Last Resort (47 page)

After slamming down the receiver David walked across the apartment, pushed open the french windows and

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stepped out into the raging wind. The storm was reaching its peak and as the waves crashed over the beach, flinging themselves menacingly against the sea wall, driving rods of rain ricocheted up from the street. It was the middle of the day, but behind him the main lights in the apartment were on and a desk lamp glowed in a meaningful circle over the stack of papers scattered on the table.

His face was pale with tiredness, his temper as foul as the weather, but if he was going to deal with this rationally he had to take charge of himself.

Whichever direction he took now was likely to be as disastrous as the next and it was going to take every ounce of skill he had to get them all through it.

He'd meant it when he'd told Pierre there was no more they could do for Penny, but it had been in the heat of the moment and deep down he knew that he was going to help her whether she wanted it or not. He'd already gone much further down that road than even Pierre knew, because despite what Pierre had told him he was convinced Penny did want his help. Whether she was too proud or even ashamed to ask, or was never alone long enough to make the call, he had no idea. But one thing he was sure of was that, damned hot-headed and impulsive as she could be, she certainly wasn't stupid. She'd have worked out for herself by now that Mureau was still dealing heroin and that was something David knew she would find as abhorrent as he did. Whether or not she'd discovered who was behind Mureau he had no way of knowing. A part of him hoped she hadn't, for, unless Mureau started behaving himself with those Chinese thugs he was involved with, Penny could very well, out of sheer ignorance, end up putting herself in even more danger than she was already in. But if she did know and she was as scared as she should be to discover that she was a weapon the Triads could point at Mureau's head, then he could only pray that Mureau 364

really did care for her as much as he had managed to convince everyone he did.

If he did he'd surely do everything in his power to protect her, which on the face of it he was, by having Tse Dong and Lei Leen go everywhere with her.

Both were trained killers and both were as loyal to Christian as Pierre was to him.

Be that as it may, the sensible thing for Mureau to do now, after those warning shots across his bows, was to get Penny out of Hong Kong pretty damned quick. David didn't want to underestimate Penny, but faced with what she was now she couldn't be expected to think rationally enough to use what influence she had to persuade Mureau into leaving. He just hoped to God she didn't try to escape alone - if she did, she would very soon discover what it was to long for death. He dismissed the thought quickly, seeing no point in trying to deal with an eventuality that was a worst-case scenario, for with any luck Penny would stay put with Mureau until he, David, could get himself over there.

Walking back into the apartment he went to the table and stared down at the paperwork. Rain trickled from his hair and dripped on to his collar. He knew what he had to do now, but doing it was another thing altogether. This was a cruel and bitter hand fate had dealt him and he could but hope that Mureau hadn't managed to exert the same kind of influence over Penny as he had over Gabriella. If he had, then God only knew where all this would end. But for the moment he was going to ignore that possibility for the simple reason that, whatever else Penny thrived on, he knew it was certainly neither revenge nor greed.

He smiled grimly to himself as he picked up the phone and dialled Stirling's number. Throughout all this he'd never dreamt that he'd end up turning to Stirling for help. There was no guarantee he would get it, of course; in fact, there was every likelihood he wouldn't. But it was his last shot: he could go no further without

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Stirling's influence to assist him and the only way he was going to get that was to give Stirling what he wanted.

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Chapter 19

Ever since they had flown in over the flooded rice fields on the outskirts of Manila Penny had been trying to find the words to tell Christian she wanted to go home. There were moments when she wondered if he sensed what was in her mind, for the way he so often spoke over her as though afraid of what she was going to say or held her to him as though to crush her with his love seemed like the acts of a frightened, almost desperate man. And there was a hollowness to his laughter as he tried to engage her enthusiasm for their future, telling her of all the things they would see and do in even more remote and far-off places than they were now. He was trying so hard to make her smile, was almost beside himself in his attempts to convince her how happy they were going to be, that she simply couldn't find it in her to destroy his illusion.

Persuading him to leave Hong Kong had been much easier than she'd expected, for he'd seemed as keen to get away as she was, but getting him to admit he was still dealing in drugs hadn't proved so successful. He'd appeared genuinely astonished when she'd asked him about the three-figure numbers and if they meant what she suspected they did.

"The Chinese mafia?"

he'd said incredulously.

Penny nodded.

"It's how they identify themselves and. virtually every number I've heard mentioned since we

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I

got here has been a three-figure number divisible by three."

He'd shaken his head, his eyes clouded by confusion as he thought back over the meetings that had taken place while she was there.

Tour two three,"

she told him.

"Four five six. Four four one."

He had put a hand to his head, still thinking, then finally he'd started to laugh.

"I don't know what those numbers have to do with the Hong Kong Triads/ he said.

"I've never even heard of this divisible-by-three thing. It could be that you're right, but in this instance, cherie, they're the tonnage of the marijuana shipments we sent over to the States."

Of course it was possible, but the coincidence was too great and though she made a pretence of believing him, in her heart she remained convinced she was right. She hadn't pushed it, though, for a sixth sense told her that the less she knew the safer she would be. She couldn't quite qualify the feeling, but she was pretty certain that if the people he was dealing with ever got wind of the fact that she knew more than she should her life would be in serious jeopardy. And Christian's eagerness to get her out of Hong Kong after the shooting in Mongkok only heightened her fears that it already was.

They'd flown out on a private plane the morning after the shooting, travelling under false passports again, this time in the names of Paul and Gillian Anderson. Tse Dong and Lei Leen had stayed behind and for the time being she and Christian appeared to be alone in Manila. Not that the phone calls had stopped, if anything they were even more frequent than before - and always in Cantonese, so Penny still had no idea what they were about.

