The Diamond Queen of Singapore

by Ian Hamilton

“I haven’t given up on everyone else, but the meeting tomorrow is crucial.”

  “If anyone can pull this off, you can,” Derek said. “I’ll be at your condo by eight. I’ll wait outside.”

  Ava put down her phone, picked up the glass of water, and drank half of it. Then she stood up and stretched as she tried to shake her lethargy. Half an hour later she left Nervosa with her appetite sated but the jet lag deepening. It was almost eight o’clock when she got back to the condo. She planned to kill half an hour showering and getting ready for bed, but the first thing she did was call Fai in Taiwan.

  “Hi, babe,” Fai said.

  “Hi yourself. I’m glad I caught you. I’ve missed hearing your voice.”

  “I’m in a van with Andy and some of the cast. I can’t talk for long,” Fai said.

  “Then I’ll talk fast. I’m going to wrap up this case in the next few days. When it’s over, I want to come to Taiwan. Are you still good with that?”

  “I’d love it.”

  “And I sort of promised May that on the way back we’d spend a few days in Hong Kong, and Xu wants us to go to Shanghai. What do you think?”

  “Why don’t we do both?”

  Ava sat on the side of the bed. “Terrific. I’ll let them know.”

  “That’s crazy!” Fai said suddenly as a horn blared in the background.

  “What happened?”

  “We were almost sideswiped by a bus,” Fai said. “Ava, I’d better go. Things are bit hectic in the van right now.”

  “Love you, and talk to you soon,” Ava said as a huge yawn captured her. She put down the phone and flopped backwards onto the bed. I’ll shower in a few minutes, she thought.

  When she woke up, it was quarter to six.

  (43)

  Ava couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in her clothes. But it had been a terrific sleep, and she felt refreshed and bursting with energy. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she went into the kitchen to make coffee and check her laptop for messages.

  There was an email from Fai that read: Sorry I had to cut short our conversation, but there was bit of an uproar about the bus. Good luck today. Anxious to see you. Love, Fai

  We have a meeting at ten that will decide how the case ends. I’ll email you after it’s over to let you know how it went. Love, Ava

  There was nothing from Han, which didn’t surprise her. Like Xu, he was more comfortable using a phone than email. She riffled through the pages of her notebook, reconstructing the events that had led her to this point. Every journey was somehow both different and the same. The characters involved obviously changed from case to case, as did the locales and the scams that were perpetrated. But her methodology didn’t. She went methodically from A to B to C until she reached the end. Now it would come down to a confrontation, to a test of wills.

  Uncle’s style in meetings of this kind was to lead with news the other party didn’t want to hear, with no tiptoeing or easing into the meat of the subject. Ava wasn’t sure that was the best approach in this instance. The information on the whiteboards and the documents that supported it eliminated any doubt about what had happened. Should she use them to construct a spider web before offering Rogers and the others a way to escape it? Should she let them imagine outcomes that might be worse than what she would demand? No, she thought. It will be more effective to use Uncle’s strategy.

  Ava thought about calling Han and decided to wait. He had told her what he’d do. There was no reason to think he hadn’t done it and no sense in rushing into the morning. She made another coffee and then headed for the bathroom.

  She took a leisurely shower, washed and dried her hair, and laid out the clothes she’d wear to the meeting. She went into the kitchen to get a third coffee, saw it was just past seven, and decided it was time to call Han.

  “This is Han,” he said.

  “And this is Ava. How are things in Chengdu?”

  “Things are as you wanted them to be. Lu closed the warehouse today around four. The workers were sent home and told not to come back,” Han said.

  “Was there any resistance?”

  “Not from security, but Su Na kicked up a bit of a fuss until Lu explained everything to her.”

  “Are you at the warehouse now?”

  “I’m sitting in Su Na’s office. Do you want a word with her?”

  “Please.”

  There was a pause, and then Ava heard Su Na’s angry voice. “This is going too far. You won’t get away with this.”

