FEARLESS FINN'S MURDEROUS ADVENTURE (47 page)

Vinnie didn’t celebrate half as much as me, so he probably doesn’t have a mouth full of feathers and a Milwaukee brass band playing in his head like I do. I need to tell him to make sure the girls are ready to leave in time.

———

I bumped into Earl in the hallway. I was on my way to his room to see how he’s coping with his hangover, and he was on his way to see me.

We went back to his room, and hung-over or not, he sure woke me up and got my attention. We have less than six hours to get Nataliya Yelena and Nakita Sylvina to Kai Tak Airport in Hong Kong, where they’ll board Uncle Angelo’s Gulfstream jet.

Thank God Uncle Sui gave me his private number. The phone was answered in Cantonese by a gentle-voiced girl who switched immediately to English when she heard me speak.

“My grandfather isn’t here….But maybe I can help?”

“We have five hours to deliver the Moscow packages to Kai Tak Airport. They’ll be collected by a private carrier.”

“That might be a problem. Can you send the carrier to Macau? It is better to deliver the packages directly on board there…something we can’t promise to arrange at Kai Tak. I was with the packages yesterday, and they are looking forward to being with you as soon as possible. I’ll make a telephone call and have them readied for the journey. Please let me know if you can collect in Macau.”

Just like her grandfather, May-Li hung up while I was mid-sentence trying to explain the urgency of the situation. But she seems to understand anyway.

Earl called Palm Springs and spoke to Uncle Angelo about sending the jet to Macau. He put the handset down and stood waiting by the phone. When he answered the buzz he said nothing, but he turned to face me with a thumbs up.

I hustled back over to my suite and phoned Uncle Sui’s number again. I told May-Li that the jet is
en route
to Macau, and I’ll be arriving at the Macau heliport in a few hours.

———

I washed my hair, just for something to relieve the boredom. Nakita Sylvina is out on the lawn, playing beside the Brazilian pines that have branches like monkeys’ tails.

“Hurry, hurry, must hurry,” shouted two guards as they came rushing through the house. They ran into our bedroom, grabbed two suitcases and started throwing all our belongings into the cases.

“What is happening?” I asked, but they ignored me.

Dear Saint Nicholas my heart is pounding so hard I know it will jump out of my chest….This is not good. I can not think and I am walking in circles. My hair is wrapped in a towel, my feet are in carpet slippers, and I am wearing a dressing gown with no make-up. Why I worry about make-up when I know that the Russian Mafia men have come to take me back to work again as a проститутка…a prostitute…I have no idea.

“Is it the prince coming for me, is it?” yelled Nakita Sylvina at the top of her little voice as she ran in from the garden.

The telephone rang, one of the guards answered the extension by the bed and gave me the handset. It is May-Li, she says we will be taken to Macau shortly, and we must hurry because a private plane is coming to collect us.

“But tell me…who’s plane?…Where are we going?…Why in such a hurry?” I asked the questions as fast as I could think of them.

“I spoke with Gerry, sorry Vincenzo, five minutes ago, but I don’t know anything more than I’ve already told you. He has a private jet arriving in Macau in a couple of hours to take you to safety. That’s all I know. So please, hurry….I will meet you at the pier.”

Thank you dear Nicholas and Mary…it is not the Russian thugs coming for us!

———

Earl and I grabbed our luggage and passports and took off for the airport; we hopped the next China Airlines flight to Hong Kong. With Earl still looking as sick as a wet dog, we got a taxi from Kai Tak Airport to the heliport in Sheung Wan.

May-Li sent a car to meet us at the Macau heliport. Within five minutes of landing I was dropped off at the Mandarin Oriental, and Earl was taken to the Pousada de São Tiago.

I’m sipping tea in the hotel lobby, waiting for Uncle Sui. He walked in surrounded by eight bodyguards…walking a whole lot closer to him than I’m used to seeing.

“Vincenzo…why wasn’t I told that a private jet is coming to collect the packages?”

“It was arranged at short notice….My Uncle Angelo has a habit of doing things on the spur of the moment…and expecting everyone to fit in with his plans,” I tried to explain. “But with everything going on…the investigation into Susie’s murder…I thought you’d be happy to get the girls out of your hair.” I can see by the look on his face that my last remark pissed him off.

