A Million Reasons

by Mark David Abbott

  “I know you started importing G.B.L to keep the company and yourself in cash flow. I also know you’ve had your last few shipments seized. So you panicked. You heard about David’s gambling debts, so you came up with a plan to frame him and take over his share of the company. You and your friend Inspector Wong. Am I right?”

  Peter shook his head. “Rubbish,” he scoffed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I am an honest businessman, and Inspector Wong, when he gets hold of you, will ensure you are locked up for a very long time.”

  John smiled. “I don’t think Inspector Wong will be making use of this planet’s resources anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Peter’s facial expression changed as realization slowly dawned on him. His jaw dropped open. “You killed him? A police officer?”

  “From what I hear, Peter, your friend Joseph was a disgrace to the uniform he wore. I don’t think the Hong Kong Police Force will miss him.”

  Peter finally slumped in his chair, all trace of the confident wheeler-dealer gone. He stared at the floor for a while before looking up at John

  “So, you have it all figured out?”

  “Most of it Peter. But one thing I do want to ask. Why me?”

  Peter didn’t answer for a while as if he hadn’t heard the question. When he spoke, it wasn’t much more than a whisper, and John had to strain to hear him.

  “It was Joseph’s idea. We bribed someone at the bank for your personal records.”

  “But why me?”

  Peter looked up slowly. “You were just a random person with an overdraft. We didn’t choose you. The bank staff gave us a file. It just happened to be you.”

  John looked away and breathed a sigh of relief. His secret was still safe. This had nothing to do with Bangalore. He looked back at the man whose greed had been the cause of a week of fear and confusion.

  “So you thought you could screw up my life? Just like that?”

  Peter shrugged. He had no answer.

  “Why didn't you sell the boat? Your cars?”

  “You don't understand, John,” Peter shook his head. “If I did that, my competitors, the banks, my suppliers... they would all swoop in like vultures. It would finish me.”

  John stood up and paced around the room, Peter’s eyes following him.

  “What are you going to do? Call the police?”

  John paused and turned back to face Peter. He narrowed his eyes and thought for a moment.

  “Well, here’s the thing, Peter. I’ve suddenly got a million dollars in my account, and I like the feeling of that. If I involve the police, I’ll have to give the money back. It’s evidence.”

  Peter’s face lit up, seeing a way out.

  “John, I’ll double it. I’ll give you whatever you want. Take one of the Porsches.”

  John walked back over to stand in front of Peter, waving the Glock at him.

  “I don’t think, Peter, you are in any position to be making any offers right now. I don’t believe anything you say anymore, and besides, I’m sure you’ve already borrowed against all your assets. I doubt you truly own anything outright.”

  “No, John, I mean it. Look in the bag. There’s cash in there. Take it. Keep it. Just let me go. I will never bother you again.”

  “Is that right?”

  John’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he removed it with his left hand, and glanced at the screen. He slipped it back into his pocket and grinned at Peter.

  “Anyway, it’s not me you have to worry about now.”

  “What do you mean?” Peter looked puzzled.

  His eyes darted toward the door as the black-clad Thapa and Tejpal walked in and stood beside John. Peter looked at them both, then back at John.

  “I’ll give money to them, too.” He looked first at Thapa, then Tejpal. “How much do you want?” Neither man spoke as Tejpal slid the Khukuri from the leather sheath fastened to his waist, the blade gleaming in the lamplight. Peter’s eyes widened in panic.

  “I’ll give you anything you want.”

  “I told you, it’s not us you need to worry about.”

  Peter looked back and forth between the three in confusion.

  “Then who?”

  A movement at the door caught his eye. Ronald’s two men from the Alphard walked in and padded softly toward them, silent as cats.

  “Who are they?” Peter’s eyes flicked from them to John and back again as he watched them line up in front of him and cross their tattooed arms on their chests, their faces hard and expressionless.

  John smiled. “Wait and see.”

  They all heard movement, and John watched Peter’s face as his eyes darted toward the door. For the first time, he saw real fear on Peter’s face as he recognized the man walking in. John didn’t turn, just waited as the sound of slow footsteps and the rhythmic tap of a cane drew nearer.

  Peter’s lip quivered, all signs of confidence and bluster having left him.

  “Peter, I think you know Mr. Yu. Thapa, Mr. Rai, why don’t we give these fine gentlemen some space so they can get reacquainted?”

  John turned and smiled at Ronald. Ronald placed a hand on John’s arm and nodded, then moved past him and slowly eased himself down on the sofa. John looked back at Peter, his face hard.

  “This will teach you not to play with people’s lives.”

  He handed the Glock to Ronald’s man, turned and walked toward the door, Tejpal and Thapa following behind. John picked up the sports bag as he walked out. Just before he reached the door, he heard Peter cry out.

  “Wait.”

  John looked back over his shoulder.

  “Who are you, really?”

  John turned and smiled. “I thought you knew that Peter. I’m John Hayes.”

  42

  John took a sip of his masala chai, then placed the steel cup onto the Formica-topped table in front of him. He looked at the men sitting opposite him and smiled.

