Don nodded. He took his hand back and stood up. “Okay, well I’m gonna take a shower.”
Julia stood with him, wrapped her arms around him, hugging him hard. He felt her breasts against his body. She looked up into his eyes and kissed him again. “Don’t worry. By Saturday evening, the future will look a lot rosier.”
Don heard her gathering the breakfast things as he climbed the stairs. He walked into the bedroom, closed the door and leaned back against it.
That fucking bitch.
She was lying to him. Had been since the start. If the cash was to be laundered through the business, then Mr Sun had known about the deal all along. You can’t hide a spare ten million from your business partner. Julia had told him that Sun killed Fong because of the money he took from the business. But Sun and Fong must’ve been in it together. What happened next? Maybe Sun just got greedy and double-crossed his partner. He’d reckoned without the widow, though.
But why would she lie about something like that? Maybe she didn’t want it to sound too complicated, trying to convince Don to come aboard. Or maybe she didn’t want to put the idea of a double-cross into his head. Would he still have got involved knowing that the murder was so directly connected?
She hadn’t told him about the gun, or the money being in a locker. And she’d tried to rip off the Americans. At least there was one thing he knew for certain.
He couldn’t trust the widow as far as he could toss her.
63
He thought about Saturday, how it might go down.
It would certainly help to have two of them there, just to move the cash as fast as they could. It would also be safer to have one person to watch his back. He just wished it wasn’t the widow. And then he didn’t know what he was going to do with the dollars. Can’t walk into a bank with that kind of cash in plastic bags and ask them to change it. Fuck! He hadn’t thought this through at all.
She was reading on the sofa. Passing the time. He couldn’t trust her. But hadn’t he known that from the start?
She looked a little better. The bruising around her eye was fading, so that you couldn’t even tell from a distance. The split lip was better, but still showed.
Even with the bruises and the lip, she was stunning. Her hair was up, and the dress showed off her neckline and the shape of her body. What would they do after they’d split the money? Say goodbye, or celebrate together? One last fuck and go their separate ways? Or would she ask him to stay? He didn’t know anymore. Not after the last week.
She looked up from the book. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“I was just thinking, about the money. If it can’t go through the business anymore, what are we gonna do with all that cash? American dollars, as well. How are we gonna change them?”
She placed the book on the coffee table, stared into the cover as if she could divine an answer there. “I was thinking about that. It’s a problem. Alex had some friends, from the Country Club. Not everyone in that place is a fine, upstanding member of the community. I think they’ll be able to help. But they’ll want a cut, of course. We’re just going to have to take a hit, I’m afraid.”
‘We’. So she was still thinking in terms of the two of them, together, after the deal. It was an idea. They could try an off the books deal with a change bureau, but none of them would be able to handle that much cash. Going to a number of places pushed up the interest rates and the risk. Uncle Wang might just have the clout and the contacts. But Wang was a cunt and the Brothers had already stiffed him on the two million. It was the best idea yet. “Then why don’t you go ahead and set it up.”
She smiled. “I will. But let’s get our hands on the cash, first.”
64
‘But oh! shipmates! on the starboard hand of every woe, there is a sure delight; and higher the top of that delight, than the bottom of the woe is deep.’
That was true enough. Don had thrown away everything he had, but only to gain more than he ever thought he could hold. He had bet all his ring money on Hong Kong, lost the lot. Now he had staked his job, Jeannie, his apartment, everything on this deal. He had nothing left. But the winnings waiting for him were this house, a beautiful woman, more money than he’d seen in his lifetime. The world owed him something by now. He was gonna make sure it paid up this time.
Yawning, he put the book down. Might as well take it easy, catch some sleep while he could. Saturday would be busy. He was just lying down when he heard the buzzing sound. It was quiet, but coming from nearby. Then it clicked, it was his old phone. He went to the wardrobe and searched through the pockets of his jacket, pulled out his mobile. He didn’t recognise the number but it was Hong Kong. Jeannie? He didn’t know too many others who might want to phone him.
“Hello?”
“Mr Jacobs. I think we need to talk.”
It took a few seconds. Then he knew it, the man he had been thinking about just this morning. Sun Wen-long.
“Mr Jacobs?”
“I’m here.” It didn’t seem enough. “What do you want?”
“I think we should meet, don’t you?”
“If you’ve got something to say, you can say it now.”
“Well, I’d rather talk in person, Mr Jacobs. I am assuming that you have the gold tablets in your possession, and are preparing to sell them on. But I also assume that by now you’ve realised one very important fact.”
“What would that be?”
“That you cannot trust Julia Lam.”
Don didn’t reply straight away. Of course, that only told Mr Sun that he was right. “Why shouldn’t I trust her?” Too little, too late.
“I think we should meet, Mr Jacobs. To discuss things.”
Don thought about it for a second. He also knew he couldn’t trust Mr Sun. But if there was something the old guy had to tell him, some important information, could he afford not to?
“Where?”
