Casanova (36 page)

‘Eu não vou te dar o dinheiro. Você vai me matar de qualquer maneira,’ he said.

‘You’re right,’ Xing said. ‘Once I  have the money I will kill you. But, you can use the money to buy something, something important. Mas, você pode usar o dinheiro para comprar alguma coisa.’

‘What? What can I buy?’ he asked.

‘The lives of your daughter and your son and any other family member I might choose to look for. A vida de sua filha e seu filho e qualquer outra família que eu poderia escolher para procurar.’

Missouri was fast. It wasn’t easy for him from a kneeling position. Perhaps Xing was standing too close. A single vault brought him to his feet and from there his hands could reach her.

He knocked away her gun hand and then lunged for her throat. I targeted his back but I didn’t fire. For a moment, I thought his hand might close around her neck. It didn’t. One foot altered her stance and then she leaned backwards from the waist. His determined attempt was futile. Xing rebalanced instantly and then she attacked. Missouri’s body must have known how Xing’s punch bag felt. The punch bag I had seen hanging in her apartment. Her fists and feet played tattoo and despite a battlefield
defence,
Missouri finished back on his knees. Other parts of his face had now joined his lip and were leaking blood. His bellows-imitating chest matched the rasp in his throat as he dragged air like a wounded Spanish bull.

In contrast, Xing brought her breathing quickly under control. She held the Glock by her side while she allowed her arms to rest.

‘Will you transfer the money?’ she asked. She lifted her hands and settled the Glock on the bloodied face of Missouri. He scowled with pain and spat at her. Venomous words rushed from his ugly mouth. She kicked him. The heel of a straight-legged jab sank hard into his chest and he went down onto his side. When he lifted his head, I saw dirt now mingled with the blood around his mouth. He spat again.

Xing
levelled
the Glock once more. ‘What is your answer?’

‘Half,’ he choked. ‘You take half.’

Xing lifted her face and questioned me with her eyes. Did I want half a billion pounds? Nobody had asked me that before.

‘I don’t have a Swiss bank account,’ I said.

‘I have one in Lichtenstein that is untraceable,’ she said.

‘I could never find happiness knowing who had the other half,’ I replied.

Xing’s eyes returned to Missouri. ‘No,’ she said. ‘All of it.’

‘My life,’ he said.

Again, Xing looked at me. I shrugged in a similar way to how she did. It was her decision. I wanted the money. A triad vendetta was not my concern. She continued to look at me. I nodded my approval. Perhaps I could influence her. It would make Missouri’s compliance more likely.

Xing’s eyes returned to Missouri’s bloodied face. There was silence. We all waited for her decision. It seemed she was fighting with herself. Finally, she lowered the Glock and with a small nod said, ‘Yes, your life.’

Missouri sank down with relief and sat on the ground like a boy. He spoke without looking up. His words were in Portuguese.

Xing listened and then she replied. Missouri spoke again. Then Xing spoke to me.

‘We can make the transfer now. We can access the account using the K106. He has the codes
memorised
,’ she said.

‘I tell you the numbers and the words,’ he said to me.

I worked the K106 and connected to Missouri’s bank. It had a secure login that required personal codes. Missouri told me the first set of numbers and I keyed them in. The second set of numbers was longer. The system accepted both and took me through to a new page. Again, it requested a login. This time it was a six-digit number.

‘I have a…’ Missouri didn’t know the word. He changed to Portuguese. Jemima interpreted for me.

‘It’s an electronic device, provided by the bank that produces a unique security code number. It’s in his pocket.’

Missouri took it out of his pocket and threw it to me.

‘Press the button,’ he said.

It was like a key fob with a display. I pressed the button. A six-digit number appeared on the key fob screen and I typed it into the K106.

‘It’s asking for a password,’ I said.

‘…Penelope,’ Missouri said. The significance of using his daughter’s name wasn’t lost on me. It was only an hour earlier that he had willing gambled her life for a pot of gold.

‘Okay, I’m in,’ I said. I found the international transfer function and set up the recipient account using the numbers Meriwether had provided. ‘How much is a billion pounds in Hong Kong dollars?’ I asked.

‘How much is in the account?’ Xing asked. I told her the account balance. ‘Take it all,’ she said.

Missouri groaned.

I keyed in the amount and pressed the transfer button.

‘It wants another code number,’ I said.

‘Use the…’ Missouri said.

‘…this?’ I held up the key fob type device.

‘Yes,’ he said.

I pushed the device’s button and then keyed the displayed six-digit number.

‘It’s asking for another password,’ I said.

