Tower Thirty Four: The Collectors Book Three (The Collectors Series 3)

by Sewell, Ron

  “Any idea why?” said Petros.

  Dao smiled, turned, and left.

  * * *

  Captain Dao Tam entered his cabin with two well-dressed Chinese men who possessed an air of confidence. Dao introduced them as representatives of the People’s Government of China.

  “Our apologies for your discomfort,” said the taller man. “Will you please come with us? Your car is waiting.”

  “Thank you again, Captain,” said Petros shaking his hand.

  Bear nodded and took Dao’s hand. “You’re not going to tell us what’s happening, are you?”

  Dao maintained a deadpan expression. “I obey my orders, as an officer should. Enjoy the day.” He stepped back, allowing the four men to stroll across the gangway.

  On the quayside a highly polished, chauffeur-driven black car waited. The doors closed and with their seat belts fastened, they sped to the airfield.

  Bear fingered his tight-fitting naval overalls. “Any chance of a change of clothes?”

  “I will arrange for both of you to visit shops in the airport.”

  “We’ll need to borrow money,” said Petros.

  “My instructions from the staff of our president are that you are to be provided with new clothes and any toiletries you need. With regard to payment, it is our country’s pleasure.”

  “Your friend doesn’t say much,” said Bear.

  “He is my bodyguard and his English is poor. He is here to make sure you do not speak to anyone.”

  “Why?” asked Bear.

  “Those are my orders.”

  The limousine motored smoothly along the pristine road, turning right at the sign for airfreight deliveries.

  “What, no customs or check in?” said Petros.

  The tall man chuckled. “You have no passports or tickets. With my diplomatic clearance I can do most things without problems.”

  Their car stopped at an entrance marked ‘Airport Staff Only’.

  “Time for your new clothes. We go to terminal two. Follow me and please do not talk to anyone.”

  “Not a problem,” said Bear.

  They entered the multi-tiered shopping centre where a security guard approached, his hand covering a leather holster. Their minder opened his jacket for an instant. The man nodded and strolled away in the opposite direction.

  “Obtain what you need but we must stay together.”

  “Levis,” said Bear.

  In less than thirty minutes Bear ambled out of the outlet wearing the best Levis could offer.

  “Lacoste for me,” said Petros.

  Their minder checked the time. “Hurry, our aircraft is ready to leave.”

  “Suited and booted,” said Petros. “I hope we can retrieve our belongings left at Simatai.”

  “Give me the name of the hotel and my staff in Beijing will collect them.”

  “Where are we staying in Beijing?” asked Petros.

  “I am told the China World. Please, hurry.”

  They walked at a brisk pace through a labyrinth of passages, eventually arriving at the departure gate. The airbus A340, belonging to China Airlines, closed its door the moment they were seated. An eye-catching young female cabin crew directed Petros and Bear to their seats in first class. Their escort continued to the rear of the aircraft.

  “Strange,” said Bear, “life never turns out as you imagine.”

  “If the last week is anything to go by, you’re right. Tell me why we’re now being treated as VIPs …?”

  “PK, I’m old enough and ugly enough to recognize a cover-up when I see one. There will be a price for our silence. You can guarantee it.”

  The aircraft’s engines wound up to full power moments before it charged along the runway.

  Petros gripped the arms of the seat until it reached level flight. He turned to talk but Bear had fallen asleep.

  On landing at Beijing they travelled in a private car to the China World. At the hotel, an impeccably dressed and somewhat obese middle-aged man opened the car door and waited while they exited.

  “Good evening, gentlemen, I am your personal manager during your stay. I have made a few arrangements. Dinner of your choice is to be served in your apartments when you are ready. Please tell me immediately if any detail does not meet your needs. Please follow me.”

  Bear stared into the foyer. “Who’s paying for this?”

  “You are guests of the Chinese people. Whatever you need is yours. Tomorrow you are to be introduced to our leader. Enjoy.”

  “Any chance of roast beef sandwiches with horseradish sauce, and a few bottles of ice-cold beer?” said Bear.

  The manager stopped, turned, and clicked his fingers. A man dressed as a porter came to his side. “Sandwiches, beef, how many? What bread and name of beer?”

  Gobsmacked, Bear said, “Half a dozen … no, make it a dozen, wholemeal bread and John Smiths - four cans.”

  With their requirements reiterated, the man scurried away.

  “PK, why are you grinning from ear to ear?”

  “Nothing. You are what you are.”

  The spacious lift carried them to the top floor.

  “These are your key cards to the elevator. Mr Kyriades, your apartment. I suggest you use the one dining room to enjoy your refreshments. Mr Morris, your apartment is adjoining. Your keys.”

  “How long before the food arrives?” said Bear.

  “A few minutes, sir.”

  Both men strolled in, their eyes taking in the magnificence of the hallway. The mahogany double doors in front of them swung open.

