Dead in Hong Kong (Nick Teffinger Thriller) (16 page)

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Morning

______________

THE SALTWATER HAD SOME CHOP, but not enough for the Predator to notice as it sliced through Victoria Harbour. Kong stood up and let the wind blow in his face. He had to admit, the boat was nice—big, fast, strong, loud, sexy. Most guys thought it was macho. Kong didn’t. Macho wasn’t standing at a throttle, no matter how much boat was connected to it. Macho was untying a sailboat and pointing it straight into the meat of a storm.

He felt good.

No, not good.

GOOD.

Jack Poon had taken him into his trust, which would ultimately mean riches beyond Kong’s wildest imagination. He’d need to earn it, sure, but that was just a matter of performance. Don’t screw up any of the front-end projects; that’s what he needed to concentrate on.

It would be interesting to see what this P.I. wanted him to do.

This woman named Brittany So Kawk.

The one he wasn’t supposed to screw.

A Star Ferry crossed in front of them, a couple hundred meters ahead, and threw out a good-sized wake.

The Predator would get airborne.

Kong held on.

The man at the wheel said, “Oh yeah, baby!”

He hammered the throttle.

The front end of the boat jumped when it hit the wave and the engines whined as the props got dangerously close to breaking the surface.

The guy at the wheel grinned at Kong and hollered.

Then, wham! 

The boat pounded down and headed for the second part of the wake, coming off the starboard side.

No problem.

Kong looked at the ferry.

What he saw he could hardly believe.

TWO WOMEN WERE NEAR THE STERN, dropping what looked to be a gun into the water and watching it disappear. Even at a distance, Kong recognized the taller woman—the blond—as the one who pulled his computer out of the dinghy and ran. The other woman had the same size and posture as the woman who broke into his boat and then disappeared after she rounded the pier.

Kong grabbed the arm of the man behind the wheel.

The noise of the hull pounding against the chop was deafening.

Kong had to shout to get his voice over it.

“Drop me off over there!”

“What?”

Kong pointed to the left and said, “Drop me off over there!”

“You don’t want to go to the sailboat?”

“No, go over there! Kowloon!”

They flew over the second part of the wake, crashed back to the water, and then carved to the left.

Kong kept his eyes on the women.

You two want to play?

Fine.

Let’s play.

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Morning

______________

MICHAEL CHOW lived in North Point, five kilometers east of Central, in Flat 18, 1F, Coronet Court, 321 King’s Road. Like most Hong Kong streets, the place was jammed with shops, people, vehicles and signs. A waist-high guardrail separated the sidewalk from the street. The flats were piled up for several stories above the shops and looked just as busy as the street itself. Air conditioners stuck out everywhere and hummed with a mean persistency. The entrance was an inconspicuous door sandwiched between two shops. Prarie and Emmanuelle walked into that entrance and rang the buzzer for Chow’s flat.

No answer.

They pressed it again.

Same thing.

“What do you think?” Emmanuelle asked.

Prarie shifted her feet.

“We’ve come this far.”

They headed up.

They didn’t encounter a lot of people on the way, but the ones they did meet gave them an extra curious stare.

They were western.

The building wasn’t the Ritz.

They knocked on Chow’s door.

No one answered.

THE DOORKNOB WAS LOCKED and wouldn’t turn, but the door hadn’t been pulled shut all the way and the latch hadn’t caught. When they pushed, it actually swung in. They stepped inside and closed it solidly behind them. The place was scorching in spite of the air conditioner.

It was small, too.

They didn’t talk and set to work.

Prarie downloaded computer files while Emmanuelle shuffled through papers. They hadn’t been at it for more than five minutes when a noise came from the door.

They froze.

Someone outside was sticking a key in the lock.

“Someone’s coming!”

Prarie looked around for something to fight with.

Anything.

She grabbed a pair of scissors.

Two seconds later, the door opened.

A WOMAN WALKED IN, stopped in her tracks and said something in Cantonese. She was in her early twenties, timid, slender and conservatively dressed in shorts and sandals. She didn’t have the look of a person involved in something desperate or illegal.

She looked innocent.

“Speak in English,” Emmanuelle said.

The woman switched to English.

“Who are you?”

“Friends of Michael’s,” Emmanuelle said. “Who are you?”

“His girlfriend,” she said. “How did you get in here?”

Emmanuelle sat down on the couch and motioned for the woman to join her.

“Let’s talk for a minute.”

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Morning

______________

TEFFINGER
KNEW D’ASIA wouldn’t come back but hung around for an hour anyway before checking out and heading down to the car. The more he thought about it, the more he saw her point. He wouldn’t trust anyone either if they were sleeping with the enemy.

He was halfway to Fan Rae’s when he realized something
bad
.

D’Asia never asked for his number.

