The Water Rat of Wanchai (27 page)

She sat on the bed and dialled Marc Lafontaine’s number.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m getting ready to leave. I’m flying out tonight.”

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“Some of it. I’ll know better tomorrow.”

“The odds?”

“Fifty-fifty. But the Chinese always say fifty-fifty.”

“What do you mean?”

“When my mother buys a lottery ticket, I ask her what she thinks her chances are. She always says the same thing: fifty-fifty — I either win or I lose.”

“True enough.”

“Only if you have no faith in mathematics.”

“So what are your true odds?”

“Ninety to ten, in my favour.”

“Good. I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Without you I wouldn’t have gotten close. Thank you.”

“How did you find the Captain?”

She became cautious. “This is off the record?”

“It isn’t going anywhere.”

“He’s a very complicated man, but at the root he is probably completely corrupt and amoral. His only concern is for himself, and that, I think, is the beginning and end of his story.”

“Could you be less subtle?”

“If he ever invites you for coffee and doughnuts at Donald’s, don’t go. And if you do go, keep your mouth shut. They record every meeting there.”

“I’ve been to Donald’s. So has the High Commissioner. He thought it was quaint.”

“They record every meeting,” she repeated.

“Jesus,” he said.

“And there you are,” she said. “The last thing he is, is quaint. He’s a dangerous man.”

“So how did you manage —”

“I paid him a lot of money for something he didn’t care about in the first place.”

“Jesus.”

“He does have some weaknesses. You could exploit them if you decide you ever need to.”

“Meaning?”

“He banks with Royal York and has an offshore account in the Cayman Islands. Lean on the bank and they’ll lean on him. If you need an account number, I have it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I appreciate the assistance I received from the head of security at the Canadian High Commission in Georgetown. In fact, when I get home, I’m going to write to Foreign Affairs in Ottawa to tell them just how good he was.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You didn’t have to help me the way you did.”

“It’s my job.”

“I haven’t met many Canadian diplomats who think that way. Most of them treat you as a nuisance, someone who’s trying to disrupt their day.”

It was nearly lunchtime and she thought about inviting him to join her. Then she thought better of it; using him just to kill time wasn’t polite, and Ava had been raised to be polite. “I have to go now, Marc. I have some work to do in the business centre. Great meeting you.”

Ava hung up, grabbed her notebook, and went downstairs. As usual, the business centre was empty. And also as usual, it took her four attempts to get online.

She accessed Seto’s email account. Jeremy Bates had replied to the message she had sent the night before. He said he would be quite happy to meet with Mr. Seto and Ms. Lee in the bank’s offices.
Bless you
, she thought, and replied that they would be there tomorrow morning around ten.

Next Ava checked her own email account. She had twenty-five new messages, most of which were unimportant. Mimi was wondering when she would be back in the city. There was one from Marian complaining about their mother; she read half before deleting it. She started writing an email to Mimi, Marian, and her mother saying she would see them in a few days, and then she stopped and hit the delete button. She wasn’t going to jinx herself again by anticipating. One thing at a time.

She checked Seto’s inbox again. Bates had responded to her message, confirming the 10 a.m. meeting.
He doesn’t get many people dropping in
, she thought.

Ava knew little about the British Virgin Islands, only that the territory was a haven for offshore accounts. She did a quick Web search. A group of small islands close to Puerto Rico, the largest of which was Tortola, and it was only twenty kilometres long and five kilometres wide. The capital, Road Town, had a total population of twenty thousand, and it seemed that at any given time there were as many tourists as residents there. It didn’t sound to her like a place where someone could stay inconspicuous for very long. She could meld into most backgrounds, almost disappearing into herself, but Derek was another matter. He walked, talked, and looked like someone who just had to be someone.

It was almost noon and she realized she hadn’t heard from Patrick. She called his cellphone.

“Hey, I’m at the house,” he said.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine. We changed shifts this morning and I wanted to make sure the new guys knew the rules.”

“Seto?”

“Quiet.”

“The woman?”

“She’s standing next to me, making us lunch.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“Hello.”