  “I want to thank you both for everything you have done. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “What are friends for John?” Thapa grinned. “Besides, I think my father really enjoyed himself. Didn’t you, Papa?”

  “Civilian life can get a bit boring, John. I haven’t had as much fun since I left the service,” Tejpal chuckled.

  A small plump lady approached the table with a plate of steaming mo-mos.

  “John, I would like to introduce you to my mother.” John pushed back his chair and stood, pressing his hands together in front of his chest.

  “Namaste.”

  She smiled shyly, placed the plate on the table, then retreated quickly to the kitchen.

  The cafe was empty, the normally bustling streets of Yau Ma Tei quiet at that time of night. John looked around the room at the pictures of the Himalayas on the walls and the small temple of Mahakali on the rear wall, smoke from the twin incense sticks spiraling lazily toward the ceiling. He felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach, the surroundings reminding him too much of India and Charlotte. He snapped himself out of it and reached down for the bag at his feet, placing it on his lap and unzipping it.

  Inside was a change of clothes, a passport and four bundles of US dollars. He stacked the bundles on the table as Tejpal and Thapa watched. Placing the bag back on the floor, John then pushed a bundle each in front of Tejpal and Thapa.

  “I want you to have this.”

  Thapa protested, but John stopped him.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you. You saved my life.”

  Thapa looked at his father who nodded back at him.

  “Thank you, John,” Thapa grinned. “Let us know when we can help you again.”

  John laughed. “I hope I never have to ask you again! Now, let me try one of these mo-mos. I’m starving.”

  The three men sipped tea and finished the mo-mos in silence.

  “Oh, wait.” Thapa jumped up and went out the back. He returned with the bag from the boat, a big grin on his face, passing it over to John. “We f
orgot about this one.”

  “Well, why not,” John smiled and added the cash from the bag to the piles on the table. “Now, do you have anything stronger than Chai?”

  Thapa and his father grinned at each other.

  “Raksi!” they both exclaimed.

  43

  Monday

  The car was waiting as the message had said it would, the black Alphard from the stakeout on Saturday. John walked off the ferry with all the other Monday morning commuters and up the ramp to the road. The side door slid open as he approached, and he looked inside. It was empty apart from the driver, one of Ronald’s tattooed enforcers, looking back from the front seat. John nodded a greeting, and the man nodded back, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile but wasn’t sure if he should. He climbed in, made himself comfortable, and the door slid quietly closed behind him.

  John had slept most of Sunday, but he was still tired, his nervous system taxed by the strain of the previous week. Staying up until three a.m., drinking Raksi with Thapa and his father, Tejpal, hadn’t helped either, but they had needed to blow off steam and relax after Saturday’s events.

  He settled back in the seat and closed his eyes as the Alphard eased its way through the morning traffic. He assumed they were heading to Ronald’s house on The Peak, but ten minutes later, when he realized they hadn’t started climbing, he opened his eyes and saw they were passing the Happy Valley Racecourse and headed for the Aberdeen Tunnel, taking them underneath Mount Parker to the southern side of the Island. He shrugged and watched the scenery pass as he thought about what he should do next. With his share of the cash he had found in the bags and the million Hong Kong dollars already in his account, he had almost half a million U.S. dollars. He didn’t need to work for a while, and indeed, he didn’t want to go back to working in an office. The mind-numbing boredom of the previous year held no appeal. Once again, he would set off for new pastures and make a fresh start.

  Once through the tunnel, the car headed past Ocean Park, then turned left, following the signs for the Aberdeen Marina. John smiled, he had an idea where they were heading. The Alphard pulled up outside the marina entrance, and the side door slid open, letting in a blast of hot air. The driver looked back and nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching again. John smiled.

  “M goi sai leh, thank you very much.”

  The driver’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and he nodded again, this time both sides of his mouth twitching. John seemed to be making progress.

  He climbed out, the heat and humidity an immediate contrast to the chilled interior of the Alphard. He stretched his back and looked around. It was too early for the queues to start forming for the Jumbo Restaurant, and the street was quiet. The sky overhead was cloudless and blue, and in the trees lining the footpath, mynahs squawked and squabbled as they started their day. John stepped onto the dock and followed the path around the edge of the marina until he reached the pontoon for the larger motor yachts. He walked to the end and looked up at the sleek black hull of the Pegasus.

  Had it only been two days ago he had been tied up in the cabin, his life in danger? How quickly things can change. He narrowed his eyes against the glare from the sun reflecting off the water and the surrounding white hulled yachts and looked closer at the boat. The tender was still missing, but a pile of shoes waited on the dock. He slipped off his own and climbed the short flight of steps onto the rear deck. As he approached the door to the saloon, it slid open, and one of Ronald’s black-clad enforcers stepped out. He nodded at John, no trace of a smile, and with a jerk of his head, indicated John should step inside. John paused, studied the man’s face for a moment, then stepped into the saloon. The door slid shut behind him, and he was immediately chilled by the air-conditioned interior, his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his skin.

