and their player names.

At five to nine she was at the boardroom door. She pulled at the cuffs of her crisp white Brooks Brothers shirt and then absentmindedly fiddled with her gold crucifix pendant. A thin young man wearing a Western shirt and jeans opened the door. “Could you wait a minute?” he asked.

She stood outside for fifteen minutes, listening as an active discussion went on inside the room. She thought she heard the word
river
, and then the door opened. The same young man poked his head out. “You can come in now.”

She walked in and saw two men sitting at a round table. The man she recognized as Chief Francis was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the table, displaying his cowboy boots. The other man was big and broad and had arms as thick as Ava's thighs. The two men stood and looked at her with disinterest.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Francis said, extending his right hand as his left reached back to adjust his braid. “This is a busy time for us. I'm Chief Ronald Francis. This is Martin,” he said, pointing at the young man who had let her in. “And Harold,” he went on, motioning to the large man.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Ava said as Martin's warm brown eyes caught hers. She waited to be asked to sit. When no one spoke, she sat down, opened her Chanel purse, and took out her Moleskine notebook, along with the envelope that contained Maynard's and Hunter's data.

“I wasn't expecting a presentation,” Francis said. He resumed his seat, put his feet back on the table, and motioned for Martin and Harold to sit down.

“My name is Ava Lee and I'm an accountant,” she said. “I'm here on behalf of perhaps the largest multinational company in the Philippines, and one of the largest in Asia.”

“I thought you said you were Hong Kong–based.”

“I work for a Hong Kong firm that's been hired by the Filipino company. I was brought on to look into a rather substantial fraud case that may indirectly involve your band,” she said.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The River.”

Francis's look of disinterest evaporated, and she found herself the subject of a prolonged and menacing stare. “This is crap,” he said. He looked at Harold as he said to Ava, “This meeting is over.”

Ava didn't move. “Chief Francis, if you can give me about ten minutes of your time, I think we can work together at resolving what is basically a business issue that my people would like handled as discreetly as possible.”

“This meeting is over,” he repeated and nodded at Harold, who stood up and reached for Ava. He grabbed her by the left bicep, and when she didn't immediately respond to his touch, he increased the pressure and yanked her to her feet.

Francis was turning away when Ava's right hand shot out and connected with the elbow of Harold's extended arm. He spun around when the man screamed and staggered backwards, his arm dangling uselessly by his side.

“I'm sorry, I can't stand being mauled,” Ava said. “All I want is a ten-minute discussion. If you want me to leave after we've had it, I will do so without any fuss.”

Harold collapsed into a chair, his face contorted and blooming with pain. “What did you do to him?” Francis asked.

“He has a particularly sensitive nerve in his elbow. He'll be okay in about thirty minutes.”

He stared at her again. She didn't flinch. “Who are you?” he said.

“Someone you need to talk to.”

Francis took his feet off the table and motioned to Martin. “Martin, despite his age, is one of my senior financial people. He's also the most computer literate of us.”

“So we can talk?”

“I'm listening, but I'm not sure for how long. We've been briefed already.”

“You've already been told about the problem?”

“Obviously.”

“By whom?”

“Some people from The River.”

“I don't know what they told you, but our position is that someone seems to have breached the security of the software attached to The River's poker program and manipulated it to cheat other players.”

“It isn't our software. We just administer it for them,” Francis said quickly.

Martin interceded. “Ms. Lee, to follow up on what the Chief said, I got a call from one of the techies at The River a little while ago, and he told me they suspected there had been a breach. He said they had identified what they thought was the problem and that they would have it corrected. He made it sound like something quite minor.”

“Then why were you discussing the situation so intently while I was outside? I couldn't help overhearing how concerned you all seemed.”

“That was me being paranoid,” Francis said.

“About what?”

“We license and regulate online gambling. We have a trust to maintain. People are sending their money into cyberspace with only our assurance that it's safe and secure and that any gaming they do is above board. Anything that undermines that trust is of the ultimate importance to me.”

“As it should be.”

“I called Jeremy Ashton at The River after Martin told me about his talk with the techie. He assured me it was just a glitch that they had caught and fixed. He said that some of the players were grumbling but they were handling the problem, and we shouldn't talk to them if they approached us. He said it was mainly a public relations issue and that they were on top of it.”

“So why were you still talking about it this morning?”