They were staying at the grand old turn-of-the-century Manila Hotel, not in a suite this time, but in a spacious double room with a clear view of the harbour. This

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attempt to blend less noticeably with the other guests, coupled with Christian's evident unhappiness and unease, was enough to tell Penny that the need for anonymity was growing. Whether this was because the DEA was closing in on him, or whether it had something to do with the Chinese, she didn't know, but what she did know was how deeply it was affecting her to see him looking so vulnerable and lonely.

They had left the hotel an hour ago, crossing the busy intersection of Bonifacio and Ayala Boulevards, where brightly coloured jeepnies crammed with solemn-faced passengers vied for space with beaten-up American cars and glossy white hotel taxis. They'd strolled around the Intramuros, watching Filipino schoolchildren in their smart, checkered uniforms explore the ruins of the old Spanish fort and romp excitedly around the Wall of Martyrs picnic ground, feigning executions and bloody, agonized deaths. With his smattering of Tagalog Christian had joined in the fun, allowing himself to be shot, but only after delighting them by falling to his knees and reciting a few badly memorized lines from Jose Rizal's Noli me tangere. As she watched him Penny smiled and laughed and fought back the tears of guilt at not loving him enough. How much less complicated things would be if she could despise him for the crimes he had committed, but life was rarely, if ever, that simple and she knew that despite everything he would always hold a very special place in her heart.

The children had caught up with them again as they'd roamed Rizal's shrine at the heart of the fort, but Penny had seen what an effort it was for Christian to resummon his earlier light-heartedness. It would have been easy to put his increasing depression down to the morbid exhibits in Rizal's house - the national hero's discarded pens, his sister's letters, the echoing emptiness of the room in which the great man had spent his final days 369

before execution - but Penny knew there was much more to it.

As they left the fort and wandered through the pitted, dusty streets to Rizal Park it was left to her to turn down the bicycle and sidecar rides, to tip the beggars and smile at the sweet Filipino faces that watched them pass. She could sense him withdrawing deeper and deeper into himself, as though he was closing her out, preparing himself for the moment she left, when he would be forced to face the aimlessness and futility of his lonely existence. She ached with pity and wished she could find the words to comfort him, but what could she say? Besides, she wasn't such an egoist as to believe that it was she alone who was causing this despair, for something was happening, something that she was sure went far beyond his fear of her leaving.

"Christian, speak to me,"

she said, sliding her hand into his as they strolled into the exotic tranquillity of the Chinese Gardens. Tell me what's troubling you."

She guessed she probably wouldn't want to hear the answers, but she just couldn't bear to see him suffering

like this.

Squeezing her hand, he looked down at the clustered lily pads meandering languidly over the dark, rippling water. Then he turned to walk on, leading the way across the footbridge towards the ornate, colourful gazebos with their tall red pillars and curled roof edges. With the exception of an old man sleeping peacefully in the shade of a flowering magnolia they were alone in the garden.

"Christian?"

she prompted.

Letting go of her hand, he walked on, wandering up the wide, terracotta steps into the welcoming coolness of

a gazebo.

"Don't you find it beautiful here?"

he said, as she came to join him.

"It's so peaceful and ..."

he turned to look at her, a hesitant tease lighting his eyes

"... and romantic?"

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he said.

"Very/ she smiled.

Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her forehead, then laid her head on his shoulder.

"I love you/ he whispered, holding her tightly.

She stood quietly in the embrace, listening to his heartbeat and trying to find her way through the impossible tangle of her emotions.

Eventually he let her go and turned to look around.

"Christian, what is it?"

she said, putting a hand on his arm.

He was staring past her, his eyes unfocused and steeped in anguish.

"Will you marry me?"

he said softly, still not looking at her.

Penny felt herself tense as her heart contracted and her eyes closed against the terrible realization that she was wrong, he wasn't preparing himself to let her go at all.

Hearing footsteps, they both turned and watched a young man with a camera approach. He took several shots of the gazebo; then, coming inside, he seemed surprised to find someone there even though he must surely have seen them when he was pointing his camera in their direction.

When he spoke, Penny wasn't too sure whether or not it was English, for his accent was too thick, but from his gestures it was evident he was asking if he could take their picture.

Smiling, Christian looked down at her.

"What do you say?"

he said.

Penny shrugged.

"Why not?"

At the time it didn't seem odd to her that a shabbily dressed, badly nourished Filipino youth should possess such an expensive-looking camera; nor that Christian, who was a fugitive from the law, should so readily agree to his photograph being taken by a stranger. In truth she barely thought about it at all as she smiled into the lens, grateful for the timely interruption.

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When the boy had finished, he thanked them, shook their hands and walked away.

But once again Penny was saved from answering, this time by Christian's mobile phone.

As he spoke he walked out of the gazebo, though whether to prevent her from listening or to improve the connection was impossible to say. By the time he'd finished, Penny could see the change in him. Putting the phone back inside his shirt pocket, he bounded up the steps, grabbed her hand and ran with her to the gates.

"What is it?"

she cried, having to shout to make herself heard above the roar of the traffic.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to the hotel/ he answered, plunging into the interminable stream of vehicles and weaving a path to the

other side.

When they reached the hotel lobby he stopped, turned her to face him and spoke quickly, his words shortened by his breathlessness.

"That was the call I've been waiting for,"

he said, his eyes shining with an emotion she found impossible to fathom.

"I have to go out now. I won't be long. I'll explain everything when I get back."

"But where are you going?"

"Not far/ he answered.

"I want you to go up to the room and wait for me there. Lock yourself in and don't answer the door to anyone. Don't answer the phone either. And ..."

He stopped, swallowed hard and as his eyes flooded with pain, he said,