‘Benedito
,’ he said.

I wondered whether that was his son’s name. I keyed the name and confirmed the transaction. After a short pause, a message appeared. It read
transaction successful — transfer complete
.

‘It’s done,’ I said. ‘I’ll call London.’

Meriwether answered. He sounded thoughtful.

‘…really? Oh, well, I see, yes, that is remarkable news …what? Oh, yes, I’ll confirm. Very well, yes, yes, leave it to me.’

‘He’s going to check and then call me back,’ I said.

While we waited, I took the opportunity to question Missouri. His face had started to
colour
and swell but at least the blood flow from his cuts had mostly congealed. Going toe to toe with Xing was not an activity he was likely to take up on a regular basis. I considered offering him a couple of my painkillers.

Instead, I asked him, ‘How did you know where we were?’

The man with the pained, battered face didn’t answer.

‘Someone was giving you our location. Who was it?’

He shook his head. ‘I not understand,’ he said.

‘Xing, ask him for me.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t care.’

‘Jemima, ask him,’ I said.

‘What if it was Jemima?’ Xing said.

‘It wasn’t me.’

‘Just ask him. I want to know.’

Jemima asked Missouri in Portuguese. Missouri replied and then they had a conversation. Xing listened.

‘What did he say?’ I asked.

Jemima looked at me and said, ‘He says he doesn’t know.’

‘…why not?’

‘…secrecy.’

‘…secrecy?’

‘…anonymity. Whoever it was kept their identity hidden.’

‘…how?’

‘The information regarding your location was sent directly to Missouri’s personal phone.’

‘…why?’

‘…money. Missouri paid for the information. The unidentified person sent a message to his phone offering him Mosquito’s location for a payment of one million pounds. Missouri transferred the money to an account in the Cayman Islands. He paid for a location update on one further occasion and then a double payment for an ongoing tracker feed.’

My phone rang. It was Meriwether calling back.

‘Ah, dear boy,’ he said. He sounded celebratory. ‘We have the treasure. Your hunt is a success. Jolly good and very well done. You truly are a remarkable fellow. I’m drinking the finest claret and considering the words of John Keats together with the little explored benefits of stargazing.’

I didn’t respond.

‘Tell me how you managed it,’ he said.

‘I got lucky,’ I replied.

‘Ah, luck,’ Meriwether said. ‘Luck has a strange habit of favouring those who do not depend upon it.’

‘I did have Jackie,’ I said.

‘Yes, quite,’ he said. ‘She is an extraordinary young woman.’

‘Have you gotten anywhere with what I told you?’ I asked.

‘I’ve carried out an investigation and I’ve made some progress. I shall have to consider the matter further. We can discuss it when you return. Do you know your future arrangements yet?’

‘I’m done here,’ I said. ‘Can you get me on a plane? It’ll take me a couple of hours to get to the airport.’

‘I’ll make the arrangements,’ he said. ‘I’ll have the details sent to your K106.’

I growled and then said, ‘I never want to use a K106 again.’

Meriwether guffawed. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you do appear unfortunate when it comes to the use of satellite technology. It must be your popularity—everybody always wants to know where you are.’

I didn’t laugh.

‘What about Jackie?’ Meriwether asked. ‘Shall I book her on the flight too?’

I asked Xing if she was coming with me.

She shook her head. ‘I’ll catch a later flight.’

‘No, it’s just me,’ I said.

‘Very well,’ Meriwether said. He sounded strange.

I didn’t ask why. Xing was watching me and waiting.

I ended the call and then nodded at her.

‘He has the transfer,’ I said.

Instantly, I saw her change. Her eyes left me and moved back to Missouri. He remained seated on the ground. His bloodied face lifted. Xing raised her hand. In it, she held the Glock. Her intention was clear. The distance between us was too great. Even if I wanted to stop her, I couldn’t have. The sudden realisation showed on Missouri’s face and cold fear widened his eyes. He opened his mouth to plead. I didn’t believe anything could happen that would save him. I was wrong. In the second before Xing fired the shot that would mean certain death for Missouri we heard a chilling, piercing scream. Xing paused. I turned in the direction of the torturous cry and standing beside the taxi was Penny. Her face was white with horror and her big, terrified eyes had fixed themselves on Xing.

‘No,’ she screamed again. ‘Please don’t kill my father.’

32

TUESDAY, 04:20—16:50 (local time)

For one fleeting moment, I thought I saw an emotion show on Xing’s face. Emotional expressions were not something at which she unnecessarily indulged. I may have been mistaken but it looked to me like empathy.

