Dead in Hong Kong (Nick Teffinger Thriller) (17 page)

Kong wrinkled his forehead.

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t know. I only know what they look like.”

He described them.

“That could be Emmanuelle Laurent and her friend,” the woman said. “Would you like me to call her room and check?”

Kong nodded.

“You’re too nice.”

He watched as she pressed the numbers.

718.

No one answered.

“Well, thanks for trying,” Kong said. “You’re very sweet. I really appreciate your time.”

He left.

Outside, it was just as hot as before.

He found a place to sit by the water, a shady spot with an ocean breeze, and contemplated the next move.

HIS FIRST INSTINCT was to get inside room 718, but he suppressed it. The hotel had too many cameras and security was tight. Making a move there could only lead to disaster. He needed to wait until the women got off-site.

That would take patience.

Usually that was something he didn’t have.

But he’d make an exception, just for them.

HE CALLED KAM LEE and said, “Did you ever contact that guy?” He didn’t need to define that guy. They both understood it was the client, the one who would probably be interested in taking a session all the way.

“I did,” she said. “He’s interested.”

“Will he pay?”

“Yes, but we didn’t get into specifics,” she said. “He wants to see them first. Why?”

Kong told her.

He might have a lead.

It might be sooner than later.

“I’ll tell him,” she said. “By the way, for your information, I’m still trembling from that little session you did with me. Next time I want you to stretch me even tighter.”

Kong shook his head.

“You don’t go any tighter, darling.”

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Morning

______________

MICHAEL CHOW’S GIRLFRIEND didn’t want to talk at first but then saw something in Emmanuelle’s eyes and loosened up. She turned out to be a 20-year-old student at the University of Hong Kong named Sya Bo Lau, majoring in marine biology. She knew Michael was up to something, but didn’t know what. He’d been spending a lot of time with people from Paris during the last week. Michael kept telling her he was going to be rich if things went well. It had something to do with finding some kind of treasure.

“Paintings?” Emmanuelle asked.

“Maybe,” she said. “I don’t know exactly what, but I do know he’s real nervous all the time. He’s been spying on a man named Guotin Pak.”

“Who’s Guotin Pak?”

She didn’t know.

She sensed he was someone dangerous.

They talked for another ten minutes.

Then Emmanuelle said, “The worst vice is advice but I’m going to give you some anyway because you’re such a nice person. Get a new boyfriend and do it quickly. Michael Chow isn’t the person you think he is.”

She expected the woman to press for specifics
b
ut she didn’t.

Instead she got a distant look in her eyes.

“I’m going to ask you to do one thing for us,” Emmanuelle said. “Don’t tell Michael we were here and don’t tell him that we talked. It will be better for us that way but more importantly it will be better for you.”

Sya Bo nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know, I said okay.”

“Find a reason to break things off,” Emmanuelle said. “There’s a good man out there somewhere just waiting to meet you. This won’t be the end of the world.”

The woman’s eyes got wet.

Emmanuelle hugged her.

Prarie did too.

Then they got the hell out of there.

At street level, Prarie said, “Do you think she’ll listen?”

“If she doesn’t, at least we tried.”

THEY RESEARCHED GUOTIN PAK on the net and didn’t find much, other than he lived on the south side of the island. “Let’s swing by his house and scout it out,” Emmanuelle said. “How far of a drive is it”

Prarie shrugged.

“Less than an hour, I guess.”

“Good.”

The south side of Hong Kong Island, although geographically not far from the city, was a dramatically different world—an island world of beaches and vistas and aqua water
s, untamed by man and l
argely as nature intended it
, n
ot totally unspoiled
b
ut mostly.

Pak lived in a modest but standalone house on a low bluff, almost close enough for the water to lick if a good-sized storm came in at high tide.

“I’d be nervous living there,” Prarie said.

They saw no signs of activity.

They saw no
cars.

Emmanuelle tapped her fingers on the dash and said, “We need to get inside and look around.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

No
, s
he wasn’t.

“I’m still freaked out over the key going into Chow’s door,” Prarie said.

Emmanuelle nodded
, u
nderstanding.

Then said, “I’m not talking about right now. We’ll come back tonight after dark. Hey, do me a favor, will you? Don’t let me forget about that guy who drove by you going the other way after you got released, the guy with the tattoo on his neck. I forgot all about him until just now. We still need to run him down.”

“What made you think of him just now?”

“I don’t know. The mind’s a funny thing.”

