The Red Pole of Macau (10 page)

“What’s wrong with my makeup?”

“It makes you look five years older. You have beautiful skin; you don’t need that guck.”

“God, what next, ditch my padded bra?”

“Actually, if you have one with even more padding, throw it on.”

“Are you serious?”

“Not really,” Ava said, kissing her on the cheek. “See you in the morning.”

Ava walked back to the hotel, glad to be alone. The day had started with her drafting an offer sheet to help them save their business; it was going to end with her trying to figure out how to keep Simon To alive.

She went to bed early and slept well. She had
placed a wake-up call for six, and by six forty-five she had had two coffees, read the
International Herald Tribune
, and was on the
mtr
to the Causeway Bay station and Victoria Park.

She got there just early enough to get in five quick laps before the morning crowd arrived to clog the jogging track. She took that as a good omen.

The night before she’d figured out how to structure the day; the only thing she hadn’t done was organize a car rental. She stopped at the front desk on the return from her run and asked the concierge to make the arrangements.

She showered and put on a black T-shirt and her training pants and jacket. She normally didn’t wear a hat, but she knew she could be out in the sun for most of the day, and took her Adidas baseball cap out of her bag. She didn’t want to lug around her Chanel purse or her notebook, so she ripped out some pages and put them in her jacket pocket with two pens. Her passport, Hong Kong ID card, driver’s licence, and a wad of U.S. hundred-dollar bills went into the other pocket.

She looked at herself in the mirror.
No beauty queen
, she thought.

Ava ate breakfast downstairs at Café Causette. She ordered plain black coffee and congee with abalone and read the
South China Morning Post
. She paid special attention to the front page. Hopefully it would be popping up on Michael’s computer screen at noon.

At the terminal she first saw the two boys off to the side, standing close together, smoking as if their lives depended on it. Carlo was the bigger of the two at about five foot six and 140 pounds; Andy was an inch shorter and ten pounds lighter. The last time she had seen Carlo he had a moustache; now his upper lip was as bare as his shaved head. They were wearing T-shirts, and Ava kicked herself for not telling them to wear long-sleeved shirts. Both of Andy’s arms were covered in tattoos; Carlo had only one arm decorated, but a dragon’s tail wrapped itself around his collarbone and neck. Ava had never seen the actual dragon’s head that she knew was situated somewhere on his chest.

They waved, greeting her less formally than at their last meeting, in Las Vegas. They were on their home turf and not so nervous. Andy had a carryall with him.

Amanda was at the gate that led to the ferry gangplank. She was wearing flat shoes, white linen slacks, and an unadorned navy blue silk blouse that still looked as if it had cost two thousand Hong Kong dollars. She held a Louis Vuitton briefcase that wasn’t much bigger than a sheet of paper.
The girl couldn’t look middle-class if she tried
, Ava thought.

With her baseball cap on, Ava got to within five metres of Amanda before she was recognized. “Hey,” Amanda said, suddenly awkward as she took in Ava’s clothes.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Am I overdressed?”

“No, you’re perfect,” Ava said. “Now come and meet Carlo and Andy.”

Amanda’s reaction when she saw the boys wasn’t much different from Ava’s the first time a gun was waved in her face.

“This is Amanda. She’s my brother’s fiancée,” Ava said, emphasizing the relationship particularly to Carlo, who fancied himself a ladies’ man and was always prepared to give it a go, regardless of the likelihood of rejection. “And these are Carlo and Andy,” she said to Amanda. “They’ve worked with me before, and I trust them with my life.”

The boys smiled at the compliment. Amanda looked a little less uneasy but stayed close to Ava.

Ava bought tickets with an open return, and they hustled down the corridor to catch the ten-fifteen jetfoil. She told the boys to sit in a separate row, as she wanted to talk to Amanda. As always, they did what was asked and took no offence.

“So, how’s Michael?” Ava began. Amanda seemed distracted, her attention still on the boys. “Hey, get over it,” Ava said. “Everyone does silly things when they’re young. They have tattoos but they’re good guys; they don’t bite.”

“Sorry, it was just a bit of a shock. I mean, I wasn’t expecting anyone else.”

“Well, there they are, so get used to them. Besides, you won’t be spending much time with them anyway,” Ava said. “Now, about Michael?”