After the screams, the eucalyptus wood was silent. The Glock remained levelled at Missouri’s head. Everyone was staring at Penny except me. I was staring at Xing. I was wondering whether she would still kill Missouri. Penny’s intervention meant I now had time to reach Xing and intercede if I wanted to. I didn’t move.

It seemed everyone was waiting. Even the wood, lit only by the headlamps of the cars and a shy moon, appeared expectant.

Then, with a trace of annoyance, Xing broke the hangman’s vow and said, ‘Let’s leave.’

She lowered the Glock and gabbled at the duckling in Cantonese. He jumped on her words and ran to the taxi.

‘Shall I get in?’ asked Jemima.

I hadn’t realised how pale he looked.

‘Yes, get in,’ I said.

Penny ran to her father. She knelt down and her hands clasped his neck in a tight embrace.

Xing walked over to me.

‘Call London,’ she said. ‘Tell them to put me on the same flight as you.’

The duckling was just able to steer around the Mercedes. We drove away. Penny remained in a hug with her father. Missouri owed her his life. If she hadn’t woken up when she did and then screamed, Xing would have killed him for sure.

Jemima looked at them together on the ground as we drove off but Xing’s eyes remained frontwards.

While we accelerated along the track and away, I made the call to London.

‘We’ve made a change to our plans,’ I said. ‘Jackie would now like to fly back with me.’

‘Oh, jolly good,’ said Meriwether. ‘I’m very much looking forward to seeing you both. I’ll make the arrangements.’

‘What did he say?’ Xing asked.

‘He said he was looking forward to seeing you,’ I told her. She didn’t reply.

‘I suppose you want us to take you to the ferry terminal,’ Jemima said. ‘There’s one crossing each hour during the night.’ Then he paused. ‘I suppose this means the assignment is over,’ he said. ‘We’ve recovered the money so that’s it.’

I didn’t respond.

‘I suppose London will class it as a success,’ he said. He paused again. ‘Well, it certainly was exciting.’

Neither Xing nor I commented. The duckling, though, did. In terrible English, he said, ‘Vely citing,’ and then grinned. It made Jemima frown. We drove the rest of the way in silence.

All the traffic seemed to move aside as if it knew we were leaving and didn’t want to hold us up. At the ferry terminal, we collected our bags from the boot but left all the hardware for Jemima. I shook his hand.

‘Goodbye,’ he said with a tired smile.

Xing didn’t speak. She turned and walked away. I gave him a nod goodbye and then followed Xing into the terminal building.

We bought our tickets and then waited. Neither of us spoke.

Onboard the ferry, shortly before we arrived back in Hong Kong at the Shun Tak, I received a message on my K106 from London. It was the flight details. Meriwether had put his hand in his pocket for the best tickets with BA. I showed Xing.

‘We can sleep all the way back to London,’ I said.

She just shrugged.

I memorised the flight number and then I threw my K106 over the side into the South China Sea.

‘They will just give you a new one,’ Xing said.

We rode the express train back to Lantau Island and then all the way to the airport.

After visiting the BA desk where we were enjoyed warm smiles and British manners, we waited in their exclusive departure lounge for our flight.

I made the most of the hospitality and ate a full breakfast. Xing returned to our table with what looked like a bowl of white sick topped with a ladleful of locust stew.

‘What are you having?’ I asked.

‘It’s white rice porridge with spicy pickled radishes,’ she said.

‘Oh, I didn’t know they had that,’ I said, disappointedly. I didn’t get a laugh. I waited until she had finished. ‘So why didn’t you kill him?’ I asked. She looked at me. ‘...Missouri, why did you let him live?’

She shrugged. ‘It was Penny,’ she said. ‘She was watching.’

I nodded. ‘Was it empathy that you felt?’ I asked.

Xing paused while she thought. ‘No,’ she said. There was another pause. ‘Just because I didn’t kill him tonight,’ she explained, ‘doesn’t mean I won’t kill him sometime in the future.’

‘What happened in the taxi?’ I asked.

‘...the taxi?’

‘Yes, while I was chasing you all over Macau did something happen in the taxi with Penny?’

‘She talked about herself.’

‘What did she say?’ I asked.

‘She told me that her mother is dead.’

‘I see,’ I said.

‘What does that mean?’ she asked.

‘It means that you feel empathy, which is an emotion of compassion.’

Xing stared at me. It was as if I’d voiced a terrible secret. I thought she was going to tell me something but she remained silent.

The flight attendant told us our plane was ready to leave. We boarded the big jet where our cots awaited. They were side by side. Xing didn’t want to talk. The jet lifted off and I said goodbye to Hong Kong and Macau.