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Afternoon

______________

TEFFINGER
STOOD BACK as Fan Rae knocked on Syling Wu’s door. Unlike last time, when no noises came from inside, this time a shuffling vibration resonated
and
the door opened.
A petit young woman wearing a tank top and white panties look surprised to see them. She had sleep in her eyes. The knock must have pulled her out of bed.

She wasn’t Syling Wu.

She must be a roommate or a friend.

“Do you speak English?” Fan Rae asked.

The woman shook her head.

Fan Rae looked at
Teffinger
and said, “Sorry.”

Then the two women spoke in Cantonese. After a few moments, the young woman invited them in. The place was small but neat, with a main living area that included the kitchen, a separate bedroom and a bathroom. Two loud air conditioners ran at full speed and managed to keep the place tolerable. Fan Rae must have said something about
Teffinger
because the woman smiled shyly and then got the coffee pot going.

Teffinger
nodded at her and said, “Thanks.”

They spent some time there, more than a bit
.

Teffinger
spent it drinking coffee, looking out the window and wishing he spoke the language. Fan Rae spent it jotting down notes and going through Syling’s computer.

When they were finished, Fan Rae said, “She wants to know if she can give you a hug, for trying to help Syling.”

Teffinger
looked at the woman.

She turned her head
, shyly, t
hen walked over and gave
Teffinger
a hug.

He patted her on the back.

“We’ll find her,” he said.

OUTSIDE, FAN RAE POINTED to a no-nonsense eatery across the street and said, “Feed me, cowboy.”

“Cowboy?”

“Right.”

“You know what a cowboy is?”

“God,
Nick
, sometimes you act like Hong Kong is on Mars.”

He flicked hair out of his face.

“Okay, if you know what a cowboy is, name one.”

She hesitated, s
tumped
, then
smiled and said, “John Travolta.”

He pulled up an image from
Pulp Fiction
, almost said “No,” but then remembered
Urban Cowboy
, and decided to give it to her.

“Close enough.”

They were seated in ten seconds and plates of rice, chicken and vegetables clanged down in from of them three minutes later. Fan Rae told him what all the Cantonese was about across the street. The roommate in the white panties was Tu Lien Lo, who worked as a bartender at Mink on Hollywood Road.

“Mink?”

“Right.”

“What’s Mink?”

“A hotspot,” Fan Rae said. “Think pretty people on leather couches.”

Anyway, according to the roommate, Syling Wu worked as a hostess girl, but that was it—she didn’t use it as a front for prostitution.

“Syling and her friend, Nuwa Moon, stopped in at Mink for a couple of drinks on Wednesday night before heading to
Hei Yewan
,” Fan Rae said.

“So they were definitely together.”

“Right.”

“Speaking of
Hei Yewan
,” Fan Rae said, “Tu Lien doesn’t know an
ything about it or the K’ung chia
ro
om. She’s never been there. G-punk
isn’t her thing.”

Teffinger
nodded.

He already figured that out.

“As far as she knows, Syling wasn’t into anything weird or in any kind of trouble,” Fan Rae said. “She doesn’t know anyone with a reason to hurt her. But she knows something’s wrong, because it’s totally out of character for Syling to just drop off the earth.”

Teffinger
chewed a piece of chicken.

“So why didn’t she report it if she knew something was wrong?”

“Good question,” Fan Rae said. “In fact, that’s the exact question I asked her.”

“And?”

“And, you’re very sexy when you eat,” she said. “Did anyone ever tell you that?”

TEFFINGER
GAVE HER A SIDEWAYS GLANCE.

“Be careful,” he said, “I’m not above pushing everything off this table and throwing you on top.”

She stared into his eyes.

“Yes you are.”

“Are what?”

“Above it.

“Not I’m not.”

“Okay, then do it,” she said.

“You want me to take you, right here right now, on the top of this table?”

“You said you would, so do it.”

“I said I could, not would,”
Teffinger
said. “There’s a big difference.”

“Fine, don’t do it if you’re afraid,” she said. “Anyway, getting back to your question, she didn’t report it because a P.I. was already working on the case. He stopped by two days ago and talked to her.”

“Who?”

“Some creepy guy,” she said. “Her words, not mine—creepy guy. Does that remind you of anyone?”

It did.

It did indeed.

A creepy guy had been in Syling’s hostess bar last night asking questions about her.

“Who hired him?”
Teffinger
asked.

She shrugged.

“We need to find out,”
Teffinger
said. “That’s the next step.”

“Why? Who cares?”

“We care.”

“We do?”

He nodded.

Yes.

They did.

“Why?”

“Because people who hire a P.I. instead of going to the police usually do it because they don’t want to be involved with the police,” he said. “And the reason they usually don’t want to be involved with the police is because they have something to hide.”

