Casanova (15 page)

‘He was silent,’ I said.

She shrugged.

‘Did you know he was there?’

‘Did you see him?’ she asked.

‘No, he was...he had already reached you.’

She shrugged again.

‘You move so fast,’ I said. I remembered Tenerife and the speed at which she had entered the villa.

She remained silent. She completed the unbuttoning, wriggled free and pulled her jeans off. Her knickers matched her bra. She found her wash bag.

‘I heard him,’ she said. ‘I’m not a witch or the Devil.’ She went into the bathroom and closed the door.

I decided to call Superintendent Hannah Foley. Then I remembered it was the middle of the night in London. Little Miss Marple would have to wait.

I thought of Charlotte asleep in her Swiss ski lodge. I had been too optimistic. Her Christmas prediction had all the identification marks of experience.

Xing reappeared through the steam like the magician’s assistant, wrapped in two big white towels. One was around her body and the other around her hair.

‘Have you used my towel?’ I said.

She didn’t reply. She stared at me. She massaged her hair through what was almost certainly my towel.

I undressed just as she had done.

‘I’m going for a shower,’ I said. I headed for the steam room.

‘Wait,’ she said. I turned back. ‘Don’t you want your towel?’ She left the one around her hair and pulled off the other one. She threw it at me. I caught it. She moved her hips and continued to rub her hair. I went into the bathroom. I left the door ajar.

The fierce jets of hot water dissolved the dirt like a pressure washer. I tried to banish the image of Xing’s naked body. It was impossible. Perhaps she was a witch.

I came out with the towel wrapped around my waist. Xing still had the other one wrapped around her hair. She was sitting on the bed.

‘I’m used to the waiting,’ she said. ‘What are you like at the waiting?’ I must have given her a blank expression because she chose to explain.

‘With every job there’s always the waiting, waiting for something to happen, for someone else to do something. It was hard at first, but I’m better at it now.’

I knew exactly what she meant. Soldiers in my unit called it
graveyard time,
the hours of motionless and silent waiting. As she said, it can be the hardest part.

‘Nobody likes the waiting,’ I said, ‘but patience is valuable and necessary.’

‘What shall we do while we wait?’ she said.

I pulled away the towel. She openly assessed my body. ‘Do you think we’ll ever be lovers?’ she asked.

‘Don’t you have a spell for that?’ I said.

‘I told you, I’m not a witch.’

I took a couple of steps towards her. She lifted her face. ‘Nothing can happen between us until this is over,’ I said. ‘If we’re both still alive, then...’ I let the thought hang.

‘We’ll both be still alive,’ she said, ‘and I’ll have ten million pounds. How will I know you really love me?’

‘...because you’ve got great tits,’ I said.

She laughed and pushed them forward.

‘Yes, I do,’ she said.

We were both naked, close enough to touch and yet we resisted. We were testing each other. We were testing our patience, our discipline, our resolve and our relationship. We passed the test.

I expected we would live. I never expect anything else—I can’t. Whether we would ever be lovers though, was different, but I was happy to consider a conversion to the faith.

13

WEDNESDAY, 07:00—09:10 (local time)

BARTHOLOMEW WELLINGTON MERIWETHER

‘Good morning, sir,’ said the valet. He finished opening the bedroom curtains. Outside, the light was gently strengthening despite the heavy winter sky. St. James’s Square in the West End of London was peaceful. A nightingale was performing a final aria before breakfast.

Meriwether sat up.

‘Your tea, sir...,’ said the valet.

Meriwether took the offered cup and saucer. ‘Thank you, Parsons,’ he said.

‘...and your laptop, sir,’ Parsons said. The valet positioned the computer on the bed. Meriwether focused on the screen and began working his finger. ‘Will that be all, sir?’

Meriwether glanced up. ‘Yes, thank you, Parsons,’ he said. ‘That will be all.’ Parsons made it as far as the door. ‘Oh, Parsons,’ Meriwether said.

