The Diamond Queen of Singapore

by Ian Hamilton

  Hi, Ava. I just spoke to Derek. I’ve cancelled all my appointments this afternoon, so whenever you get here, I’ll be available, Howell wrote. As for my tech team, I’ve had Mark Wilson, my lead techie here, and two outside colleagues working around the clock since yesterday. Mark will be briefing me at 11 a.m., so by the time you get here I’ll have some information to pass along.

  Ava shook her head, her impatience returning. Why did Howell have to wait for a briefing? Why would she have to wait to find out what his people had learned? She considered firing off a response that echoed those sentiments, then paused. Nothing was going to happen until they met. Anything they found out in the interim would contribute to the meeting and nothing more than that. She was so close to success she could almost feel it. There was no reason to upset people she needed.

  She returned to Gentleman Jack.

  (37)

  Ava walked through the glass doors at Pearson International’s Terminal 1 arrivals hall to find Derek waiting for her. He gave her a tiny smile, and Ava could feel the tension in his body as they hugged.

  “I spoke to Todd Howell. He can meet us any time after one o’clock,” Derek said as he took the Shanghai Tang bag from her.

  “Yes, I know. I emailed him just in case you couldn’t reach him.”

  “He told me you did and asked me if I knew why you seemed so eager to get together,” Derek said. “I told him I have no idea but that you aren’t someone who wastes other people’s time.”

  “I think we’re getting close to getting the money back,” she said.

  “I guessed as much. What’s still missing?”

  “I want to be able to draw a direct line between the outfit selling drugs in Canada and a bank account in Vanuatu. Right now I can’t, though that doesn’t mean I don’t have enough information to go after them,” she said. “I’m also struggling to decide which strategy has the best chance of success. A key part of any strategy includes ending this as quickly as possible.”

  Ava had been speaking as they walked towards the parking garage. They came to a stop behind a line of people at the machines where parking fees were paid.

  “Are you going to discuss strategy with Todd Howell?” Derek asked.

  “That’s my plan, and of course you’ll be included as well.”

  “What if Howell wants to involve the police?”

  “The only time I’ll agree to that is after we’ve gotten all the money back.”

  “Will he be okay with that?”

  “From the discussions I’ve had with him, I think so. He wants to resolve this almost as badly as we do, and as long as we don’t go completely outside the law, I expect he’ll go along with us.”

  “What do you mean by ‘completely outside’?”

  “Well, I have no plans to use a machete.”

  Derek smiled. “Do you really believe things could get physical?”

  Ava shrugged. “Who knows how the other side might respond when they know we’re coming after them.”

  It was Derek’s turn to pay, and he stepped in front of the machine. A moment later they walked into the short-term parking area, where Derek’s white Honda CR-V was only a few spots from the door. He put Ava’s bags in the back next to Amber’s car seat.

  Ava was still struck sometimes by Derek’s transformation from Ferrari-driving, hard-drinking party boy to an SUV-driving doting father and husband. “Whatever happened to that red Ferrari you had?” she asked as she climbed into the front passenger seat.

  “I sold it to Max Tung. I got enough money for this car and half the down payment on our house.”

  “Do you still see him?”

  “Not often. He hasn’t changed his lifestyle, so he’s out most nights and sleeping most days.”

  “Do you ever miss that?”

  “Truthfully, it was hard for the first six months, when it was just Mimi and me. She was working, and during the day I didn’t have much outside of bak mei training and video games to occupy myself. But from the second Amber was born, she became the most important thing in my life. During Mimi’s maternity leave I looked after both of them, and I enjoyed it, but I was kind of pleased when Mimi went back to work and it was just me and the baby,” Derek said.

  “Have you told Mimi that?”

  “Oh yes — and she laughed. She said she’d been a bit worried when the baby was born that fatherhood might be too much for me to handle. Instead she has to put up with the fact that, where the girls of the house are concerned, she’s playing second fiddle.”

  “Are you planning to have more kids?”

  “We’re working on it,” Derek said as he exited the airport and headed down Highway 427 towards the Gardiner Expressway. He looked at the time on the dash. “I’m assuming you want to go to your condo first to freshen up.”

  “You know me well.”

  It was late enough in the morning that traffic was moving steadily. “We should be there by eleven-thirty and leave for Howell’s office by twelve-thirty.”

  “That’s fine. It should give you time to do some copying for me. I have a raft of papers in my Vuitton bag,” she said, reaching into it. “The Four Seasons Hotel on Yorkville has a decent business centre you can use. I’d like four copies of everything.”

  “What papers are those?”

  “Purchase orders from Muir to the drug manufacturing company, emails from him to the company handling distribution, and all sorts of banking information.”

  “Does Howell know you have all this?”

  “I didn’t go into detail with him, but he has a broad idea of what I’ve got,” she said. “I’m more anxious to know what he’s got. He’s had a team of technicians trying to find Canadian websites selling the Chengdu meds. I’m hoping to learn where the money is being sent.”

  “The missing link.”

  “Exactly.”

