Stone, Katherine (22 page)

When he spoke again, all emotion had left his voice. "Mrs.
Leong will arrange for you to be on tomorrow morning's eleven o'clock flight
for San Francisco."

"I'm sorry, James. But I have an important appointment at
eleven tomorrow—after which I'm going to take more pictures."

"I'm not going to display your work in the Palace, Allison.
The morning papers will carry articles to that effect. As of right now, you're
no longer involved with the hotel."

Or with you, she realized. Even if she stayed in Hong Kong,
everything would be different. To protect her, on the off-chance the vandalism
was connected to him or his hotel, James was severing their professional
relationship. And their personal one? The resolve in his eyes told her that
magic was over.

"You don't have to use any of my pictures, James. But you'll
have them on December 11th, as we agreed. I'm going to honor the commitment I
made to you, just as I'll honor the commitment I made to my publisher."

Allison didn't think he'd heard her.

But he had, because just before leaving to deliver the speech that
had all but been forgotten, he said, very softly, "Please be
careful."

***

After James left, Allison stared at what remained of her two
months in Hong Kong—neatly carved slices of celluloid, nothing more.

Not true.

Allison Parish Whitaker had found her wings. Admittedly, the
discovery had been effortless because of James. Now that he was gone, would she
crash to earth? No. She would not.

She might have cleaned her apartment, then spent the evening
watching the rain-blurred city by herself. It was a night to be alone, to
affirm her solitary strength.

But she couldn't forget Maylene's expression before she
left—uncertain, and almost fearful, as if afraid Allison might have lingering
doubts about her innocence.

When the voice answered on the first ring, she said,
"Maylene? It's Allison. Will you drink tea with me and help me clean
up?"

Peak Castle

Friday, September 3, 1993

"I'
ve just learned something rather distressing," Sir Geoffrey
Lloyd-Ashton said to his wife shortly before leaving for the day. It wasn't yet
eight, but he'd been in his study since six, drinking coffee as he scanned
newspapers from around the world.

"Oh?" Eve prayed there hadn't been mention of a rainy
rendezvous between a flamboyantly dressed mystery woman and Hong Kong's famous
race-car-driver-turned-shipping tycoon.

Whatever the item was, Geoffrey had discovered it in the
South
China Daily Post.
He handed the pertinent page to Eve as he explained,
"There was a break-in at the Trade Winds. Allison Whitaker's
apartment."

"Oh, no. Was she there? Was she hurt?"

"She wasn't there, but apparently all her work was, including
the negatives. Evidently, everything she's done in the past two months was
destroyed."

"But why?"

"My guess is she unwittingly took a picture she shouldn't
have, a clandestine meeting between a triad member and a prominent banker,
something like that."

"She must be devastated."

"I imagine she'll be leaving Hong Kong."

Eve frowned. "Really?"

"I should imagine James would insist on it. In fact, I think
he already has. According to the article, James has decided against using her
photographs for the Jade Palace. Why don't you give her a call, Eve, to say
goodbye."

***

"No, Eve, I'm not leaving! I know the article says I'm no
longer involved with the hotel, but that's just James being cautious, in case
the vandalism was done to protest the fact that he chose a virtual stranger to
take the photographs. I'm going to retrace my steps, making sure I don't accidentally
photograph anyone who doesn't want to be. This batch will be a little rainier,
but that'll just add its own drama."

"So much work, Allison. You told me that as it was you'd be
working almost every day to make the December deadline."

"Now I'll just have to delete the 'almost.' But that's
fine," Allison added cheerily. "I still plan to have time to meet you
for lunch, Eve, and I'm keeping this morning's appointment with Juliana
Kwan."

***

One hour later, two of Hong Kong's most powerful men were in closed-door
meetings in their respective penthouse offices. The purpose of the two meetings
was superficially the same—to hire surveillance experts capable of tracking
their quarry even in the crowds of Hong Kong.

Although being hired for essentially the same task, the experts in
question had quite different credentials. Robert McLaren was an ex-cop, a
detective who'd been forced to retire from the Royal Hong Kong Police following
a gunshot wound. He had a good pension but liked to work, and was making a
comfortable living providing security to Hong Kong's elite.

The other man, John Wu, was a successful businessman. He'd become
modestly wealthy through several lawful enterprises and vastly wealthy through
a number of illegal ones. John Wu commanded a small army of criminals, all of
whom were willing to do his bidding for a price. His soldiers were well-paid,
discreet, and loyal.