Parsons turned back. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.

‘I’m expecting a guest for breakfast.’ Parsons waited. ‘Kippers, I think,’ said Meriwether. ‘Yes, definitely kippers.’

‘Very good, sir,’ Parsons said. ‘I’ll run your bath, sir.’

Meriwether opened the document. It was the preliminary report from the HK office. He read the contents. They were sparse. The intelligence they had on Missouri was sketchy. He closed the document and then sipped his tea while he considered. He sent a copy to both K106s. They would need more but it was a start.

At the breakfast table, Parsons poured the tea from a white china teapot. The kippers were just right, not too dry. It is all too easy to overcook fish. Meriwether rested his silver fish cutlery on his plate. He popped a thin piece of buttered toast into his mouth and chewed slowly. His guest was enjoying the kippers, he could tell. He expected they often had them at the FO [
FO: Foreign Office
]. Old school pals knew these things about one another.

‘I thought you should know,’ Meriwether said.

Meriwether’s breakfast guest peered through his thick spectacles as if trying to read a restaurant menu by candlelight.

‘Hong Kong,’ he repeated.

‘...or Macau,’ Meriwether said, ‘I’m not sure yet which.’

‘I see; can you give me a little more detail?’

‘Unfortunately, I can’t, not at this stage.’

‘The FO won’t like it, they never do; they never like anything you do.’

‘I thought you were the FO,’ Meriwether said.

‘It’s not a bloody dictatorship you know. There are rules. You never liked rules, even at school.’

‘It’s important,’ Meriwether said.

‘Yes, it always is. You’ve got too much money and too many indulgent friends, but one day you’ll go too far.’

In the entrance hall, Meriwether smiled. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said.

His old school pal from the FO showed indignant respect.

‘Well at least I provided a good breakfast,’ Meriwether said.

‘I don’t like kippers,’ the man replied.

14

WEDNESDAY, 20:00—21:00 (local time)

We left the hotel together.

After dressing and deciding that neither of us wanted to sit around and wait, Xing suggested we begin gathering some intelligence ourselves. She made a call and arranged a meeting.

‘Can you trust this man?’

‘He’s a Blue Lantern. He works as a donkey for the triads. He fetches and carries like a pack animal. He’s not a triad member but I don’t know of any reason not to trust him. He has contacts in Macau, that’s why Missouri used him.’

‘Okay, but when we get there we’ll split up. You show yourself and I’ll stay hidden. Just in case,’ I said.

‘My own personal bodyguard,’ she said. ‘I’m a lucky girl.’

A swirling breeze had cleared the smog. Visibility was more like Owl and less like Mole. We took a tram. The electric driven bus clacked and buzzed through the crowded streets. We sat on the top deck like tourists and gazed through the open windows at the city.

‘Do you like Hong Kong?’ Xing asked.

‘It’s just how I imagined,’ I said.

We were only on the tram for a few minutes. ‘This is Causeway Bay,’ Xing said. The street felt like a cavern. Towering buildings that hid the light stood like sentries. ‘It’s not far,’ she said. We walked together. The sentinels cleared and I saw the trees and the grass.

‘You go ahead,’ I said. ‘I’ll follow.’

Xing nodded once. She walked to the pathway. I waited and then I trailed her. She kept to the edge of the park. I scanned the area and studied the people. I watched ahead and I watched behind. The pathway split. Xing went towards the water. The manmade pond was the rendezvous point. I skirted to the south so the light was behind me. Xing stopped. She looked into the water. I moved closer. A man wearing a baseball cap and a bright puffer jacket appeared. I automatically gripped the Glock under my coat. The man stopped beside Xing. Neither of them turned. Xing had given me a description. It was her contact. I knew she was safe with him; he was no match for her. He wasn’t the danger. My concern was whether he had brought a friend. I kept moving and remained alert. I glanced at Xing. They were talking. Then they began to walk. They strolled around the pond. They completed one circuit. The man walked away. Xing looked up. She walked towards me. It was then that I saw him. He appeared alongside the building beyond the wall and the rise to a neat row of bushes. I watched him. He strode out with his hands clasped behind his back and his head up. Xing reached me. She saw the direction of my gaze.