  “Ms. Su, I’m going to be meeting with Pastor Rogers, Patrick Cunningham, and Malcolm Muir in a few hours. If they are reasonable, the warehouse will be allowed to reopen,” Ava said calmly. “Now, there is a way you can contribute to your business’s well-being. During the meeting I’m going to call you. I’ll put you on speakerphone so you can confirm that the warehouse is closed and that Han is capable of keeping it closed for as long as necessary.”

  “Listen, I know you have an issue with the Canadians, but why are you penalizing the Simmons operation? We’ve done nothing to you,” Su said. “If you let me reopen, I promise that I’ll ship only to the United States. In fact, I don’t care if I never ship to Canada again.”

  “That doesn’t work for me — I can’t separate them. The only reason the Canadians are there in the first place is that Simmons sponsored them.”

  “You’re going to make an enemy of the Simmons family.”

  “I couldn’t care less.”

  “How long am I going to be held here against my will?” Su Na asked.

  “If things go as I hope, you should be home by midnight,” Ava said. “But that doesn’t mean the warehouse can open tomorrow. Even if I get what I want, there will be loose ends to tie up, and that might take a day or two. Han will keep his men at the warehouse until everything is finalized.”

  “What if things don’t go as you hope?”

  “You’ll be out of business,” Ava said. “Now give the phone back to Han.”

  “Yes, Ava,” he said, seconds later.

  “My meeting is at ten. I’m going to call you after it starts so Su can confirm that the warehouse is closed. I told her she could leave around midnight, but you can let her go any time after the phone call,” Ava said.

  “We’ll wait until midnight in case you need her again,” Han said. “Lu will drive her home. It won’t hurt to see where she lives, in case we have to pay her a visit in the future.”

  Ava imagined Su’s reaction to that last remark. “It’s your call; I trust your judgement,” Ava said. “I’ll be in touch later.”

  She returned to the bedroom to dress. She had laid out black linen slacks, a snugly fitting white silk shirt, and a pair of black alligator pumps she’d bought in Hong Kong. When she was dressed, Ava applied lipstick, mascara, and her favourite Annick Goutal perfume, then pulled her hair back and fixed it with the ivory chignon pin. She examined herself in the mirror and thought she looked suitably dressed for battle. The only thing missing was her Tank Française watch, which she now slipped on.

  Ava gathered her papers and headed downstairs to meet Derek. She was five minutes early, but his Honda was already sitting at the curb.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked.

  “I fell asleep in my clothes, but I got a solid ten hours,” Ava said. “Did Mimi mind staying home from work this morning?”

  “Not when I told her we have a meeting that might result in her mother getting her money back,” Derek said as he drove towards Avenue Road. “I was tempted to tell her about the three million, but caution kicked in — I followed my own advice and didn’t. I was afraid I’d jinx us.”

  “You know I believe in jinxes.”

  “Oh, I know, though I don’t remember you having that much bad luck.”

  “That’s because I do everything I can to avoid jinxing myself,” Ava
said with a smile.

  The traffic heading downtown was heavy. Derek had the radio tuned to an all-news station that gave traffic reports every ten minutes. It was barely audible, so Ava reached for the screen on the dashboard and turned it up. The traffic volume they were experiencing was normal enough that it didn’t warrant a mention.

  Ava took out her notebook and began to leaf through it. Derek didn’t interrupt her, so they drove in silence to the parking lot he had used the day before. Fifteen minutes later they walked into the lobby of the Toronto Commonwealth Bank Building, and at eight-forty they were entering the offices of Howell, Barker, and Mason.

  Eddie Ng hurried to greet them. “Todd is in the boardroom. I’ve never seen him so revved up.”

  When they entered the boardroom, they saw Howell hunched over a pile of files. He smiled and said, “There’s coffee in the Thermos. Help yourselves.”

  “I’ve had enough coffee,” Ava said.

  “I’m fine,” said Derek.