“You name the time and place, Mr Jacobs, and I’ll be there. However, as I’m sure you are aware, time is running short.”
Don heard a floorboard creaking on the stairs. Julia, still padding barefoot about the house. He hung up, and she walked into the room.
“There you are.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I was wondering where you’d got to.” She pulled herself tight up against him. “And in the bedroom. You must have read my mind.” She kissed him again. Those lips.
Don pulled away. He held up the phone as a reason, or a shield. “That was my mate, Jonny. I have to meet him.”
“Can’t Jonny wait?”
“I said I would. He needs a hand with something. Don’t worry, I shouldn’t be too long.”
Don pulled his jacket from the wardrobe and slipped it over his shoulders. He gave Julia a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, yeah?” And then he was out the door, still clutching the phone, and on his way downstairs.
65
He rang back the number Sun had called from, told him the time and the place, hung straight up. At least he should hear what the old guy had to say. And maybe find out how much he knew at the same time. What if Sun tried to intervene? Well, he’d deal with that if and when. He’d made sure to meet in a public place. He already knew that Sun was capable of murder, didn’t want to give him any chances. And if Sun tried to interfere? Well, fuck Sun. If he wants to play rough then he’ll get what’s coming to him.
He strode quickly downhill, glad for some exercise and fresh air. With the swing of his stride he noticed a weight in his jacket and reached into the pocket. His fingers closed around something cold and heavy. The widow’s gun.
Walking around Hong Kong with a loaded revolver in his pocket. That was a great career move. He remembered the motel room, taking it along with the other bits and pieces. Still, nothing much he could do about it now. At least it was small enough to not make too much of a bulge.
Down into the subway station, a short queue and a ticket from the machine. Don hadn’t been down here in ages. He quite li
ked it. The smell reminded him of London. All subways reminded him of London, of taking the District Line to school or going to clubs in town, taking the northern line up to Camden. The train was empty enough at this time of day. He could have sat down but chose to stand in the corner, his big hand grasping the strap overhead.
On his way to school, and especially on the way back, there’d always been a group of them, joking and pushing each other. Dicking around, checking out the girls from the private schools in their little uniforms. And watching out for kids from other schools up the way in case they wanted to start something. It seemed so very long ago, another world. It was, in a way. It all was.
The train rumbled through a couple of stations until he had to change to a busier line, crowded in amongst the shoppers, tourists, a few businessmen and women. Being taller helped, here. It meant he didn’t have to put up with someone’s hair or armpit in his face. Didn’t help with the smell of people though.
The long tunnel under the bay, and then he was off the train and up the steps. Warm subway breeze greeted him at the entrance to the station. He turned the corner and headed north. Kowloon Park was a big place. Don had told Mr Sun to meet him on the bridge over the bird lake. He checked his phone. Still five minutes to go.
He didn’t want to be early and he didn’t want to arrive before Sun. He walked further up than he needed to, past the clothing stores and then up steep steps to the park above. Around the amphitheatre he smoked a cigarette on the stone steps. A couple of homeless were nearby, smoking butts and sipping cans of strong lager. A handful of people strode past, carrying coffee, newspapers, briefcases, backpacks for the tourists. You could always tell the tourists. He stepped on the end of his cigarette. Time to see what Mr Sun had to say.
The bird lake was an odd, elongated shape with a number of small artificial islands where the birds could rest, safe from passers-by. Flamingos paddled about. Don spotted Sun Wen-Long easily. He was in the centre of the bridge, leaning against the green railing, looking out over the lake like anyone else with time on their hands.
66
Being on the run hadn’t changed him. He had the hunched over stance that made him look ten years older, the spectacles, the jacket with padded elbows that made him look like an elderly professor of ancient history. Some tourists, a young couple, were wandering slowly past taking pictures of the birds. Otherwise it was clear. Just Mr Sun, Don and the pink flamingos. Don strode out, leaned against the railing a couple of feet from the now former antique dealer. The man currently wanted for the murder of Alexander Fong.
“I’m glad you could make it, Mr Jacobs.”
Don waited for the couple to move on. “Just say what you want to say.”
“Very well, Mr Jacobs. Straight to the point. I like that about you.”
Melodramatic old fool. “Well get on with it. I don’t have much time.”
“I’m sure by now you’re quite aware of the official story regarding Mr Fong’s murder.”
“Don’t try to get out of that one, Sun. I’m not the police and I don’t care, so you might as well tell the truth.”
“I have nothing to gain from lying to you, Mr Jacobs. The simple fact is that I didn’t kill him.”
“I read the news. Your prints were at the scene.”
“My prints, I think you’ll find, were on the weapon and the photographs. Of course if you were to go to the shop I’m sure you could find any number of old weapons with my fingerprints on them in the upstairs storeroom. They were one of my specialities.”
Of course, like the pearl-handled pistol. If that had come from the store, what else might Julia have picked up? He put his hand in his pocket and felt the smooth pearl and etched metal under his fingers.
“Are you trying to tell me it was Julia? That she killed her own husband?”