“So?”

“So, if someone has something to hide, and that person is somehow connected to Syling Wu, I get awful curious as to who it is and what they’re hiding.”

Fan Rae studied him.

“You scare me sometimes,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because you think like them.”

“What do you mean—them?”

“You know, the bad guys.”

“I don’t think like them. I just know how they think. There’s a difference. A big difference.”

“Like could and would.”

“Exactly.”

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Evening

______________

SATURDAY NIGHT was the absolute worst time for Kong to be away from Ra, but he had no choice. Right now he knew where the women were, but if they checked out and disappeared, he would never get this chance again. In the afternoon, he figured out how they got out of the hotel earlier today after he watched the front entrance for an hour—they left by car out of the parking garage. He planted himself by the garage and waited all afternoon. That waiting paid off, because
they actually returned in a vehicle—a
blue VW Passat.

He wrote down the license plate number.

Then he called Kam Lee at the dungeon and said, “Can I borrow your car?”

“Why?”

He explained.

It was to follow the two women when they left the hotel again.

“Do you just want the car or do you want me to be with you?”

Kong wiped sweat off his forehead.

“It’ll be safer for you if you’re not around.”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

He considered it. There might be a need for two pairs of eyes. Plus she was goo
d company. He almost said, “Okay,” b
ut decided against it
, f
or her sake.

“You’ll be involved enough after I get them,” he said. “Let’s not press our luck. Can you throw some rope in the trunk?”

Half an hour later she pulled up in red Audi, handed him the keys and gave him a long wet kiss before she disappeared. He parked it where he had a good view of the parking garage without being obvious.

Then he waited, for a full hour, followed by a second and a third.

Then, finally, the women pulled out.

HE FOLLOWED THEM through t
he Cross Harbour Tunnel,
all the way to the south side of Hong Kong Island. Where in the hell were they going?

Traffic thinned.

He
dropped back.

The women passed Aberdeen Harbour and Deep Water Bay, then pulled into a parking lot at Repulse Bay.

They got out and took a walk on the beach as the sky changed from late evening to early night. Kong almost made a move, but there were a few too many stragglers around for his taste. Then the women got back in their car, turned on their headlights and headed east towards Tai Tan Bay. Before they got there, though, they turned onto a side road.

Kong turned the headlights off and crept along behind them.

The women made a slow pass by a house on a low bluff.

Fifty meters later, they pulled over and stopped.

Then their taillights went out.

They were sitting there
, a
lone
, r
ipe for the taking.

Half of Kong’s brain told him to take them now.

The other half said to hold on for a few minutes and see what they were up to.

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Evening

______________

SATURDAY NIGHT, Prarie and Emmanuelle drove to the south side of the island, bided their time at Repulse Bay until the sky got good and dark, and then made a pass by Guotin Pak’s house. No one appeared to be home.

Perfect.

They continued for another fifty meters and killed the engine.

“You still up for this?” Emmanuelle asked.

“Not really.”

“Okay, wait here.”

“I was kidding.”

With knives and flashlights in hand, they doubled back to the house, looked in the windows and saw no signs of life. Just in case someone was inside sleeping, Emmanuelle knocked on the front door.

No response.

She knocked louder.

No response.

The front and back doors were both locked, so they broke a rear window. Emmanuelle crawled through and opened the back door for Prarie.

The main room and the kitchen showed nothing of interest.

But the adjacent room did.

It was an art studio with lots of northern windows. The pungent odor of turpentine hung in the air. A large easel held a panting in progress. Although it was only half finished, Prarie recognized it immediately as she flicked the flashlight over it.

“This is a Renoir,” she said. “He’s replicating a Renoir. It’s not one of the ones at Musee d’Orsay, though.”

“Where is it from?”

Prarie didn’t know.

“Look at this,” she said, flashing her light on a large wooden table. Dozens of detailed photographs of the original painting were carefully laid out. Many of them had yellow post-its with handwritten notes. “I still don’t see how he can do it, even with all this reference material. The guy’s got some serious talent.”

“He better,” Emmanuelle said. “He’s got five paintings hanging in Musee d’Orsay. He’s the only person currently alive who can actually say that.”

A FAINT BUT DEFINITE NOISE suddenly came from the back of the house, as if someone bumped into something.
They looked at each other
, t
hen turned off their flashlights.

The room turned blacker than black, so black that they couldn’t even see each other.

They stood p
erfectly still
with pounding blood
.

Prarie shifted the knife to her right hand.