  Ava and Derek sat next to each other across the table from Howell. She looked at the whiteboards and saw that sheets of paper had been rather raggedly taped over them. “Are the document packages ready?”

  “They are, but we’re only going to need one.”

  “Why?”

  “For starters, there won’t be any lawyers from the other side attending.”

  “I like that,” Ava said.

  “And only Cunningham is coming.”

  “I don’t like that.”

  “He phoned me late last night. Muir contacted him after your visit and reported what you had to say. Cunningham found your comments alarming, but there was no admission of guilt. In fact, he said he thought many of your remarks were libellous, and that Muir has grounds to charge you with assault. He said he was calling me because he assumed that you’re my client.”

  “Assault?” Eddie Ng said.

  “Muir claims that Ava knocked him out,” Howell said.

  “I knocked him to the ground when he tried to grab my arm.”

  “Believe me, if Ava had wanted to knock him out, he wouldn’t have been fit to talk to anyone last night,” Derek said.

  “That notwithstanding, what I’m trying to explain is that Cunningham didn’t sound the least bit worried. He was completely adversarial,” Howell said.

  “So why is he coming?” Ava asked.

  “He said he’s concerned about the reputation of the chapel, that he can’t sit idly by and allow someone to make wild accusations.”

  “He’s coming on a fishing expedition,” Ava said.

  “I agree. He was putting on an act. When I asked him if he’d bring legal counsel, he said he didn’t need a lawyer. I expect he’s coming to find out what we know. Once he does, their lawyers will emerge out of the woodwork.”

  “Why isn’t Muir coming?” Ava asked.

  “Cunningham said Muir has absolutely nothing to do with the chapel. He emphasized that after what he called ‘the regrettable series of events involving the Harvest Investment Fund,’ Harvest Table cut all ties with Muir.”

  “And why no Rogers?” asked Ava.

  “He said he didn’t want to cause the pastor any unnecessary alarm.”

  Ava looked at the covered whiteboards. “It seems we have a decision to make. Do we meet with Cunningham alone, or do we insist that all three of them attend?”

  “Cunningham reminded me that he’s the chief operating officer of the organization and has the authority to speak for it,” Howell said.

  “His is also the only name linked to LockBox through the companies he registered in the Isle of Man,” Eddie Ng said.

  “It’s true that we don’t have Rogers’s name attached to anything, and what we have on Muir is purchase orders and shipping instructions,” Ava said. “Maybe Cunningham is the money man.”

  “Then we should meet with him, don’t you think?” Howell asked.

  “Yes, but let’s not show him the whiteboards too soon. I’d like to hear what kind of lies he spins before we drop the hammer on him.”

  “Who’s going to question him?” Howell asked.

  “I will, as long as you don’t have any objections,” Ava said. “But I think you could start, by explaining that my involvement is related to the Harvest Investment Fund, that you’ve shared the information you have with me, and that we’ve been working together to identify where the money went.”

  “I have no objections, and I’ll be pleased to provide the background,” Howell said.

  Ava nodded, then turned to see a grey-haired man standing in the boardroom’s doorway.

  “Todd, can I speak to you for a minute?” he said.

  “This is Matt Mason, one of my partners,” Howell said to Ava as he rose from his chair and left the room.

  Howell rejoined them quickly.

  “Bad news?” asked Ava.

  “The opposite. The money you transferred from the bank in China has arrived in our company account.”

  Ava looked at Derek. “If you want to call Mimi now, I don’t mind.”

  “I think I’ll wait to tell her in person,” he said.

  “Congratulations,” Eddie Ng said.

  “I told Eddie what you’d done,” Howell said to Ava.

  “It’s a start,” she said. “But I want the rest of it.”

  A woman stepped into the room. “Mr. Howell, a Mr. Cunningham is here to see you.”

  Howell checked his watch. “He’s early.”

