Amanda opened all the toilet doors – ignoring the ‘male only’ sign – to examine her options, but no help there either. There was no window; not even a mouse could have escaped through the small air grilles.
There was one option left, her only chance.
Geoffrey
Geoffrey woke up, worried. He felt ill at ease, a strange and decidedly unpleasant feeling. An undercurrent lingered in his mind even after he had downed his first cup of strong coffee, which usually did miracles to kickstart him. Since Amanda had arrived his life had turned into a rollercoaster of emotions, upsetting his usual carefree bachelor routine.
He had to face the truth: he had fallen in love with Amanda – very much against his firm intentions. Geoffrey found the mere idea very irritating. Hadn’t he always cherished his tranquil bachelor life and the freedom that came with it? As one friend after another got married he had always prided himself of having avoided walking into such a trap. A random girlfriend from time to time, what better life could a man ask for? And now here he was, love-stricken and given to romantic fantasies like a silly schoolboy.
To make things even more complicated, Geoffrey wasn’t sure at all if Amanda was receptive to his feelings. She remained a riddle to him – maybe that was part of her attraction, that fact that she almost avoided his attentions. Worst of all, her former boyfriend Daniel had turned up out of the blue and one didn’t need to be blind to understand how attractive the guy must appear to the opposite sex. Daniel had everything that Mother Nature could possibly endow on a man: looks, sex appeal, money and wit. A true heavyweight as a competitor, a nightmare.
And then there had been the worrying string of accidents, the prelude to a deadly killing spree. He swallowed hard thinking about his friend David lying either in a hospital, kept alive by tubes and machines, or worse, in a cold morgue. Geoffrey remembered their discussion last night and he only now fully realized that it was Amanda who had given them the key to unravel these murders. He must talk with her again, urgently, and involve the police. Last night her story had sounded a bit fantastic, but in the light of day it made perfect sense. One – or maybe two – of the waiters must have infiltrated the party with a false identity, the lethal weapon probably hidden somewhere among the catering equipment. As tons of chafing dishes, plates and buffet tables had been moved into the garden, most of it made from stainless steel, no wonder the dogs and detectors had failed to detect anything unusual. The plan had been as ingenious as it had been simple.
He must call Amanda immediately; they had to act, now. Quickly he strode to his bedroom but the phone wasn’t there. Geoffrey frowned and tried to remember where he might have left it yesterday, it had all been so chaotic.
He couldn’t wait; he would drive over to Amanda’s hotel and meet her. They would call the police together; they mustn’t waste a further second. He remembered he had probably left his phone in the car anyhow.
He showered, sat down for breakfast and listened for any sign from Susan and Neil, but his friends must still be sleeping like logs. All was quiet, although the hand of the clock in the kitchen was creeping towards one o’clock already. Time to move; he couldn’t wait any longer.
Geoffrey left Susan and Neil a short note on the kitchen table and only five minutes later his car was roaring along the coastal road towards the Intercontinental. Luckily neither the police nor the usual crowd of weekend drivers slowed him down; Hong Kong was still in the grip of slumber following the New Year’s Eve festivities. Beating all known records Geoffrey reached Amanda’s hotel.
‘Can you call Miss Liptons’s room, please? It’s urgent.’
Miss Lipton must be enjoying VIP status as the clerk didn’t hesitate a second to reconfirm her name; immediately he took the phone and called her room.
‘I’m sorry, sir, Miss Lipton isn’t answering the phone.’
Geoffrey’s stomach contracted as if a solid lump of rubber was forming inside.
‘I have to speak to her, it’s really very urgent!’ he exclaimed.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not allowed to disturb our guests. You’ll need to wait until she comes down, but I could leave a message.’
‘I know the rules. The hotel manager is a friend – can I talk to him please?’
‘I’ll see if I can disturb him, whom may I say?’ The clerk looked downright suspicious by now. Geoffrey realized he must look totally out of place dressed in his old jeans and an old polo shirt he had grabbed this morning from his wardrobe.