‘What is it?’ she said.

‘We have a visitor,’ I said.

Once again, she treated me to a display of her incredible speed. She spun, dipped and pulled the Glock. It happened in a blur. For a split second, I thought she was going to shoot. Fortunately, her focus and recognition was as fast as her draw. She lowered the Glock and straightened her stance. The man had frozen. His face had turned whiter than his shirt. It was Jonathan Puddles.

‘I was asked to keep an eye on you,’ he said. I questioned him with my eyes. ‘Charlotte Miller,’ he explained; ‘do you know her? She was very insistent. She contacted my boss directly. He says she should be a diplomat.’ Jonathan wrinkled his eyes to show us his boss was being sarcastic. ‘Apparently, she controls everything in London, is that true?’

‘How did you find us?’ Xing asked.

‘I followed you. After I gave you the new docs I followed you back to your hotel, and then I waited, and when you came out I followed you again.’

‘I didn’t see you,’ I said. ‘I was looking, and we weren’t followed.’

Jonathan Puddles smiled bashfully.

‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I am rather good at it. I had lessons in London before I came out here. I must just have a natural talent for it, I suppose. You know, it really is as simple as ABC.’

We left Jonathan Puddles with strict instructions not to follow us again and not to report to Charlotte that we were staying in a hotel. I told him I would speak to her personally. She would hear everything she needed to from me. He didn’t seem too sure, but when Xing explained it to him, he seemed to come round to the idea.

‘Charlotte’s jealous,’ Xing said. ‘It’s because you didn’t kill me when you were told to. She thinks you like me.’

I ignored her.

‘What did your contact say?’ I asked.

‘He didn’t know anything, nothing I didn’t already know. It didn’t help. Except, there was one thing he told me. He told me he’d just heard today that Missouri had doubled his personal bodyguard and had cancelled his meetings. Do you know what that means?’

‘Yes, it’s going to make our job even harder.’

‘No, it means he’s scared. It means he knows I’m going to kill him unless he kills me first. It means he’s weak.’

We returned to the hotel.

Before committing ourselves, we scouted the entrance and the street. I took my time and did it properly. We went into the lobby separately. Xing went first and I followed. The Americans have a saying for it:
I’ve got your back.
If Missouri knew where to find her he would send a professional, not the street punks he sent before. He would send the best he could find. We had both agreed that it was sensible to move location. We avoided the lifts. The staircase was wide and thickly carpeted. Xing went ahead. I kept her in sight all the way. On our floor, again Xing went first. She continued beyond our suite door to the corner. I followed. We both ensured the whole floor was secure. Inside our suite, I waited by the door while Xing swept the rooms. All clear—she gave me the silent hand signal—thumbs up.

‘Fill the rucksacks and let’s go,’ I said. I cracked the door and checked the hallway. Xing appeared at my back. Her rucksack was on. I took mine and slung it over my shoulder. We left and were on the stairs in seconds. In the lobby, I settled the bill. Xing stood against the wall. She scanned between the door, the desk and the lifts. She might not have had any formal army training but her techniques were straight from the military training manual.

I went first through the doorway. The street was busy. I took my time and searched carefully. Xing came out. The palm of her hand pressed against my back. ‘Let’s go,’ she whispered into my neck. We hurried onto the pavement and covered ourselves in the crowd. We were clear. Perhaps we overdid it. Were we being too cautious? Xing looked at me.

‘It’s better to be safe than sorry,’ she said.

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘My father used to say it to me,’ she said. I wondered if he had followed his own advice on the day that he was shot and killed. I didn’t voice my thoughts.