  The SUV turned east onto the Gardiner. Straight ahead Ava could see the CN Tower and a skyline that had been expanding ever since she could remember. Toronto didn’t have quite the heft of New York, and the condo towers that ran along Lake Ontario, the city’s southern edge, lacked the design originality and soaring presence of the Hong Kong and Shanghai waterfronts, but it was home, and she loved it.

  Ava leafed through the papers as Derek made his way to the Spadina Avenue exit. She saw no reason for him to copy every document. A representative sample detailing the steps that turned stolen money into diamonds, diamonds into drugs, and drugs back into money that paid down the chapel’s mortgage and lined pockets would be good enough to make her case. She selected the necessary papers and fixed them together with a large clip.

  She had been so focused on the paperwork that she hadn’t noticed that they drove past old Chinatown. When she finally looked up, they were almost at Bloor Street. “That was quick,” she said.

  “We were lucky. Let’s hope it’s an omen.”

  Derek turned right onto Bloor and drove past the Bata Shoe Museum and the Royal Ontario Museum to Avenue Road. In rapid succession a left, followed by a right onto Cumberland, and a left into a public parking garage brought them to a stop, and they walked through the lot to its Yorkville Avenue exit. Ava’s condo building was almost directly across the street, while the Four Seasons was a couple of blocks to the east.

  Ava gave Derek the papers she’d taken from her Vuitton bag. “I’ll see you at twelve-thirty at this exit,” she said.

  The building’s concierge acknowledged her as she entered the condo lobby. “Welcome back, Ms. Lee. Another successful trip?”

  “Not yet, but I’m hopeful.”

  She had purchased the condo at a time when her mother could boast to her friends, “My daughter has bought a condo in Yorkville,” and get some jealous reactions. Ten years later the neighbourhood had become even more trendy and expensive. The fact that she owned a condo on the top floor of a bui
lding on Yorkville Avenue usually generated begrudging admiration, but admiration all the same.

  Ava entered her unit, went directly to the kitchen, and checked her home phone for messages. There were two, one supposedly from the Canada Revenue Agency saying they were ready to lay charges against her and she should call them to avoid any further action, and the second from someone selling duct cleaning. For the tenth time in as many months, Ava resolved to get rid of her landline.

  She quickly checked emails and found nothing new. She emailed Fai: I’m home. The flight was uneventful. I’ll call you when I can. Love you, miss you. Ava

  Fifty minutes later she was standing by Derek’s SUV in a black A-line skirt, a white Brooks Brothers shirt, black pumps, and a tasteful application of red lipstick and mascara. He wasn’t there yet, and after waiting five minutes she was beginning to wonder what had happened to him. He finally appeared with five large manila envelopes.

  “What took you so long?” she asked, taking the envelopes from him.

  “That was a lot of paper.”

  They climbed into the car, turned left at Avenue Road, and headed downtown to Howell’s office in the Toronto Commonwealth Bank Building.

  “I read some of the documents. It made everything you’ve been talking about so much more real. I don’t mean it didn’t seem real before, but seeing it in black and white really hit me hard,” Derek said as they reached Queen’s Park Circle. “It’s hard to believe the nerve and hypocrisy of these guys. How did they think they’d get away with this? They obviously don’t give a fuck about the people they’re killing with the junk they’re selling. So much for Christian values.”

  “Well, they have been getting away with it, and from what I know, the Simmons organization in the States has been getting away with it for much longer,” Ava said. “As for Christian values, they’re easy to preach as long as your self-interest isn’t affected. The moment it is, those values tend to become flexible. Look at what’s going on in the U.S. with their president. He’s the compete antithesis of moral, but the evangelicals find a way to twist their value system to accommodate him because he’s anti-abortion and homophobic.”

  “Ava, these chapel guys are selling drugs that kill people. How can that be accommodated by their value system?”

  “I was told they believe that what they’re doing is an act of kindness. They claim they’re bringing relief to people in pain who otherwise can’t afford the medication,” she said. “And I’m sure Rogers and Cunningham believe the profits from the business are enabling the chapel to grow, and in their eyes that’s a good thing and ample justification.”

  “That is such bullshit! I bet they’ve even found a way to rationalize stealing money from their own congregation — and Phil Gregory’s death!” Derek shouted.

  Ava saw he was on the verge of losing control. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said. “I find it upsetting, and I need to get my thoughts together for the meeting.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to let go like that. Around Mimi I’ve been keeping my feelings pent up.”

  “You’re a good man, Derek. Mimi is lucky to have you.”

  Derek nodded and kept his eyes locked on the road.

  They hit heavy traffic a few blocks from King Street and had to inch forward one car length at a time. Ava said, “This will take forever. Why don’t you turn right up there and find a parking lot. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  They found a parking lot on Richmond Street a block west of University Avenue, which meant they had to walk six blocks to Howell’s office. “I hate being late,” Ava said, looking at her watch. “Let’s hustle.”

  They reached the building with a few minutes to spare, and it was only a minute past one when they walked into the offices of Howell, Barker, and Mason.