‘When will you return?’ I asked.

Xing shrugged and then closed her eyes. I closed mine too and was asleep before I could have another waking thought.

My body needed to sleep. For seven peaceful hours, the aeroplane cot was my friend. Even the pain from the injury inflicted by the rubber bullet eased. When I awoke and turned my head, Xing was watching me.

‘Did you sleep?’ I asked her.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Why are you returning with me to London?’ I asked.

‘To get the money,’ she said.

‘They’ll transfer it into any account you want. They won’t have it waiting for you in cash.’

She shrugged.

‘Has Meriwether asked you to come back?’

‘Don’t question me,’ she said.

I didn’t push any further.

The steward had more teeth than his mouth could cope with. They repeatedly attempted to escape through his shiny lips.

‘How do you stop your face from aching?’ I asked him.

‘It’s like any job, sir,’ he replied. ‘You just get used to it.’

The wheels of the Boeing smacked the runway. It was the middle of the day, local time. London was enjoying one of those rare winter days when high pressure allows a piercing sun to glisten over the rows of frosty rooftops.

Inside the arrivals lounge, I spotted a man wearing a peaked cap and holding up a sign. The sign read
the great eastern treasure hunt party.

‘How do you do, sir,’ the man with the peaked cap said.

‘Who are you?’ I asked.

‘My name is Parsons, sir...miss.’ He acknowledged Xing. ‘Mr. M requests the pleasure of your company for luncheon. He suggested I drive you home first so you can dress. The motorcar is just outside. Can I take your bag, miss?’

Xing held on to her bag.

Parsons led us to an old Bentley. The burnished coachwork dazzled in the winter sunshine.

‘I trust your journey was not too tiring, miss?’ he asked, while opening the boot for our bags.

Xing and I sat in the back quietly while the peak capped Parsons wafted us into the West End. He parked outside my apartment in Pimlico.

‘I’ll wait for you in the motorcar, sir,’ he said, while passing out our bags from the open boot.

‘Thank you, Parsons,’ Xing said, in a posh English accent. The words came edged with subtle humour.

My apartment felt cold and unloved.

‘Turn up the heating,’ Xing said. She pressed against my back. ‘I’m cold,’ she added.

We showered together but it was different. I don’t know why. We dressed quickly and then returned to the waiting Parsons in his gleaming Bentley.

He drove us across town to St. James’s Square and Meriwether’s club.

‘Thanks, Parsons,’ I said.

‘Not at all, sir,’ he replied.

Inside Meriwether’s club, we found him waiting for us in the lounge used by members to entertain their visitors. As usual, he was standing at the bar with a martini shaker nearby. He was thinking. What he was thinking about, I have no idea.

‘Did you know,’ he said, as we walked over, ‘it’s taken me all this time but I’ve finally persuaded the chef to put steak and kidney pie on the luncheon menu?’

‘No, I didn’t know,’ I said.

‘Well, it has,’ he said. ‘Good afternoon, my dear.’ Meriwether’s attention seamlessly transferred to Xing. ‘How was your flight? I trust the airline staff made you comfortable.’

Xing’s eyes held Meriwether’s face as if his manner and voice fascinated her.

‘We slept most of the way,’ she said.

‘Excellent,’ he replied. ‘Are you ready for a nice spot of luncheon? Let’s go through. All is prepared.’

Meriwether led us to the same small room in which we had spent Christmas Eve. Someone had laid the table for our meal and put a match to the fire. The bobcat was spitting and snarling in the grate.

A waiter entered wheeling a hostess trolley that seemed difficult to push.

‘Everything is just as you ordered, sir,’ the waiter said.

‘Thank you, Carson,’ Meriwether replied.

‘Will that be all, sir?’

‘Yes, thank you, Carson. That will be all.’

The waiter left and we were alone.

Meriwether stood and went to the fire. He used the poker like a lion tamer.

‘It must be the wood,’ he said. ‘This fire spits worse than a bad-tempered llama.’

Satisfied with his blaze control, he went to the trolley. Using the back of his hand, he felt the temperature of the top white plate.

‘Apparently, we lost the signal from your K106 somewhere between Macau and Hong Kong,’ he said.

‘I threw it in the South China Sea,’ I said.

Meriwether nodded. ‘That’s what I thought,’ he said. ‘I must tighten the security on those bloody things. I’ll speak to our technical boys. They’ll work something out.’

‘I don’t feel reassured,’ I said. ‘Do you know who it was yet?’