“He was suspicious as anything this morning.”

“You didn’t tell him you were going to Macau, did you?”

“No, of course not. I told him I had a meeting in Aberdeen, and I even called my office and gave them the same story in case he calls for me there. But I was still a bit jumpy. And I usually leave for work earlier and I don’t normally wear this kind of shoes, and of course there’s the makeup.”

“Looks good, by the way. I mean, less makeup.”

“Thanks. Michael actually said the same thing.”

“How is his mood?”

“He seemed pleased enough when I told him about the meeting with Jessie last night. I know he was worried about her.”

“Did you tell him about Marcus?”

“I did. No problem — he doesn’t feel like telling him anything anyway.”

“And he’s going to check his computer at noon for the photo?”

“He said he would, and I told him to call you when it arrived.”

“Did he ask you what I was doing today?”

“I said you were trying to organize the money and that you’d be calling him later.”

“Good, that’s just about right,” Ava said.

Amanda tensed, and Ava knew something was bothering her. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I didn’t really know how much money was involved until last night. I mean, it never came up in any discussion. When Michael told me I almost fell over.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have it under control.”

Amanda seemed to be gathering herself to ask more questions, but Ava cut her off. “Did you call Jessie this morning?”

“No, but I called her last night at ten o’clock and we chatted for about ten minutes. She was a bit anxious at first, but I repeated what I’d said earlier and it seemed to work. I told her I’d call her every day at one and every night at ten.”

“Structure gives comfort,” Ava said.

“So I’m realizing.”

“Now today is going to be a bit unstructured, unfortunately, but I think you’re up to it.”

“What are we going to be doing?”

“Not we — you,” Ava said. “I have some things to do with Andy. Carlo has a project of his own and you have your own job.”

“Alone?” Amanda said.

“Relax, I don’t want you to rob a bank or anything.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper on which she’d written the address of the house in Coloane and the address of the Macau land registry office. “This is where Kao Lok lives. I need you to go to the registry office and ask to see the actual registration documents. It isn’t an uncommon request; real estate agents do it all the time. If they question you, just tell them you’re thinking of making an offer on the property and you want to confirm some particulars.

“When you get the documents, there should be a reference to an architect, maybe an engineering firm, and for sure a construction company. The house was custom-built and that information should be on record. Write it down. If all three names are available, then contact the architect’s office first, if it’s in Macau, and arrange to go see them. If it isn’t in Macau, go after the construction company.

“What I want are the floor plans for the house. Tell them you saw the house and loved it and that you want to build one just like it, but your husband wants to see more details. If you get to the architect first, tell him that your husband might want to make some changes, and ask him if he’d be prepared to work with you on the project. If it’s the construction company, ask them if they could build a duplicate for you,” Ava said. “And that’s it. That’s your job for today, to get me those floor plans.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I don’t think it’s that hard.”

“What if they say no?”

“Amanda, there is no
no
. Tell them whatever the hell you have to tell them. Use all that natural charm you have and never accept the word
no
. If they seem reluctant, come at them from a different direction. Use your imagination, girl. And here,” Ava said, pulling something from her other pocket, “is one thousand U.S. dollars. That should be the last resort, but if you have to, use them.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything like this,” she said slowly.

“What did you think, that we’re going to Macau for dim sum?”

“I’m not that thick.”

Ava realized she was pushing a bit too hard. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be insulting.”

“Will those people really give me this information?”

“Why not? The story is believable, and if you act as if you believe it and there’s something in it for them, why wouldn’t they give you some long-forgotten floor plans?”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Good. Now get your game face on while I go and talk to the boys.”

Ava stood to leave, only to have Amanda reach up and grasp her arm. “Ava, why do you need the floor plans, though?”

“Remember what I told you yesterday: one thing at a time. That’s what we’re doing, all of us here today — one thing at a time, not getting ahead of ourselves. So just go get me those floor plans.”

It took less than five minutes to brief Carlo and Andy, and when she was done there were no questions.

When the jetfoil pulled into Macau, Ava held back her group until the swarm of gamblers desperate to give their money away had rushed towards the immigration desks. Andy got stopped at Customs, the officer looking into his carryall at the binoculars and camera, and then waving him through.