In the process, the flashlight dropped to the floor, flicked on and rolled.

The eerie moving beam lit up the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway.

He was big
, menacing and s
tationary
, then
started towards them.

Emmanuelle shined her light in his eyes and said, “We got knives!”

The man stopped.

No one moved.

No one said anything.

The man carefully bent down and picked the flashlight off the floor and then trained it on them—Emmanuelle first, then Prarie.

“Put them on the floor,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Bullshit! Step aside and let us out!”

“Just put them down,” the man said.

He was on the verge of springing.

The women backed up
, o
ne step at a time.

The man followed.

Prarie’s heart raced.

THEY WERE AGAINST THE WALL NOW.

“Open a window!” Emmanuelle said.

Prarie felt for a latch but couldn’t find one.

“Just kick it out!”

She did.

The glass shattered.

“Get out! I’ll hold him off!” Emmanuelle said.

“No! I’m not going to leave you.”

“Don’t argue! Just do it!”

Prarie pictured going through. There was jagged glass stuck in the bottom of the pane.

She had shorts on.

She’d be cut
, probably deep
.

Before she could form another thought, the man sprang.

They both slashed at him with their knives.

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Evening

______________

TEFFINGER
LEARNED ONE THING about Hong Kong nightlife fast, namely that appearance and taste counted. In a city where bottom lines ruled, people dressed to impress. The women were models, the men were clean. Fan Rae hadn’t said anything yet about
Teffinger
’s casual attire, but he bought a pricey pair of black pants, and a black shirt, just to keep it that way.

He was nervous about tonight.

He needed to get as much information as he could from the mystery woman without being obvious.

He also needed to do a threesome.

He’d never admit it, but it had him a bit on edge. It would be a new experience. The way he pictured it, he’d kiss one of them, then the other, then feel up one, then the other. How it was supposed to go from there, he didn’t have a clue.

He’d j
ust follow their lead.

That’s the best he could do.

Fan Rae offered to pick him up at the Fleming, but he wanted to show up at her door and knock on it, more like a date, so that’s what he did.

When the door opened,
Teffinger
wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

Fan Rae had taken her beauty to a new level.

She usually wore hardly any makeup, which was a good look for her. But now, with more than usual, her eyes were defined and more mysterious than ever.

Her lips were moist and pink.

She smelled like a flower.

But the best past of all was her dress—expensive, white and short, perfectly framing her ample cleavage.

“You look nice,” he said.

“It’s called a full hour of work.”

“Well, your work worked,” he said. “Does that make sense?”

It did.

She hooked her arm through his.

“I’m horny as hell, cowboy,” she said. “Consider yourself warned.”

THEY TOOK A CAB TO THE DRAGON-I in Central, which turned out to be an already-in-motion DJ-driven party jammed with international jet-setters and the most exclusive local eye-c
andy, v
ery expensive.
A lot of commot
ion was taking place in a roped-
off area by the dance floor. Fan Rae strained to see who is was and shook
Teffinger
’s arm with excitement. “This is so cool. That’s Yuki over there.”

“Which one?”

“Short black dress.”

“The one with the legs?”

“Right.”

“Is she someone?”

Yes.

She was, a
Canto-pop diva.

“I have all her CDs,” Fan Rae said. “I’ll play one for you later. God, I can’t believe she’s actually here in the flesh.”

“I take it you’re a fan.”

“Huge,” she said. “We need drinks.”

Teffinger
handed her a hundred.

“I’m going to run to the restroom,” he said. “Get whatever you want and get a beer for me.”

Then he disappeared into the crowd.

Five minutes later he returned, holding the hand of a woman in a short black dress, with lots of legs. The look on Fan Rae’s face said everything he hoped it would.

“Fan Rae, meet Yuki,” he said. “Yuki, Fan Rae.”

Yuki laughed at the expression on Fan Rae’s face, then kissed her on the mouth and said, “Why don’t you and
Nick
come over and join us?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

The woman grabbed Fan Rae’s hand and pulled. “Stay close to your man,” she said. “A few of the piranhas over there will eat him for breakfast if they get half a chance.”

THE MYSTERY WOMAN from
Hei Yewan
—the one who was going to kill d’Asia—showed up half an hour later, already tipsy, and joined the party.

Fan Rae gave her a big hug and said, “
Teffinger
, Tanna. Tanna,
Nick
.”

The woman looked into
Teffinger
’s eyes.

“You look dangerous,” she said. “Are you a bad boy?”

“Why? Do you like bad boys?”

She unbuttoned his shirt and ran a finger down his chest.

“
Let’s find out
,” she said.