“Are you all right, Anna?”

“Better, anyway.”

“Things will be back to normal soon. Now, did you pack Seto’s suitcase?”

“I did.”

“Good. Let me talk to Patrick again.”

“Hi,” said Patrick.

“When are you leaving there?” she asked.

“After lunch. I have things to do at the office.”

“You’re getting me at six?”

“Those are the orders.”

“I’ll be at the front entrance.”

“See you then.”

She had one last thing to do online. She went to the American Airlines website. Derek’s flight had left Toronto on schedule. So far, so good.

( 31 )

AT A QUARTER TO SIX AVA WAS IN THE LOBBY WITH
her bags. Patrick had arrived early; he was sitting in the lounge with a bottle of Carib and a bowl of peanuts.

She wanted to leave Jeff an extra tip but there was no sign of him. The doorman was still on duty, and she debated leaving it with him. She decided not to and instead asked the desk clerk for an envelope and discreetly put a hundred-dollar bill into it. She sealed it, wrote Jeff’s name on the front, and passed it back.

It was just getting dark when she and Patrick left the Phoenix. “Pothole time,” she said.

“It gives the city some character, don’t you think?” Patrick said. “Rome has the Vatican, London has Buckingham Palace, New York has the Statue of Liberty, and we have the world’s largest and most vicious potholes.”

“They are memorable.”

“You see what I mean.”

The Captain’s men, Anna, and Seto were sitting at the kitchen table when they got to the house.

“Where’s the suitcase?” Ava asked.

The woman pointed to a corner of the kitchen.

Ava collected the bag and put it on the table. She opened it and went through the contents. It contained everything she had requested, and nothing more.

“I assume you know where we’re going,” she said to Seto. “You can say goodbye to your girlfriend now.”

Anna gave Seto a passionate hug. He received it without much enthusiasm.
She is the last thing on his mind
, Ava thought.
But what comes first, money or survival?

“I need the men to stay with her for another twenty-four hours,” Ava said to Patrick. “No phone calls, no Internet. Nothing.”

“You heard her,” he said.

They bundled Seto into the back of the truck. “I haven’t taped your mouth or eyes this time, but one wrong word out of you and I will,” she said to him.

For the first time since they had picked him out of Eckie’s, she saw something other than fear and compliance in his eyes. He was getting over the shock. He was beginning to think maybe there was a way out for him. She would have to fix that.

It took them more than an hour to get to Cheddi Jagan Airport. The only light was from a crescent moon and the roadway was almost pitch black, forcing Patrick to creep along at thirty kilometres an hour.

She kept looking at her watch. Derek should have landed at six. She called every fifteen minutes until, at seven thirty, he finally answered.

“You good?” she asked.

“Not a problem. The plane was a bit late, but I’m already in a taxi and headed for the apartment. I’ll be back at the airport by ten.”

“I’m on schedule.”

“See you there.”

Just before they reached the terminal, Patrick turned away from it. Ava shot a quick glance at him; he looked calm. She waited. He took the road marked FREIGHT, and she relaxed a touch. On the tarmac, under floodlights, she saw a turboprop with GOVERNMENT
OF
GUYANA
stencilled on the side. Parked next to it was a white Cadillac Eldorado that was at least ten years old. She could think of only one person who would drive a car like that.

Patrick stopped his truck directly in front of the plane. As he did so, the driver’s door of the Cadillac opened and Captain Robbins got out. Ava could see inside the car — the Captain was alone. She quickly scanned the area around the plane. No one else was visible.

“Let’s get out,” Patrick said.

She jumped down from the cab and took a few steps in the Captain’s direction while Patrick emptied the truck of Seto and their bags.

Robbins lumbered towards them, his size even more imposing in motion than it was sitting or standing. He didn’t look flexible or fast, but the power he emanated was overwhelming. Patrick, tall and muscular as he was, looked like a boy by comparison.

“I came to say goodbye,” Robbins said.

“Thanks.”