Sun didn’t answer that.
“If the weapon came from the store, then why should I believe it was her, not you?”
“A valid point, Mr Jacobs. And my fingerprints on the photographs must have been quite evidence enough for the police.”
“You were the one who hired me to follow him. You knew what kind of photos I’d turn up.”
“That much is true. The plain fact of the matter is that Alex had announced his intention to leave. He had set up a number of similar deals, of which this current caper was by far the largest, but he wanted out. He wanted out of the business and his marriage. He had been offered a new position, at one of the banks on the island. Of course, neither Julia nor I could afford to let him walk away.”
“Why not? You had the money coming from the deal, didn’t you?”
“True. But there would be no further revenue for me from that stream. And if he took his money out of the business then things might have become extremely tight for me.”
“So you hoped to blackmail him into staying.”
“Quite. I didn’t care about his marriage but I did want him to stay as a partner, and to continue to arrange these little bonuses. Julia, however, would be left with practically nothing if he divorced her. Deal or no deal, their legitimate finances were in a hole. She would likely see nothing of the black market money. Perhaps a token pay-off. The house would be sold and after paying off debts she would be left with very little. She would be thrown out onto the street. Or worse, back to her family. On the other hand, if he were to die before the divorce, then she would keep everything, including half of the ten million.”
“And she used the pictures to make it look like suicide.”
“Yes. That was a genuine effort, I believe. The pictures were her idea. I intended to use them for blackmail against his taking a position at the bank. Julia must have guessed that the homophobic police force would accept the photos as a legitimate reason for killing himself. Whether that’s a reasonable assumption these days, I couldn’t say. Unfortunately, the police also happen to have some rather competent detectives.”
“So she didn’t mean to set you up.”
“No, apparently not. However, while I’m sure she was careful about her own fingerprints it seems she was not so careful about mine.”
“So she gets him to make the arrangements, then bumps him off? And when the cops pin it on you and you disappear, she finds herself having to handle the whole affair on her own.”
“That seems to be the size of it, Mr Jacobs. So she gets scared and calls you in as back-up. And I presume you have been successful thus far?”
Don ignored the question. He wasn’t about to tell Sun anything. “Even if I believed your version. Even if I did. Why are you telling me?”
Sun hesitated, looking out over the lake. A woman in a business suit walked over the bridge, passing behind them. Sun waited until she was well away before continuing. “Because she killed her husband, Mr Jacobs. There is a big difference between five million and ten million, especially when you have a house and shopping habits like hers. It is all rather expensive to maintain. She killed her own husband for money. What makes you think you can trust her?”
“What makes you think I’ll trust you?”
“Because if you trust me, Mr Jacobs, and come in with me on the deal…” Two more tourists, a pair of mainland Chinese girls marching over the bridge with a small suitcase on wheels, “…I guarantee you fifty percent, either immediately in American money, or over time in Hong Kong dollars. The money would be most useful in my current predicament, and I wouldn’t make the mistake of losing it all by trying to double-cross a partner. I can’t afford that risk. You know I can’t.”
Don thought about it. Sun’s story fit together nicely. It did make sense. And he knew he couldn’t trust the widow. The very fact that the old man knew about the deal confirmed part of it.
Sun continued. “You hold the gold tablets, Mr Jacobs. You hold all the cards, and must choose a side. But if I were to betray you, you can always give me up to the police. I have everything to lose. This makes me dependent on your silence, and therefore trustworthy.”
There’s
different kinds of silence, Don thought but didn’t say. Alex Fong is pretty silent right now. “I could always give Julia up to the police.”
“Yes, but why would they believe you? I am already wanted, a simple anonymous call would suffice. A tip-off as to my whereabouts. Whereas I don’t believe there to be a shred of evidence against her, I’m afraid. I’m sure she has a watertight alibi arranged. She’s quite devious, you know.”
Yes, Don knew that alright. But then, Mr Sun hadn’t given him anything concrete either. How could he trust either of them? He turned to walk away. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t take too long, Mr Jacobs. One hour. You have one hour to let me know your response.”
Don faced the old man. “Or what?”
Mr Sun smiled. “Or all bets are off, Mr Jacobs.”
Don felt the pistol under his fingers. The handle was smooth and cold. He could quite easily shoot Mr Sun where he stood. The police would come and find a wanted murderer dead in the park. They wouldn’t ask too many questions. There was nothing linking Mr Sun to Don, anyway.
No. That’s not what would happen. The two men were linked by the photographs. In reality, the police would come and find ten witnesses describing a distinctive English ex-pat fleeing the scene. And that would put a stop to all his plans real quick. Another woman was approaching from behind Mr Sun. Don spun and walked away, his hand still on the gun in his pocket.
67
Another short tube ride, a five minute walk. Don picked up the car from near the Americans’ motel where he had left it. No problems. What was anyone going to steal? His Oasis CD? He turned the key in the ignition and the stereo came on mid-song.
All Blood is Red Page 14