“With everything going on? Vincenzo, have you not heard about the massacre here last night? A truckload of very dead Russians was left outside the Lisbon Hotel. Yes…I’d say that there’s plenty going on!”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” I asked, as I leaned across the table to pour lapsang souchong into Uncle Sui’s willow pattern bone china teacup.

He didn’t answer me outright, but the shadow of a grin that flitted across his face says it all.

“My granddaughter took it upon herself to make certain arrangements. Your woman and her child will be here soon. May-Li has come to an understanding with our friends at the Macau airport…you and the two females will board the aircraft without being bothered by any of the usual formalities. What happens when you get to wherever you’re going we can not help you with. Come back to see me Vincenzo…and bring that presumptuous uncle of yours with you. Now it’s goodbye, good luck, and
bon voyage
my friend…
bon voyage
.”

With that, Uncle Sui left just as he’d entered – closely surrounded by eight bodyguards. Who is he expecting to avenge the dead Russians?

———

A jeep with blackened windows arrived at the house. Nakita Sylvina and I got in and the guards loaded our luggage into the back. We drove to a pier where a speedboat is waiting for us…with its jet engines churning the water. People are gathered around, admiring the boat shaped like a cigar case.

May-Li is on board the boat. The guards handed our luggage down to a boat boy who’s wearing a white shirt, black shorts, white deck shoes and black wraparound sunglasses. We tore away from the Cheung Chau pier in a plume of water.

“Are we going to see Finn?” asked Nakita Sylvina, tugging at my sleeve.

“Not this time sweetie…but I am sure that he will come to see you when you are settled in your new home. Maybe he will even collect you from school with Anna. That would be nice, yes?” She hugged her doll and nodded yes at the idea.

We were met at the pier in Macau by a Lincoln Town Car, also with blackened windows. It dropped us at the Mandarin Oriental in less than five minutes.

Vincenzo’s waiting for us! I ran over and threw my arms around his neck. He walked us to a table and ordered sandwiches and coffee, and Nakita Sylvina asked for ‘Finn’s drink’ – fresh orange juice.

“Vincenzo, now tell me, what is going on?”

“All I know is what Earl told me, and what May-Li told you….My Uncle Angelo is a very powerful New York businessman and he’s sending his private jet. They’ll fly us to Canada where we’ll live in a mansion he owns until we’re married and can go to the US. Will you be happy when you and Nakita Sylvina become American citizens?”

As if I need any convincing to say yes, he reminded me that Nakita Sylvina and I will soon travel on US passports. And he said after the wedding we can all return to Russia to visit my mother…and even bring her to America…if she wants to come.

“Vincenzo, if we have to live in Iceland to be together, Nakita Sylvina and I will be there with you. It is a nice thought about my mother, and we will see in time if she wants to visit America…but you do not need to convince me. We will go anywhere you say….OK!”

———

Uncle Angelo’s Gulfstream landed on schedule, and the Lincoln Town Car with blackened windows drove us right on to the tarmac. Nataliya Yelena carried a sleeping Nakita Sylvina up the stairs and I lugged the bags.

We boarded the jet without anyone at Macau airport to see us off or wave goodbye. We’re someone else’s problem now. The Far East is kind of like that – people come, people go, everything moves on…there’s not much sentimentality, no looking back, and no regrets.

It’s a long flight to Canada. We’ll be flying over the North Pole, and I asked the co-pilot to give me a shout ten minutes before we’re there.

“Sure, I’ll let you know. We’ll be re-fuelling in Moscow first…if you want to stretch your legs there, grab a sandwich, or whatever,” he said.

“Not this time….We’ll make do with what you have on board.”

Nataliya Yelena was sort of jumpy during the stop in Moscow; I told the guys to hurry it up, and we were flying again in no time….

“Ten minutes to the Pole,” the co-pilot announced over the intercom.

I moved to a window seat in the back of the jet and peered out the small window. It’s a clear night; there’s no cloud cover and I can see the icebergs and ice floes as we cross the magnetic pole. It might be wishful thinking, or my eyes are deceiving me, but I could swear I see a pair of polar bears. At twenty thousand feet, probably not. I suppose it must’ve been an illusion.