"Her name is Allison Whitaker," James told the man who'd
served honorably with the Royal Hong Kong Police.

Robert studied Allison's photograph on the dust cover of
Lone
Star Serenade.
"When we spoke last night, you said you wanted her
watched twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week."

"That's right," James confirmed. "You have a team
of people working for you, don't you?"

"Of course. What kind of written reports do you want? By the
minute? The hour?"

"I don't want any reports. I don't care what she does. I just
want her safe."

"You believe she's still in danger?"

"I honestly don't know. If I had to guess, I suppose I'd say
what happened yesterday was an isolated incident. But since I can't be certain
of that, I want to make sure she's protected at all times."

The instructions given to John Wu were very different. "She
only needs to be followed on Mondays and Thursdays, but on those days I don't
want her out of your sight, not for a second, and I want a detailed accounting
of everything she does."

"No problem, Sir Geoffrey," John Wu assured, concealing
his own smugness. This was easy money. Lady Lloyd-Ashton stuck out like a sore
thumb. She couldn't hide even if she wanted to. He'd give the assignment to his
teenage nephews. It would teach them discipline and patience, because this was
going to be extremely tedious. "Anything else?"

"Yes. I want to know immediately if she goes to the airport, and
if she attempts to board a plane, even a small one, I want her detained."

***

As she was dressing for her appointment with Juliana Kwan, Allison
made a disturbing discovery. Her gown of rainbow sequins had fallen prey to
yesterday's intruder. A casual look into her closet, the kind the police had
undoubtedly made, wouldn't have disclosed the destruction. The gown hung on its
hanger, and in its motionlessness appeared intact. Once it was touched, the
damage was clear. The ivory silk was slashed as her photographs had been, in
thin perfect strips.

Allison swept her hands through the closet in search of other
victims. There were none. That gown had been singled out.

It made no sense. What possible connection could there be between
the Pearl Moon evening gown purchased in Dallas and the photographs taken in
Hong Kong?

None. The vandal must have hidden until the maid left, and while
waiting he'd amused himself by making neat, silent slices through silk.

The mystery was solved.

Or so she thought.

***

In June, when Mrs. Leong put her in touch with Susan Kwan of the
Hong Kong Tourist Association, Allison already knew Kwan was a common Hong Kong
surname. Still, she'd wondered if Susan and Maylene might be related. By
September, she'd encountered so many Kwans that when Eve told her Pearl Moon's
designer was Juliana Kwan, the possibility that Juliana might be related to
Maylene didn't even cross her mind.

But within moments of meeting Juliana, Allison knew she'd met
Maylene's mother. It was a knowledge of the heart; it couldn't be anything
else. Despite the beauty of both mother and daughter, they didn't look a bit
alike.

Then how could she be so sure? Because of the way Juliana looked
at
her,
with a mother's love, as if Allison was the long-lost daughter
with whom she hoped to reconcile. The look was for Maylene, the Jade Palace
architect who—of course—the Jade Palace photographer would know.

Juliana wanted a reunion with Maylene. Allison had no doubt of
that. She was uncertain how to go about it and hopeful that Allison could help.

The girl who'd spent her entire life missing her mother knew that
Juliana's maternal gaze was for Maylene, not for her. But Allison felt its
embracing warmth as they discussed the gown Juliana would make her for New
Year's Eve.

The warmth lingered after she left the boutique—until, quite
suddenly, she felt very cold. The chill came from within as she recalled the
events of the past two days.

On Wednesday, Maylene had confessed to feeling so emotionally raw
she felt a compulsion to destroy. She'd come very close, she admitted, to
shredding two weeks' worth of blueprints. She'd also spoken on Wednesday night
of the mother from whom she was irrevocably estranged.

On Thursday, Allison's photographs were destroyed,
shredded,
as
was the gown designed by Juliana. That same evening, Allison had learned
Maylene had opposed her selection as the photographer for the Jade Palace.

Was Maylene responsible, after all?

If so, it was because she was terribly—desperately—sad. With
reason, Allison decided. She'd been abandoned by her father, and was estranged
from her mother, and, fearful of more rejection, was afraid to approach the
sister she'd never met.