‘Geoffrey McPherson, or better tell him Geoffrey from the Royal Yacht Club is here.’
The clerk’s attitude changed slightly, the mention of the Royal Yacht Club producing the desired effect. Geoffrey saw him whispering into the phone and after the call he became deferential. ‘The manager will come down immediately, sir. I apologize for keeping you waiting but we have our procedures to respect.’
‘I know, don’t worry.’
The hotel manager was true to his word and he appeared in the lobby almost immediately, the kind of well-groomed gentleman who blended perfectly into the framework of one of Hong Kong’s best hotels.
‘Hi Phil, you’re my saviour, sorry for disturbing you.’
‘Don’t bother, Geoffrey, what’s up? It must be urgent, I guess. I hope it’s nothing to do with David Li – we’re all in shock here. This hotel is his property, as you may know.’
Geoffrey made a sign to move away from the clerk who appeared to be burning with curiosity whilst pretending to be busy with some filing.
‘You must give me access to the room of David’s guest, Amanda Lipton, Phil. She returned yesterday evening and I can’t contact her. I’m terribly worried. She may have witnessed something very important about the shooting at the party yesterday.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘I’m not in the mood – do you have a key?’
‘Of course, I can enter every room. I’ll do it for you, Geoffrey, but if that’s the end of my career here, you find me a new job.’
‘Promised, Phil, don’t worry.’
Silently they entered the lift and walked along the thick carpets until they reached Amanda’s suite. Phil knocked at the door and called her name but there was no reply. He knocked and called her name again but only silence answered. Uttering a deep sigh he inserted his key card and they entered the suite. Moving cautiously and calling her name they checked room by room but they found the suite abandoned, no sign of Amanda anywhere.
‘Did she leave a message?’ Geoffrey was close to despair.
Phil dialled the operator and interrogated her until he exclaimed, ‘That’s interesting, repeat it, please.’
Phil put down the phone, and his usual florid complexion had turned pale. ‘Miss Lipton didn’t leave a message but somebody called using your name, Geoffrey. Unluckily they deleted the message, but the operator remembered it was about a lunch appointment in an Italian restaurant.’
Geoffrey felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. ‘That’s why she left, she was expecting to meet me,’ he groaned.
‘I think it’s time to call the police – you can’t deal with this on your own,’ Phil insisted gently and opened the minibar. ‘Have a swig of whisky, you look terrible.’
Geoffrey nodded and downed the generous portion that Phil had poured into the glass. The lump in his stomach protested briefly but started to dissolve.
‘I need to talk to the right people, Phil. If I just walk into the nearest police station it’ll take ages to make them understand – we have no time to lose. Any brilliant ideas?’
‘That’s right, but I can’t really help,’ answered Phil. ‘The worst thing that has ever happened here was a jewellery theft. Hong Kong is normally quite a safe city.’
Geoffrey looked out of the window, not really seeing the spectacular vista, thinking hard who of his long list of friends and acquaintances could be of help.
‘Peggy!’ he exclaimed. ‘She should know.’
‘May I
know who Peggy is?’ Phil asked.
‘She’s David’s PA, a robot in the shape of a human. Sometimes I think she runs his business empire in truth. She’ll know what to do.’
‘Sounds like the right person,’ Phil conceded.
Geoffrey was already on his mobile. As usual, Peggy was calm and composed, no signs of hysteria here. If she found it unusual to take an emergency call on a holiday, she certainly didn’t let it transpire.
‘Mr McPherson, is there anything I can do for you?’
‘Yes, Peggy. I need you to put us in touch with the police department that’s leading the investigation. I have a potential eyewitness… and she’s disappeared. We need to move fast.’
‘It’s no longer the police in charge, Mr McPherson. The secret service has taken over because a representative of Central Government was endangered. Can you come over? Where are you now?’
‘In the Intercontinental.’
‘Oh, it’s regarding Miss Lipton then. I’ll inform the officers immediately, they’re still here.’