EN ROUTE
TO LONDON and BUCKINGHAMSHIRE, UK

Four days after
our little party in Macau, a large brown envelope arrived for me at the Island Shangri-La. I forgot that I’d asked Vinnie and Earl to look after arrangements to get me and Mac out of Hong Kong – in case anything went wrong after we dealt with the Russians.

Thanks to the Yanks, Mac and myself now have perfectly forged New Zealand passports in the names of Rory Mac Kyle and Finbar Furlong. So we’re taking a British Airways flight from Hong Kong to London, via Bombay, to attend Susie’s funeral.

As we passed the newsagent in Kai Tak Airport I noticed the headline – ‘THAI BODYGUARDS TURN ON RUSSIAN BOSSES IN MACAU PROSTITUTE RING’. The Thai minders employed by the Russians are getting the blame for the murders. No harm there, they’re horrible creatures anyway. And I know Uncle Sui is sure to be delighted with the news.

We’ve gone through Immigration Control, and I’d like to ring Anna at her mother’s house in Helsingborg before we leave. But I’ve just heard the boarding call for our plane, and there are long queues at the two international phone kiosks in the departure lounge.

———

For the first half of our flight to Bombay, Mac gave me a blow-by-blow account of the five days he spent with his Macanese translator in China’s Hainan Island. He doesn’t seem to have learnt much Chinese….

“Come on Finbar, stir yerself. We’re in India…they want us off the plane so they can clean it.”

“Mac, what the feck’s going on? I was fast asleep you numbskull!”

“Didn’t ya say ya wanted ta make a telephone call before we get ta England?”

“Sorry Mac, you’re right….Let’s get going.”

Mac handed me one of his hooky credit cards as we walked down the jet way to the concourse. I slipped it into a telephone with international operator service and gave the operator Anna’s mother’s phone number. Mac squashed into the box beside me; we listened as the phone rang in a traditional wooden house in a beautiful small town on Sweden’s western coast, across the water from Denmark.

“
Hej
.”

“May I speak to Anna?”

“
Hej
….
Vem ringer vänligen
?”

“It’s Finn, Anna’s friend. May I speak to Anna please? I’ve only got a few minutes. I’m at an airport in India, on my way to London….Yes, I know her friend Ingrid. Why do you ask?…Dead? But she can’t be dead!”

Mac grabbed the phone from me and I pushed my way out of the small phone box to get some air. After he spoke to Anna’s mother he stared at the handset before carefully replacing it on its cradle. There are tears in his eyes. I’ve never seen tears in his eyes before…not even when they slaughtered his family back in Warrenpoint.

“Finn, for Jaysus’s sake, she died of a heroin overdose….Do ya hear me Finn? A feckin’ heroin overdose! Anna’s too upset ta speak….Her mother said they found Ingrid dead in a bungalow in Fuerteventura last night. Ingrid…dead…heroin….Ya can’t go through with that other business now Finn, so you can’t! You’re already risking twenty years in jail by going back ta the UK for the funeral. The Yanks haven’t informed the gards yet on the Clonmel kidnapping fuck-up, so they still want ta lock ya up at home for that. And the Stockholm police want ta interview ya about the fellah whose face ya smashed. Never mind about the money Ingrid stole, which is sure ta come up now she’s been found dead…a foreign national in the Canaries! The last thing ya need is more trouble…especially the kind of trouble that killed Ingrid.”

We walked back up the jet way and re-boarded the aircraft for our onward flight to London. I threw whiskey into Mac until he fell asleep; I have a lot of thinking to do…and not just about Ingrid.

Mac and I haven’t discussed the slaughter of the Russians. But according to Chopper Conway, Susie was certainly killed in retaliation for the massive losses on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange brought about by her husband’s newspaper articles. I don’t know if Chopper’s detectives found out that Susie was providing insider information for the articles; Chopper didn’t mention anything about that. Anyway, we’ve killed a bunch of
innocent
pimps – well at least they were innocent of butchering Susie Cooke.