  “John, welcome. Thank you for coming.”

  Ronald Yu sat at the dining table at the end of the saloon, David Yu standing nervously beside him.

  “Good morning.”

  “Please, come and take a seat. Will you have some tea?”

  “Yes, thank you.” John pulled out a chair and sat down as a man John hadn’t seen before, wearing a polo shirt with “Pegasus” embroidered on the left breast, placed a small porcelain cup in front of John and proceeded to fill it with tea.

  John waited, then raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. It was earthy and dark. “Mmm, this one is different from the other day.”

  “Yes, John. This is Pu-Errh. A fermented tea from Yunnan in South West China. Good for digestion.”

  “I like it.” He took another sip, set the cup down on the table, and looked at Ronald and David expectantly.

  “Have you read the newspaper this morning, John?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Ronald looked up at David and nodded. David picked up a copy of the South China Morning Post from the galley countertop and slid it across the table in front of John.

  John looked down at the newspaper and read the headline stretched across the front page.

  Peter Croft, Chairman of Pegasus Land, found dead.

  John raised an eyebrow, glanced up at Ronald, and went back to reading.

  “Property developer and philanthropist, Peter Croft was found dead at his home on Sunday evening. His body was found at the foot of the slope beneath his pool deck by a domestic helper when she returned home to find the house unlocked and the doors to the pool deck open. Police are investigating, but a spokesman said all signs point to an apparent suicide. Mr. Croft’s estranged wife, currently in Singapore, was not available for comment.”

  John sat back in his chair and regarded Ronald Yu, the elderly man’s face giving nothing away.

  “That is unfortunate. He didn’t strike me as the suicidal type.”

  “No, but one never truly knows the inner workings of another’s mind. I would imagine, John, the truth will come out in the next few days. The public will no doubt learn about his considerable personal debts and the stress he has been under with the collapse of his marriage.”

  John looked at David, “And your son?”

  “My son, John, has promised to make a fresh start. Haven’t you, son?” Ronald looked sternly up at David who nodded. “No more gambling for him, and besides, he has a property company to take care of. Now that Peter has sadly left us, my son will need to take a much more active role. Under my strict supervision, of course.”

  “Of course.” John smiled at David, “You will do well.”

  David smiled back nervously. “Thank you, John.”

  A flicker of irritation passed across Ronald’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

  “And you, John, what are your plans now? I could use a resourceful man like you in my organization.”

  John sighed, leaned back in his chair, and gazed out the window as a sampan chugged slowly past.

  “That's a kind offer, Mr. Yu, but I am going to take a break. Maybe travel a bit. I need some peace and quiet in my life for a while. After that, who knows?”

  Ronald nodded slowly.

  “You saved my son’s reputation and possibly his life, John. He has disappointed me in many ways, but he is family, and I will forever be indebted to you. My offer stands, and if you ever need anything in the future, you know where I am. The money in the sports bag probably won’t keep you going for very long.”

  John looked up in surprise as Ronald looked back with a trace of amusement. He waved his hand.

  “Keep it. You earned it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Yu.” John looked around the interior of the boat. “What will happen to this? Will you keep it?”

  “I like to run a tight ship, John, if you will pardon the expression. This boat is an unnecessary expense. I will sell it and reinvest the money into the company.”

  Ronald reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver card case. He removed a cream-colored business card and slid it across the table.

  “Here are my numbers,
John. Remember, I am just a phone call away.”

  John looked from Ronald to David and back again.

  “Thank you both very much.”

  44

  Three months later

  John waded to the edge of the pool, pulled himself out of the water, walking across to the sun lounger to pick up his towel. As he dried himself, he looked around at the other guests. Next to him, an overweight middle-aged couple turned red in the sun while their child played with a water pistol. Across the pool, a young lady in a red bikini tried to catch his attention with a smile, but he ignored her. He still wasn’t ready. He toweled himself down and pulled on a shirt. His skin was deeply tanned, and daily runs and swims in the resort's pool had stripped away the excess fat. It had been three months since he left his life in Hong Kong and flown straight to Bangkok, but after a couple of days in the frenetic city, he craved somewhere quieter. He had worked his way along the coast—Pattaya, Hua Hin, and many lesser-known beach-side towns—before jumping on a boat to the island of Koh Samui where he spent the past couple of months. He loved the island. It was quieter than its better-known counterpart, Phuket on the west coast of Thailand and was just what he needed after the stress and strain of the events involving Peter Croft. Eventually, though, he would need to find work. He was managing his funds carefully, but they wouldn’t last forever.

  Slipping on his flip-flops, he walked between the cabins to his room. As he passed the open-sided, thatched roof reception, he smiled and waved at Tony, the resort manager.

  “Sawasdee krup.”

  “Sawasdee krup, Khun John. I have a package for you. It came this morning.”

  John frowned. No-one knew he was here. He walked toward the reception desk and took the manila envelope. It was addressed to John Hayes, but had no indication where it had come from.