Francis stared at her. Again Ava met his gaze. His eyes were dark brown, so dark that the lack of contrast made his irises look abnormally large.

“I can understand your reasons for wanting to keep this quiet. What you need to understand is that we have our own reasons for wanting exactly the same thing.”

She sensed Martin squirming in his chair and turned to him. “Did you do some investigating on your own?” He looked at Francis.

“Tell us what you know,” Francis said to Ava.

“No,” she said. “We need to have an agreement first.”

“You want to drag lawyers into this?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“Then what?”

Ava opened the envelope and placed the copies of Maynard's and Hunter's work in front of her. “We hired two experts, mathematicians from MIT and Stanford. We had them analyze high-stakes play on The River's website for the past six months. The raw data was provided by some of the players involved. These are their reports. In their minds, the numbers are statistically anomalous.”

Francis looked to Martin. “Chief, that means the numbers are bullshit — they don't make any sense,” Martin said.

“Would you give us those reports?” Francis said.

“Yes, that could be arranged.”

“Martin, how long would it take our people to do their own examination of the data and to cross-reference everything?” he asked.

“To do it properly, it could take months.”

“I don't have months,” Ava interrupted.

“Then why give us the reports?” Francis said.

“I want to trade.”

Francis leaned back, balancing his chair on its rear legs. His pulled at his braid again. “What do we have that you need?”

“The real names of a handful of players who were involved in the high-stakes action.”

“How many players?”

“Five.”

Martin leaned over to Francis and whispered in his ear. The Chief nodded and turned to Ava. “How much money do you think was scammed?”

“Does that matter if your main priority is preserving the integrity of your system?”

“Don't be a smartass.”

She smiled. “I do understand that there are degrees of damage,” she said. “In this case I think we're talking about somewhere between sixty and eighty million dollars.”

Francis glared at Martin, who shook his head slowly from side to side.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Francis said. “Is that true?”

“It's outlined here,” she said, tapping the documents.

“So Ashton was blowing smoke?”

“It would seem so, unless he really thinks that sixty million dollars is inconsequential.”

Francis closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He didn't stir for a minute or more, his lips moving from time to time.

“Chief, as I said, we have no interest in going public with this,” Ava said finally. “I can also say that we have no doubts about your integrity, and I'm prepared to give the band complete indemnification from any fallout, legal or otherwise.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes.”

“In writing?”

“If you need it.”

“So I give you the names and you give me what? The reports, a commitment not to go public, and complete indemnification from any future legal action?”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do with the names?”

“Go after them for the money.”

“How can you do that and keep us out of it? I mean, I don't care how good your lawyers are —”

“We don't use lawyers,” she said. “We use more traditional, less expensive, and more time-sensitive methods.”

“Who is ‘we'?”

“Mainly me, but I have support if it's required.”

“I'm not sure I believe what I'm hearing.”

Ava shrugged. “Let me tell you what the alternative is. The people in the Philippines are incredibly wealthy. They are also vindictive, particularly when members of their family are affected. And one has been — he's already tried to commit suicide. So we're talking personal here as well as money. If we can work out an arrangement, I guarantee you will never hear from them.”

“And if we don't make an agreement?”

“They'll get the lawyers involved. They'll bring in public relations companies. They'll cost you millions in expenses and they'll drag your name through the mud. They'll make sure that no one in Asia considers even a ten-dollar investment in the band. It will be your standard train wreck.”

“I wondered how long you were going to be sweet and reasonable.”

“I still am. I just don't think it's fair to lie to you, to leave you with the idea that there's no cause and effect.”

Francis looked at Martin. “What do you think?”

“I think Ms. Lee has made us a sound business proposal,” Martin said.

“Five names?” Francis said.

“Yes.”

“Then we've heard the last of this?”

“You will never hear from us again.”

He tugged at his hair. “Give the names to Martin.”

She extracted a slip of paper from her notebook. “Chinaclipper, Brrrrr, Buckshot, Felix the Cat, and Kaybar. I need to know who these people are, and I want addresses, phone numbers, email addresses — everything you have on file for them.”

“I don't want to go to my lawyer to draft anything,” Francis said. “He's a stickler for the fine points of the law, and he might think we're compromising ourselves by giving you those names.”

“I'll send you an email with my commitment in it. Print it and I'll sign it.”

“Assuming you actually have the authority to sign anything.”

“If you need to call Hong Kong, I'll gladly provide you with a number.”

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