Maylene needed a friend. I
am
that friend, Allison vowed.
No matter what. I can't do anything about Maylene's father or sister. But I
can—and will—find a way to reunite Maylene with the mother who misses her so
much.

***

"Good evening. I'm Cynthia Andrews. Welcome to
Newsmaker
Interview.
My guest tonight is Juliana Kwan."

Maylene spun in the direction of the television. She'd been
getting ready for bed, listening to the eleven o'clock news.

As Cynthia Andrews provided a brief biographical sketch of Juliana
Kwan—Hong Kong native, renowned fashion designer, outspoken advocate for swift
democratization of the territory—Maylene stared at the image on the screen.

She'd forgotten her mother's delicacy. Juliana looked like a
porcelain doll, fragile and proud, her back straight, her hands folded, her
slender legs crossed demurely at her ankles. Her dark blue suit artfully
blended understated elegance and daring style. Maylene owned the same suit in
both lavender and flame. In London, where there wasn't a chance of Juliana
learning of her daughter's foolish sentimentality, Maylene always wore Pearl
Moon.

When Cynthia's introduction was finished, she turned from the
camera to her guest. "Many of Hong Kong's most powerful business people
oppose Governor Patten's attempts to bring democracy to Hong Kong more quickly
than is prescribed in the Basic Law. You, however, feel the governor's
proposals aren't aggressive enough. Is that correct?"

"That's a correct representation of how I feel," Juliana
replied. "I'd dispute your assertion that many of Hong Kong's most
powerful oppose the governor."

"Why don't I speak specifically then? Sir Geoffrey Lloyd
Ashton, Hong Kong's most powerful citizen, is outspoken in his
opposition."

"Yes, he is. But there are others, such as James Drake and
Tyler Vaughn, who've been equally outspoken in their support."

"True," Cynthia conceded. "But they've been labeled
as idealists."

"But we
should
aspire to the ideal for Hong Kong,
shouldn't we?"

"Are you saying those who stand in opposition to rapid
democratization don't care about Hong Kong?"

"I'm saying their reluctance to provoke Beijing is motivated
by self-interest, not by a commitment to Hong Kong— because, in general, they
aren't permanent residents of Hong Kong. They're ex-patriates, or possess full
British passports, not second-class ones. As such, they are free to leave
whenever they wish and take their families and businesses with them. Moreover,
many already have substantial investments in China and will profit immensely if
the relationship with Beijing remains friendly. Such people will survive
without democracy, Miss Andrews, but Hong Kong itself cannot."

Cynthia Andrews was obviously delighted that her demure guest was
so deliciously outspoken. Hoping for more dangerous revelations, she said,
"The Basic Law provides for universal suffrage by the year 2007, as well
as for the rule of law, freedom of the press, an independent judiciary and one
country with two systems. This is a written agreement between Britain and
China. Are you saying you don't trust it?"

"I'm saying the sooner we bring full democracy to Hong Kong,
the safer it will be for everyone."

"I've heard you're planning to run for a seat in the
Legislative Council in the next election. Is that right?"

"That is my plan."

"Some people have suggested that Beijing will not permit anyone
who's been outspoken against the provisions of the Basic Law to serve on LegCo
after the turnover in 1997. There's even been a suggestion that such people,
like yourself, will be labeled counterrevolutionaries."

"And thrown into prison for their free speech? That doesn't
sound like a government that respects democracy, does it?"

Cynthia Andrews didn't have to answer Juliana's question. The time
allotted for the
Newsmaker
interview was over. "I'm afraid that's
all the time we have tonight. Next Friday I'll be speaking with Sir Geoffrey
Lloyd-Ashton who, as has already been mentioned, holds an entirely different
view from the one just expressed by Miss Kwan."

The television image of Juliana vanished, but her mother stayed in
Maylene's thoughts. The girl who'd rescued herself from the sea was alive
within Juliana, clinging to lofty ideals as tenaciously as she'd clung to the
plank of
Pearl Moon
during the raging typhoon. Juliana had always been a
dreamer. She had, after all, spun a sordid affair with a sailor into a tale of
never-ending love.

Long ago, Maylene had mocked her romantic mother. Now her mind's
eye envisioned a family of freedom fighters—mother, father, two sisters—united
by love as they fought for a future Hong Kong that continued to glitter
brightly.

She'd been so cruel to her mother. Juliana must have been
tremendously relieved when she'd left. Just look how much she'd accomplished
without her spiteful daughter.