He heard her talking rapidly in Chinese and a minute later she replied, ‘A police car will be waiting for you in front of the hotel in two minutes.’
‘You’re a treasure, Peggy. See you soon.’
Minutes later Geoffrey found himself sitting in a dark limousine speeding towards the tunnel with blazing lights and blasting horns. Hong Kong was waking up and the usual traffic congestion was forming at the entrance of the harbour tunnel. Never in his life had Geoffrey seen the long waiting lines queuing at the tunnel unravelling so fast in order to give way to the car that must belong either to the police or to the government. Even the notoriously cheeky taxi drivers were giving in meekly as soon as the blazing lights appeared in their rear-view mirrors.
Thus Geoffrey found himself sitting in David’s villa in almost no time, confronted by several senior officers of the Hong Kong police force and two men in the olive-coloured garb typical of members of the National People’s Army of China. Their English was surprisingly fluent, a great relief to Geoffrey as he had been bracing for tedious discussions and precious time lost in translations.
After ten minutes of intensive interrogation the officers not only believed his story, they admitted openly that it fitted perfectly with their ideas.
‘Let’s tackle the Italian restaurant. If Miss Lipton has been there, we’ll find a trace,’ one of the senior officers who went by the popular name Chen concluded.
‘May I join you?’ Geoffrey asked.
The two Chinese officers looked surprised. ‘I have a bit of experience in this field,’ Geoffrey added.
Mr Chen smiled. ‘We know, Mr McPherson, we have – of course – studied your file when we examined the guest list. You worked three years for the Special Forces in Australia. Your colleagues there still hold you in high esteem, by the way, as we discovered when we discreetly asked for more information.’
‘That’s bloody nice of them. I must admit though, I was in slightly better shape physically then than today…’ Geoffrey grinned and looked at his belly. ‘Too much beer and not enough exercise. But I know what to do and what not to do during such an operation. Please let me assist, I may be of help. I know a lot of details and facts that you may not yet have had time to discover.’
The officers from China nodded and Mr Chen continued. ‘That’s ok then. You may be of help indeed. Time is of the essence. We’ll take the helicopter back to Kowloon – the tunnels will be so congested by now that even a police car will be stuck for ages.’
Geoffrey was transported back to Kowloon, this time even faster than he’d ever have imagined. They arrived at the restaurant, which was almost deserted; business would only pick up for dinner. The police force had it shut down in no time and all the waiters were lined up for interrogation. They admitted freely having seen Amanda.
‘She left the restaurant without paying for her coffee,’ the waiter complained.
‘When did she leave the restaurant – and was she alone?’
‘No idea, really. Her place was suddenly empty.’
‘Were there any other guests at that time?’
‘Yes, two gentlemen, but they were decent chaps, they left money for their drinks. Not like this woman.’ The waiter scowled.
Nobody could remember anything else.
Geoffrey had remained in the shadow of the police officers listening in, as most of the interrogation had taken place in English. As in most of the restaurants patronised mainly by international guests, the vast majority of waiters originated from the Philippines.
Chen whispered, ‘We won’t get very far with these witnesses. Let’s see if the police have noticed anything.’
As he spoke another officer handed him a slip of paper.
‘That’s interesting. Get me more details,’ Chen shouted and immediately his aide spoke rapidly on the mobile.
‘It’s confirmed, sir. The car that registered on the security cameras close to this restaurant at noon belonged to a suspect.’
Chen couldn’t hide a smug grin. ‘The net is closing. One of Jacky’s cars. We’ll need to search Jacky’s home. I’m almost sure there must be a link to the murder of his girlfriend Cynthia Li as well. With the number plate and the fact that his bodyguard can be linked to the assault, he won’t escape us.’
‘Won’t we need to apply for search warrant first, sir? Shall I take care of it?’ a junior police officer demanded nervously.
Geoffrey noticed that the Chinese officer with them shook his head ever so slightly.