  (44)

  Patrick Cunningham was short — no more than five foot seven or eight — and skinny, and he had a buzz cut that made him look almost skeletal. His dark brown eyes were deeply recessed and even from a distance seemed intense. He wore jeans that looked expensive and a floral shirt that Ava guessed had been bought at Tommy Bahama. The casual clothes didn’t match his general demeanour.

  “Thank you for coming, Patrick,” Howell said, “It was good of you to travel all this way.”

  “I apologize for being early, but you never know how traffic is going to be in this city. I was lucky this morning,” he said in a voice that Ava found tinny but self-assured.

  “Let me introduce my colleagues,” Howell said.

  “If she’s Ava Lee, there’s no need,” Cunningham said as he pointed at Ava.

  “She is Ava Lee, so please take a seat,” Howell said. “Can we offer you something to drink?”

  “No, let’s get started,” Cunningham said.

  Howell started to speak, but Cunningham, leaning forward, cut him off. “You owe us an apology,” he barked at Ava.

  “I owe you what?” Ava asked, surprised by his sudden aggression.

  “You owe Pastor Sammy Rogers and Harvest Table Bible Chapel an apology,” he said. “I only hope the lies you told Malcolm Muir last night haven’t gone any further.”

  “Just one minute —” Howell said, only to be interrupted by Ava.

  “If this meeting is going to be contentious, let’s have at it,” she said to Cunningham.

  “By all means,” he said.

  “Fine. I think that for the past four or five years you’ve been partners with Malcolm Muir in thievery and drug dealing.”

  Cunningham looked at Howell. “You’re a witness to this libel.”

  “Technically it’s slander, but if it’s the truth, it’s not even that.”

  “I won’t sit here and listen to this nonsense,” Cunningham said loudly. “If she has proof of any of it, why hasn’t she gone to the authorities? Why is this meeting necessary?”

  “I’ll answer those questions. If you want details, it will take longer,” Ava said.

  “Keep it short.”

  “Good. Eddie, could you uncover the first whiteboard, please,” Ava said.

  Ava saw that Cunningham was trying not to stare at Eddie as he peeled
the paper from the board. When it was visible, she said, “The people named on that board conspired to steal more than thirty million dollars from members of your congregation by using the Harvest Investment Fund as a front. The money was converted into diamonds and then back into cash, which was used to buy synthetic drugs from a lab in Chengdu, China. Those drugs were made available to people in this country through a number of websites and distributed through a warehouse in Chengdu. The stolen money and the profits it accrued were then used to pay down the mortgage on the Harvest Table Bible Chapel buildings and land — and to line several pockets, of which one was yours. There, Mr. Cunningham, you have your summary.”

  His face had paled during her recital, and the fingers of his right hand were drumming the table. But when he spoke he sounded under control. “What I see is a bunch of names on a board with lines connecting them,” he said.

  “Unveil the next board please, Eddie,” Ava said, and tapped the folder she had in front of her. “We have transaction records from all the banks noted on this board. We’ve met with Jasmine Yip, Su Na, and the Yang brothers at Golden Emperor MicroLab. They were all co-operative. We have copies of purchase orders issued to the lab by Malcolm Muir and copies of shipping orders he sent to the warehouse. What else do you want to know?”

  She watched Cunningham’s face as she listed the facts. His attention was partly on her, but he couldn’t resist looking at the second whiteboard.

  Cunningham looked at Howell and her, then shook his head. “As I told Mr. Howell last night, Malcolm Muir has nothing to do with the chapel. We’ve severed all ties with him. It’s true he may have orchestrated the theft of the money you mentioned, but Mr. Howell pursued that and came to a dead end. I also know that Mr. Howell approached the authorities and couldn’t convince them to take up the case. So as far as I’m concerned, what you’re doing here is trying to revive a dead horse.”

  “Two of the websites selling drugs are registered to a numbered company that’s in your name,” Howell said.

  “Muir is a devious fellow,” Cunningham said. “I wouldn’t put anything past him, including using my name.”