“We’re leaving you here,” Ava said to Carlo and Amanda. “We have to rent a car. You two take separate taxis. Keep in touch by cell.”

Carlo nodded and left. Amanda hesitated.

“Scat — you’ll do just fine,” Ava said, and then turned and walked to the car rental kiosk with Andy in tow.

She wanted something bland and had booked a Toyota Corolla, its only frill a GPS. She typed in Lok’s address. The system told her it was twenty-five minutes away, about as long a drive as you could make in Macau.

The system took her over the Friendship Bridge, bypassing the town, onto Avenue Dr. Sun Yat Sen and then onto the Taipa–Coloane Causeway. On her right, the casino complex on the Cotai strip dominated the skyline. She drove south and then cut west past rows of apartment buildings interspersed with strip malls. They skirted Coloane Village and found themselves in rocky, rugged forested country that Ava hadn’t known even existed. Their route followed the shoreline, the sea crashing onto rocks about a hundred metres below. They passed signs for Seac Pai Van Park, and the GPS indicated they were getting close. Then they turned off the main road onto a broad dirt track and started downhill. At the bottom the track veered to the right, and as Ava took the turn the house came into view.

It was, she figured, two hundred metres between her car and the gate to the house — nothing but empty space, a huge dirt courtyard. She stopped the car just short of the clearing. The house was completely isolated, set back against a rock outcropping, with a stand of trees to its right and a mountain face to its left. It was surrounded entirely by a brick wall that had to be five metres high, topped by thin strands of wire; the only visible entrance was the gate, which was made of decorative heavy-duty stainless steel crowned with rolls of razor wire. Her sightline was unimpeded. If she went any farther the car would surely be seen.

She backed up until the house disappeared from view, and then climbed out. Andy joined her. “We need to find a place where we can get a good secure, uninterrupted look at that house,” she said.

“There,” Andy said, pointing at the horizon.

Ava looked and saw a statue soaring into the sky.

“That’s A-Ma, the goddess of fishermen,” he said. “She’s standing on top of Coloane Peak. It’s a public park. I think we could see the house clearly from the top of the peak, and we could stay there as long as we wanted without raising any questions.”

“How do you know that stuff?” she asked.

“My father was a fisherman, and like I said, A-Ma is their goddess. When we were kids, he brought us here every year to pay homage, to pray for good catches and a safe return from the sea.”

“How do we get up there?”

“Go back to the main road and head in the direction we were going before we turned off.”

“Your father was actually a fisherman?” Ava asked as they got back into the car.

“Yeah. Then he drowned.”

If anyone but Andy had told her that, she might not have believed them. “I’m sorry,” she said.

They had driven less than a metre along the main road when the first sign appeared for Alto de Coloane Park. Ava turned left and then drove uphill for about two hundred metres. The road ended abruptly and she found herself in a large parking lot, occupied mainly by tourist buses. She pulled into an empty space.

Andy pointed to an exit and said, “We can get to the peak through there.”

They began the climb to the A-Ma statue, the surrounding
countryside opening up to them with every step. There was a crowd at the top, most of them looking out towards the sea. Ava’s interest was in the opposite direction, inland, and she and Andy had that side of the statue to themselves.

She held out her hand and he gave her the binoculars. Ava began to scan in the general direction of the house. When she found it, she was almost able to see through individual windows. “These binoculars are incredible. Where did you get them?” she asked, her eyes not leaving her target.

“A friend who’s a birdwatcher,” Andy said. “Female birds, the kind that like to undress in apartments that don’t have curtains.”

“These would be perfect for that.”

“So he says.”

She zoomed out, trying to get a broader view of the house. There was a main building three storeys high and twenty metres across. It sat at least a hundred metres back from the gate, across a space that was entirely paved in concrete. The building surprised her. She would have expected something traditionally Chinese, but this was a grey stone-block structure. The red tile roof was its only attractive feature. It was built for function, not form, right down to the security cameras she could see bolted into the stone just below the eaves. To the left of the main structure was a one-storey wing with no windows and no visible doors. On the right was a garage, built for six cars. Three vehicles were parked out front: a BMW, a Nissan Pathfinder, and a white van.