Mr Chen cleared his throat. ‘That won’t be necessary. As the assault was carried out in the presence of and putting into danger a representative of Central Government, we’re covered by antiterrorist legislation and may search and arrest any person liable for terrorist attacks without a formal warrant. Let’s go.’
The junior officer looked surprised by this broadminded interpretation of the law but knew better than to voice his objections.
‘We’ll need to fly back over to the island. Jacky’s flat is located on the coast at Sai Wan. I’ll order reinforcements.’
Geoffrey whistled. ‘You can’t ask for anything better – unless of course you own a villa close to the Peak.’
‘The property was owned by Miss Cynthia Li, but he had permission to use it.’
‘For free, I guess,’ Geoffrey suggested.
‘I wouldn’t be able to confirm that, sir. But there’s a certain likelihood, I agree.’
The appearance of twenty special agents clad in heavy assault gear inside the marble and gilt decorated reception hall of the tall apartment building had something highly unrealistic about it; Hollywood couldn’t have asked for any better setting for an action movie.
The reflections from a large swimming pool outside were shimmering on the polished marble of the lobby. The sun was streaming in and the inviting lobby emanated an aura of luxury and holidays; the woes of crime and the pettiness of normal life seemed far, far away.
The concierge hastened to show the way, visibly rattled by the presence of armed forces in his sanctum. All lifts were immediately blocked while they zoomed up to the penthouse that Cynthia had acquired several years ago.
Geoffrey appreciated the professionalism of the forces. There was no shouting, no excited commotion, everybody was silent and knew exactly what to do. The door of the penthouse opened smoothly with the key provided by the concierge; there was no need to use the explosives the specialists had brought along.
Silently they worked their way through the different rooms; there was no sign that Jacky was present. They were greeted by an eerie silence. Finally they reached the largest bedroom.
Chen made a sign to stay put as he pushed the door open.
Once the door was wide open it granted a full view of the large Louis XV-style bed, heavy with gilded decorations. Jacky lay sprawled over the luxurious satin bedcovers. The officer made a sign to his agents to lower the machine guns; there would be no need for those. Jacky was de
ad.
They stepped closer and saw a glass with the residue of a milky liquid and a letter next to it.
‘Suicide?’ one of the officers asked.
‘That’s what it’s supposed to look like…’ Mr Chen was not convinced. ‘Forensics will tell us more.’
Geoffrey scratched his head. ‘This is not at all what I expected.’ He broke into a crooked smile. ‘How inconvenient, my favourite villain is dead.’
Chen nodded. ‘You’ve hit the point, Mr McPherson. Any other suggestions?’
‘Not really, but we must find Amanda now – and fast. This story is getting pretty nasty.’
Hide and seek in Hong Kong
Amanda breathed deeply. ‘Don’t panic,’ she admonished herself. But how to stay calm if nothing short of a miracle would help her to leave this restaurant – preferably alive. Her two pursuers were still sitting at their table, positioned ideally to guard the restaurant and the entrance. How to escape unnoticed? Those guys looked as if they meant business; they were not the kind of men that would be moved by female tears or pleading.
There would be no white knight or hero like James Bond stepping inside the restaurant in an immaculate designer suit – she must get out of this trap all by herself. But how?
Suddenly the miracle she had been praying for happened. The beeping tone of an incoming mobile phone message echoed through the silent restaurant. The younger of the two men dragged his phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket and looked at the screen. First he frowned but his frown gave way to a fat grin. Chuckling, he nudged the older guy. A second later both men were staring fascinated at the screen exchanging lewd remarks.
‘It’s now or never,’ Amanda thought and bolted out of the door, racing across the narrow street as if the devil were pursuing her. Luckily Hong Kong’s crowds were out again, people of all races and nationalities strolling at their leisure across the grimy concrete walkways, savouring the treat of a New Year holiday. The anonymous crowd swallowed her and gladly Amanda became part of it, like a fish hiding in the safety of its swarm.
Death in Hong Kong: (Amanda Lipton Mysteries Book 3) Page 16