We walked back to Elgin Street. This time, instead of the Dai Pai Dong we found a café. It had the word coffee in the sign over the door. I felt more confident. Inside, we sat at a small table against the far wall. It was the best seat for watching the door. I drank my coffee and ate my pastry. Xing had tea and something that looked like seaweed. She ate it from a small white bowl with chopsticks.

‘You don’t believe in anything?’ I said.

Xing looked up from her bowl. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The randomness of existence and chaos theory to explain it,’ I said.

Xing returned to her bowl. ‘What do you believe in?’ she said.

‘What’s chaos theory?’ I asked.

‘It explains why mountains aren’t symmetrical and why butterflies are more important than you think.’

I didn’t understand. I liked the thought of chaos being the determining factor though. Chaos suited me.

‘There’s no God then?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she said, ‘there’s no God.’

‘Is life meaningless?’

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but it doesn’t matter, it’s all there is. If you can explain it better, let me know.’

I drank my coffee. She continued with her seaweed. I wondered if there were anything, she wouldn’t do to get the money back and to ensure she killed Missouri before he killed her. I knew the answer. I thought I knew the answer.

‘How would you have killed us both?’ I asked. Xing raised her face. Her eyes searched mine with that expression she sometimes had. It felt like she could see your darkest secret. ‘Back in London, you said you could kill us both if you wanted to, me and Meriwether.’

Her expression broke and eyes turned introspective. ‘I was bluffing,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to kill you, not like that, not when you were prepared.’

‘There was a knife on the table, right by your hand,’ I said.

‘You weren’t worried were you?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘but I’m glad we didn’t have to test it.’

Her eyes darkened. She shrugged again. ‘I don’t want to kill you,’ she said. Her voice was conversational.

I finished my coffee.

‘We’re going to need a plan.’ I said.

‘A cunning plan,’ she added.

‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘a cunning plan.’

Outside, back on the street, the daylight had begun to disintegrate. It looked like we’d stepped into a silent movie from the Twenties.

We walked north, up the sloping concrete towards the horizon, and a mountain range of tall buildings.

Xing had chosen a new hotel for us. ‘It’s one of the best in Hong Kong,’ she said. ‘It’s very expensive but you’re paying.’

I’d made the mistake of telling her about my company credit card. ‘How much do you get paid for killing people?’ I asked.

‘That all depends,’ she said. ‘Is it a job for the Chinese or a triad boss or...’ she paused for effect, ‘...Bartholomew Meriwether?’

Xing had mischievous side. I was getting to know her. Exposure must have been affecting my judgement. I had agreed to the new hotel.

‘It’s close to the waterfront,’ she said.

I stared up at the tall, silver building. Even in the gloom, it shone. In front of me was a wide entrance. Inside, the lights were bright and welcoming.

‘Bazzer isn’t paying you to kill anybody,’ I said.

‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s go in.’

The doorman nodded a greeting. It was a long walk to the desk. The vast lobby had the air of a chapel of worship. Our feet were no match for the burnished marble floor. It barely noticed our presence. Thick marble pillars gave their uncomplaining support. The monolith seeped opulence. Xing saw me look up at the soaring architecture. The marble floor enjoyed enough headroom to keep a base jumper happy.

‘The height of luxury,’ she said. ‘You will like the view from the room.’

‘Have you stayed here before?’

‘I did a job here once, a couple of years ago.’

‘We only have a Harbour Suite available, sir,’ said the woman behind the desk.

‘How much is it?’

She gave me the price in HK Dollars.

Before I could respond Xing said, ‘we’ll take it.’

I passed over the company credit card.

‘Thank you, sir,’ the desk woman said. She smiled at me as her glossy thumb and forefinger closed around the plastic.

The suite was a modern shrine of tidy edges and smooth surfaces. A bank of solid rectangular glass brought the harbour into the room. Daylight had dripped away and the lights across the water shimmered like fireflies on a summer’s night.