The Captain gazed upwards towards the plane’s windscreen. The pilot looked down at them and Robbins motioned to him. The pilot joined them on the tarmac.

“This is Ms. Lee,” Robbins said to him. “You are taking her and this piece of shit to the British Virgin Islands. She is the boss when it comes to anything to do with him. Stay out of her business. Just land them there safely, drop them off, and get back here tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who is your co-pilot?”

“Hughes.”

“Make sure he understands as well.”

Robbins looked at Seto. “As for you, I think you’d be wise to cooperate.”

He turned back to Ava. “Do whatever you want with him when you’re finished. I can’t imagine we’d miss him,” he said with a smile.

She glanced at Seto. His eyes were locked on the Captain. She saw a touch of anger in them and wished Robbins hadn’t taunted him.

“Thanks again for all your help,” she said.

He shrugged. “Patrick, take him on board. I want to speak to Ms. Lee privately.”

Now what?
she thought. This could not be good.

Robbins waited until the tarmac was clear before he handed her a slip of paper. “These are the names and cellphone numbers of my daughters in Toronto. Their names are Ellie and Lizzie. I would appreciate it if you could contact them when you get back. I’ve already told them you’re a friend and that if they ever get into any trouble they can call on you for help. I think they would like to hear that from you in person. We do worry about them.”

She was surprised by his assumption, and by the level of trust he was displaying. “I would be happy to. We Havergal girls have to stick together.”

“Glad to hear it. Now off with you. Good hunting, and say hello to my brother for me.”

The plane had been built as part of a commuter fleet; it was designed to seat thirty-six people in twelve rows of three. It had been converted into an eight-seater, with two rows of four seats facing each other across a table. Patrick had put Seto in a window seat. Ava sat on the aisle, kitty-corner from him.

“Good luck,” Patrick said as he left.

“See you around,” she said.

The pilot stuck his head into the passenger cabin. “The flight is about two and a half hours long. I’ll turn off the seatbelt sign ten minutes after takeoff. There’s a galley up front with drinks and snacks. Help yourself.”

She had put two bottles of water and two Cokes in her bag just in case. “Any liquor?” she asked.

“A variety.”

“That will be just fine,” she said.

Seto leaned against the window, his eyes closed. The plane revved its engines and moved onto the runway. Ava braced herself as they taxied, then drew an extra breath when they left the ground, the soft lights of Georgetown twinkling in the distance. After all the crap she had gone through, the departure seemed anticlimactic.

She waited until they had been in the air about an hour before disturbing Seto. He was still slumped against the window with his eyes closed. She didn’t know if he was sleeping and didn’t care. She stretched a leg towards him and gave him a kick.

His eyes crawled open. It looked forced — he had been awake.

“I need you to listen to me,” she said. “Sit up and pay attention.”

“Jesus,” he said, twisting his neck and shaking the leg she had kicked.

“When we land, I’m going to take off the handcuffs before we leave the plane. We’ll be met on the tarmac by a friend of mine. He’s tough, mean, and completely loyal to me. One word out of line from you, any bad body language, and he’ll lay you out. Our intention is to walk calmly through Customs and Immigration. I’d like you to walk with us, but if we have to carry you, we will. Do you understand?”

“I get it.”

“Now, tomorrow will be more of the same. You and I have an appointment with Jeremy Bates at the bank. We’re going to wire Andrew Tam the money you stole from him. I’ll go over the details with you in the morning. All you have to do is cooperate, and by tomorrow night you’ll be on a plane back to Guyana or wherever else you choose to go.”

“I get that too. I already told you I was going to give it back anyway,” he said.

“Yes, I heard you, and maybe I believe you.”

“These cuffs, can you take them off now? What the hell can I do up here?”

“Don’t rush,” she said. “Tell you what, though, how about I buy you a drink? You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“What do you want?”

“See if they have any Scotch.”

Ava walked into the galley. The bar was better stocked than the lounge at the Phoenix. There were three Scotches: Johnnie Walker Red, Black, and Blue — the premium one. “They have Johnnie Walker Blue,” she told him.

“I’ll take it neat,” he said.