Teffinger
didn’t have hers.

He didn’t know where she was staying, other than down deep. Hell, he didn’t even know her last name. He turned around, headed back to the Fleming and checked back into his room. The guy at the reception desk gave him a curious glance and then kept all expressions off his face.

“Welcome back to the Fleming, Mr.
Teffinger
.”

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s good to finally be back. It doesn’t look like much has changed since the last time I was here.”

There.

Done.

This way, if d’Asia needed to contact him, she’d at least have a place to leave a message.

HE MUST HAVE HAD A LOOK ON HIS FACE when he got to Fan Rae’s flat because she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She studied him and said, “Okay, be that way.”

“Honest, nothing’s wrong.”

“Fine.”

He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Okay, there is one thing.”

“I knew it—”

“I don’t think your friend from work likes me,” he said, “the one who stopped in at
Hei Yewan
. She barely even looked at me when she left.”

Fan Rae paused.

Then said, “Don’t take it personal. She’s like that.”

“So what’s her story?”

Fan Rae cocked her head. “Why? Do you like her?”

He shrugged.

“No, it’s just that she seemed interesting,” he said. “Maybe we should go out for a drink tonight and invite her along. I’m sure she has some good stories to tell about you.”

Fan Rae rolled her eyes.

“Where are you going with this,
Nick
? Are you looking for a threesome?”

He held up his hands in defense.

“No, not at all—”

She put a finger on his lips. “I don’t mind, if you want to,” she said. “I’ve done them before. But it can’t be with anyone from work. I’m sure you understand why.”

THEN SOMETHING UNEXPECTED HAPPENED.

Fan Rae said, “So we can bring her along if you want, but you only get me at the end of the evening.”

“Trust me, you’re all I want,” he said.

He kissed her to prove it.

Then
he
said, “I need coffee.”

She did too
s
o they headed out.

On the way he said, “Were you serious about that threesome?”

She was.

Dead.

“I like a woman every now and then,” she said. “I guess it’s time you knew that. In fact, the more I think about it, we should definitely do it. I want you to know who I am, deep down. If it turns out that you’re not going to like me, I’d rather know it sooner than later.”

“We’re way past that,”
Teffinger
said, and meant it.

“I know someone,” Fan Rae said. “I think you’ll like her. She smells like flowers.”

Flowers.

There was nothing wrong with flowers
—bouquets
of flower
, f
ields of flowers
, t
hey were all good.

“Afterwards, we’ll all get matching tattoos,” she said.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded.

“Something small and quick, just a memento.”

She looked at him.

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” he said.

“Well, I guess what you need to ask yourself is whether the time has come.”

He thought about it.

The answer surprised him

“Okay,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

He was.

Positive.

SHE LOOPED HER ARM THROUGH HIS. “You got me all hot,” she said. “I want to do it tonight—the threesome and the tattoo. This is perfect, with today being Saturday.”

“What about your friend from work?”

“We’ll meet with her earlier, if she’s available.”

“Okay.”

“She’s sort of cute, don’t you think?”

He did.

He did indeed.

“We’ll use her to get you all hot and bothered,” Fan Rae said. “Then we’ll cut her loose and move on to the you-know-what.”

That sounded reasonable
, s
o reasonable that he picked Fan Rae up with one arm and swung her around until they both got dizzy.

“No flowers,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“The tattoo. I can’t be running around with a flower on me.”

Fan Rae laughed at the thought.

“Actually, I think a flower would be befitting.”

Teffinger
cocked his head.

Maybe she was right.

HE DUCKED INSIDE A SMALL EATERY for coffee. When he got out, Fan Rae had a grin on her face. “I made the calls,” she said. “It’s all set up.”

Cool

Very cool.

“I’m going to get seriously drunk tonight and enjoy every minute of it,” she said.

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Morning

______________

KONG WAS ALREADY ON SHORE, waiting and watching fifty meters from the pier, when the two women got off the Star Ferry. He expected them to hop on a bus up Nathan Road but they walked over to the InterContinental Hotel instead.

He followed and t
hen waited outside
, at first for a half hour, t
hen
for
an hour.

The sun rose higher and trained every ounce of its energy directly on Kong, heating him up, frying his brain. He needed air conditioning; not in ten minutes, now, right this second. Two minutes later he pushed through revolving doors and into an opulent lobby. He’d been there before but it had been years and he’d forgotten how elegant it was.

It pissed him off.

The women could afford it because they were using the blackmail money
—
his
money.

Well that was going to change.

A MAN AND A WOMAN stood behind the reception desk. Kong walked over to the woman, put on his friendliest GQ face, and explained that he was there for a meeting with two ladies. He was supposed to meet them in the lobby, but got here late and was afraid they might have gone back to their rooms.

“What are their names?” the woman asked.