Dead in Hong Kong (Nick Teffinger Thriller) (12 page)

Kong cocked his head.

“Go ahead and feel him out, with no guarantees,” he said. “Just be sure you keep things vague.”

“He’ll definitely want to do it,” Kam Lee said. “There’s no doubt in my mind. We’ll even shut the place down so he’s the only one here.”

“What’s his name?”

She ran a finger down his chest.

“You know I don’t do that.”

Day Five—August 7

Friday Night

______________

FRIDAY NIGHT, THE SUN GAVE WAY TO NEON and the heat lost its stranglehold. Prarie and Emmanuelle took a double-decker bus north on Nathan Road, deep into Kowloon, and got off in Mangkok at Argyle Street. The rumor was that this was the most c
rowded real estate in the world; the golden mile

Being here, right now, Prarie believed it.

Insane bumper-to-bumper traffic, four lanes wide, crawled along. Thousands of people congested the sidewalks, elbow to elbow. Neon signs were everywhere, not just flat against the buildings, but cantilevered over the street, as big and as far as their supports would go, creating a canopy of light.

“Somewhere there are three nuclear reactors going at full speed just to power this block,” Emmanuelle said.

Prarie chuckled.

“I was going to guess four.”

Every store was open.

The eateries and bars were jammed to the walls.

Prarie’s purse seemed heavier then usual and then she remembered why—the knife. Emmanuelle’s would even be heavier.

She had the gun, c
leaned now
, w
ith six bullets left in the clip.

All of Emmanuelle’s credit cards and identification papers were in her back pocket, however, not the purse. That way she could abandon it in a Hong Kong heartbeat if she needed to and not worry about getting traced to it.

THE BAR THEY WERE LOOKING FOR turned out to be a loud, smoky, shoulder-to-shoulder place with a Filipino band, Grade-C, considerably drunker than it should be. They got drinks, found a place to stand and waited. When the men looked, it was usually at Prarie, who was more their size. Emmanuelle intimidated them. Ten minutes later a man walked up and said in English, “Are you the ladies who want the painting?”

He was young, about twenty-five, t
aller than average
, nice looking and clean cut; n
ot what Prarie expected.

“Yes,” Emmanuelle said.

“I’m the artist,” he said. “Come with me.”

He led them out of the bar and off the beaten path, away from the neon, to a crappy car, and told them to get in the back. Then he handed them blindfolds and said, “Put these on.”

Prarie’s heart raced.

“Why?”

“Because no one gets to know where the studio is,” he said. Prarie must have had a look on her face because the man added, “This is a deal-breaker.”

Prarie looked at Emmanuelle who exhaled and put the blindfold on.

Prarie followed suit.

The car pulled away.

THEY DROVE FOR A LONG TIME. Based on the decreasing traffic congestion, they were probably going north. No one spoke. Ostensibly, all the cloak-and-dagger was to keep the location of the studio unknown, not only because of the inventory of replicas, but because the artist was also a collector.

He was ripe for the robbing i
f a robber knew where to look.

H
e took no chances.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “Two more minutes.”

Day Five—August 7

Friday Afternoon

______________

AFTER LOSING THE TRAIL of the mystery woman,
Teffinger
called Fan Rae and told her he just got a call from Denver and needed to handle an emergency matter this afternoon. A man charged with murder filed a motion to exclude evidence and the D.A. needed to email a number of documents to
Teffinger
and go over them.

That was a lie; a
lie to avoid seeing Fan Rae until he could figure things out.

“We’re still on for tonight, right?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m free.”

When he hung up, he called Dr.
Leigh
Sandt
, the FBI profiler from Quantico, Virginia. She answered on the third ring, groggy, getting woken up. He pictured a classy lady sitting up in bed, about fifty, with the best legs in the universe
—Tina
Turner legs.

“It’s me,” he said.

“
Nick
?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what time it is?”

He did a quick calculation.

It would be 4:00 a.m., Virginia time.

He should have waited three hours.

“Look, I know I’m waking you and I’m really sorry about it, but I have a situation,” he said. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You sound faint,” she said. “Where are you?”

“Hong Kong.”

“Hong Kong?”

“Right.”

“What are you doing in Hong Kong?”

“Hunting,” he said. “But here’s the thing. I’m working with a Hong Kong detective by the name of Fan Rae Fan. I just came across some information to the effect that she’s actually connected to the people I’m looking for—I’m not sure yet if she’s part of them or covering up for them or what. But I do know that she’s dirty and she’s lying to me. What I need is some background on her.”

Silence.

“That would be a CIA matter,” she said.

“I know,”
Teffinger
said. “Can you make a call?”

Leigh
grunted.

“God,
Nick
, if it was anyone but you—”

“Love you,” he said.

“Be careful,” she said. “It sounds like you’re way out of your league.”

“I usually am.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” she said. “It may be a couple of days.”

“I don’t have a couple of days. I might not even have a couple of hours.”