  “Mr. Howell is waiting for you in the main boardroom,” the receptionist said. “It’s there on the left. The door is open.”

  Ava and Derek walked over to the door. She stuck her head into the room and saw Howell sitting at the far end of a long teak table. A man in a suit was on his right, and a young man with a blond ponytail and black T-shirt that read stay calm. everything is hackable sat on his left.

  “Come in, come in,” Howell said as he stood up. “Ava, this is your fan Eddie Ng, and this is Mark Wilson, our tech wizard, who I mentioned in my email.”

  After a round of handshakes, Ava and Derek sat down.

  “I know you asked for this meeting, Ava, but before we get to your agenda I thought you’d like to hear what Mark and his team have found,” Howell said. “He briefed me this morning, and I asked him to stay so you can hear it directly from him. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

  She looked across the table at Wilson. “I hope that message on your T-shirt was fulfilled when you worked on our project,” she said.

  The techie glanced at Howell, who smiled. Wilson opened the laptop on the table in front of him and hit several keys. A screen on the wall behind Howell came to life. “As you can see, we found four websites promoting the sale of a multitude of synthetic drugs in Canada,” he said

  Ava looked at the list on the screen.

  “The content of the websites is rather low-key, with a focus on pain management.”

  “Tell Ava about the domains,” Howell said.

  “Two of the sites are registered in the Isle of Man and two in Malta. All of them are owned by a numbered company with a post office box in the Isle of Man. The numbered company has one registered owner —”

  “Patrick Cunningham,” Howell interrupted, a broad smile splitting his face.

  “This is great work,” Ava said to Wilson, trying to contain her excitement. “What else did you and the team find?”

  “What interests you the most?” Wilson asked.

  “The money that flows in and out of those websites.”

  “Todd predicted that you’d say that,” Wilson said. He hit another key on the laptop.

  Ava looked at the chart Wilson had put up on the screen, and this time her face burst into a huge smile.

  “The four websites only accept credit card payments. The money goes directly to an online payment processing company called LockBox. They act as a middleman, charging 3.5 percent plus forty cents on every transaction.”

  “I’ve never heard of LockBox,” Derek said.

  “They’re a lot smaller than Stripe or PayPal, but they’re also more flexible — which is a roundabout way of saying that they’ll do business with companies the other two would avoid,” Wilson said. “Their transaction fees are also higher than what most processing companies charge. I imagine they’re charging a premium because of the nature of the transactions.”

  “And, for the same reason, the companies are only too happy to pay a premium,” Ava said, and pointed to the chart. “It appears that the money from all four sites goes into a single account at LockBox.”

  “That is how it’s structured.”

  “Who opened that account?”

  “Patrick Cunningham.”

  Ava looked at Howell, who was smiling even more broadly than before. “What happens to the money when it leaves LockBox?” she asked Wilson.

  “Once a day that account is emptied when LockBox transfers the money to the account of a numbered company.”

  “You don’t have that on the chart. Is it the same numbered company that’s headquartered in the Isle of Man?”

  “No, it’s a different company, registered in Vanuatu.”

  “So the money is being sent to Vanuatu?”

  “Yes.”

  Ava bit back the question that was immediately front of mind and instead asked, “Did you find out who owns the company in Vanuatu?”

  “Not yet. That kind of information is restricted, and Vanuatu has the most impenetrable network any of us have encountered.”

 
“So I keep being told,” she said, and then looked across the table at Wilson. “I assume this numbered company in Vanuatu uses a bank.”

  “The money is sent to a company called Evans Trust,” Wilson said. “We tried to break into their system as well, but failed.”

  “You’ve given us more than enough, thank you,” Ava said.

  “What do we do now?” asked Howell.

  “It’s time to get even.”

  (38)

  Ava waited until Mark Wilson had left the boardroom before passing out the envelopes. As Howell, Derek, and Eddie Ng opened them, she walked over to a whiteboard and wrote People Trail across the top of the board. Under it she wrote Malcolm Muir and connected that name to Jasmine Yip’s, then Jasmine to Essie Lam, Essie to Patrick Cunningham, Cunningham to Sammy Rogers, Rogers to the Simmons family, Randy Simmons to Su Na, and so on, until the board was a spider’s web of interconnecting lines.

  “What I don’t know,” Ava said when she’d finished, “is how Cunningham and Muir first came together. But there’s zero doubt in my mind that Cunningham recruited Muir to set up the fund and run the drug operation. Jasmine Yip was used to front some of the business and is a common link. I have some photos, so there’s no denying there’s a relationship, but how far back does it go?”

  “Before he joined the chapel, Cunningham ran the collections department at a finance company in Toronto. He hired Muir from time to time,” Eddie Ng said.

  “How do you know that?” Ava asked abruptly.

  “I saw the company’s name a few days ago when I was researching Cunningham’s business connections for Todd, and I remembered that it was one of the companies that Muir had worked for.”

  “Why didn’t you mention that to me?” Howell asked.

  “You wanted me to look into companies Cunningham had ownership in. He was only an employee at the finance company. I didn’t think it was relevant.”