“Nothing’s ever normal with you,
Teffinger
,” she said. “Do you know that?”

Unfortunately, he did.

HE SPENT THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON on the Star Ferry, ping-ponging across Victoria Harbour between Hong Kong and Kowloon, hoping that the salt air would clear his thoughts.

It did, to a point.

He was able to figure out a few things.

Fan Rae knew who d’Asia was, meaning she had been deceiving
Teffinger
by pretending she knew nothing. The reason she had been deceiving him was because the mystery woman was going to kill d’Asia. Fan Rae was either going to help her or, at a minimum, manipulate
Teffinger
until the deed was done.

Based on that information alone,
Teffinger
’s opinion about Fan Rae should be easy—namely, that she was a woman he couldn’t ever respect or love, not in a million years.

But there was a problem.

When they made love, it was real.

Fan Rae hadn’t been faking it.

Nor had he.

As much as he wished he could, he couldn’t turn off his feelings about her just because it made sense.

He still liked her and m
aybe even loved her.

There was one more problem, too, a big one—he still thought about d’Asia. He could still see feel her straddling him in the dark. He could still smell the rain in her hair. He could still taste her skin.

What to do?

What to do?

DR.
LEIGH
SANDT
phoned just as dusk settled on Hong Kong and the neon lights started to flicker “I called in some markers and officially owe three blowjobs,” she said. “Unfortunately, nothing bubbled to the surface. Based on what everyone could throw together fast, the woman is clean. That doesn’t mean there isn’t something there to find, given time and effort, but if it’s there it’s going to take some digging.”

“Thanks.”

He appreciated it.

He really did.

“You want us to dig deeper?”

Teffinger
ran his fingers through his hair and pictured the process, namely surveillance, interviews, records searches, the kinds of things that took weeks.

“Hold off for now,” he said. “Let me see how the next couple of days go.”

“Okay.”

“I owe you one,” he said.

She laughed.

“Yeah, right, one—followed by two zeros.”

“I didn’t know you were keeping count,” he said. “Next time you’re in Denver, I’ll take you out and get you drunk.”

“Deal,” she said. “At a cowboy bar. Do you still have some of those around?”

He did.

He did indeed.

“Okay then,”
Teffinger
said. “I’ve got you penciled in.”

“Oh, no, not pencil, buddy—pen. I know how your pencil works.”

FAN RAE CALLED TEN MINUTES LATER.

“Are we still on for tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll pick you up at 9:30,” she said. “I’m wearing something dark so I don’t stand out too much.”

Teffinger
thought,
g-punk
.

“Good idea,” he said. “Just be sure it’s something that comes off.”

“Do you want me to wear pants or a dress?”

A dress, a
short one.

The shortest one she has.

“What color underwear?”

“No underwear.”

“You want me to wear the shortest dress I have and no underwear?”

“That’s right.”

“I didn’t know you were so nasty,” she said.

“Now you know.”

“I’ve never done that before.”

“Do it tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to. Show me I’m special.”

“But you are special.”

“Prove it.”

Silence.

“Okay,” she said, “but in return I expect you to get me seriously drunk.”

“Done.”

TEFFINGER
HUNG UP and didn’t know why he did what he just did. Maybe it was to see what her limits were, and whether she’d go there for him. Maybe it was just so he could squeeze her bare ass whenever he felt like it.

“Don’t over-think it,” he muttered. “Your brain isn’t that big.”

Day Five—August 7

Friday Night

______________

RA BUSTED ONTO THE SOHO SCENE eight months ago and became the instant big dog. It had a section for every sin. Paramount was an insanely massive techno dance floor with women in suspended cages who gyrated in their underwear. But there was also a live band room called the Inferno, a hostess bar called Twisted, and a bed and sofa lounge called Chills. Every nook and cranny was filled with sexual tension and the most beautiful people in Hong Kong.

Kong ran the place.

He was in charge of all hiring and firing, meaning no one worked there without his approval. He personally chose the bartenders, doormen, dancers, and everyone else. Only the pretty needed to apply. He was also present most nights, with his smiles and rock star looks and perfect clothes seductively unbuttoned, to be sure that the customers had a good time
, with particular attention to the GQ, the models and the rich and relevant
.

His job sounded easy.

It wasn’t, a
nything but.

He earned his money.

Behind him, in the background, was an army of geeks who handled the mundane, things like ads and promotion, booking the bands, liquor inventory, security, insurance, bookkeeping, licensing, housekeeping, maintenance, payroll, benefits, taxes, et cetera.

Jack Poon owned the place.

It was a drop in his bucket.

It could evaporate and his bottom line wouldn’t even twitch.

Kong had been managing a smaller club in Lan Quai Fong called Freefall, also a Poon club although no one knew it, and got moved over to Ra when it opened. Kong didn’t meet Poon for five months and even that was just a quick handshake.

Poon didn’t micro-manage.

He delegated
and t
hen disappeared.

Friday night was the big one at Ra
, t
he party night.