  “You sure understand how to show a girl a good time.”

  Stunned, Petros gasped, “Maria.”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her full on the lips.

  Tears flowed as she hugged him.

  From behind Maria came Jocelyn. “Hey, big man. I hope you’re not tired …?”

  “Jocelyn,” said Bear. He charged toward her with outstretched arms.

  “Forget the food and booze. I need to talk to my lady.” He held her hand and dragged her away.

  “I don’t imagine we’ll be joining those two for dinner,” said Maria.

  A cough returned them to reality. “Shall I cancel the sandwiches? Whatever you need, please use the telephone.”

  Petros, holding Maria, turned. “Yes. Thank you.”

  The door clicked shut.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The telephone gave a muted buzz for a few minutes before Petros lifted the receiver.

  “Yes.”

  “Mr Kyriades, Eleanor Carter, a member of the prime minister’s staff. I need to talk to you before the presentation tomorrow morning. Shall we say in an hour?”

  “What?”

  “I’m given to understand you are aware of what’s happening.”

  “The quick answer is, no.”

  “I’ll fill you in with the details.”

  “Just give me time to take a shower.” A soft click indicated the call had ended.

  Petros nudged Maria. “We have a visitor arriving in around fifty-five minutes and, unlike the late John Lennon and Yoko, I’d prefer to be showered and dressed when she arrives.”

  “Maria ran her hand across his bruised chest. “She?”

  “Yes, she’s the prime minister’s secretary or something. Eleanor somebody.”

  “Carter. She introduced herself during the flight.”

  “What’s the prime minister like?”

  “Haven’t a clue. He boarded the flight seconds before we took off, said hello and we never saw him again.”

  “You go first. You take longer to get ready. I’ll order dinner. What do you fancy?”

  “Later and in private.”

  “Go and shower. Make it cold.”

  A pillow struck him on the side of the head.

  * * *

  Eleanor Carter, a tall, grey-haired, beaky-nosed, middle-aged and well-dressed woman walked along the corridor to Petros’ suite. One hour after she had spoken to him she kno
cked on the door.

  Petros opened the door and stared. “Mrs Eleanor Carter?”

  “Ms.”

  He stepped aside and she strode into the apartment. “My wife is drying her hair.” He directed her into the expensively furnished main lounge.

  Eleanor gave Petros a searching look. “Mr Kyriades, please contact your friend, Mr Morris. I have no wish to repeat myself.”

  He nodded, picked up the telephone and pressed 03 for Bear’s suite.

  “Yes,” came an abrupt response.

  “You’re presence is required.”

  “Get lost.”

  “This can’t wait. Ms Carter, the secretary to our prime minister, is champing at the bit and wants to see you now.”

  “Give me five. I need to get dressed.”

  “Too much information.”

  The line went dead.

  “My partner-in-crime will be here in a couple of minutes.”

  Ms Carter positioned herself in an armchair and gave a patronising smile.

  A heavy rap on the door signalled Bear’s arrival.

  “Where’s this jumped-up civil servant?” His expression was grim. “Is there a problem?”

  She raised her head and said, “I’m right here, Mr Morris. I recommend you tune in to a new frequency, starting now.”

  “Touché.”

  “My task is to make sure you two do not make fools of yourself at this high-level presentation.”

  “Ms Carter, who do you think we are?” said Bear. “Just because you work every day with idiots doesn’t mean we are.”

  Her eyes flashed annoyance. “I never said you were. Tomorrow you will be correctly dressed. Dark suits, white cotton shirts, sober ties, black shoes and socks.”

  Petros noted she crossed her legs and tugged at the hem of her skirt several times.

  “Bit of a problem, Ms Carter. We don’t have any of the clothing you mentioned.”

  Eleanor Carter pounced on the telephone, punched in a number and chatted for several minutes in Cantonese. The call finished, she lifted her head. “Mr Kyriades, Mr Morris, you will be in reception at eight this evening. A tailor will take your measurements and return in the morning with your complete attire. Please choose a suitable material. A dark blue cotton and wool mix is acceptable.”

  “No problem. We’ll be there.”

  “Right. At nine-forty-five tomorrow you will present yourselves and your wives outside the main doors to the conference suite. I will be there. You will be called together. I will lead you in and wait by the door. You and your partner will walk erect towards the Chinese president and make a court bow. I assume you know how.”

  “Ms Carter, I was an officer in Her Majesty’s Army.”

  “That helps. You can teach Mr Morris the rudiments of decorum. The president will award your medals and say a few words, after which there will be photographs. I will then approach and lead you away. Any questions?”

  “As I said, no problem.”

  “Mr Morris, are you okay with the procedure?”

  With a shrug, he smiled. “Ms Carter, you need to loosen up and enjoy life. Join us for dinner, we won’t eat you.”

  For a second she dropped her guard. “I’d love to meet your wives but the prime minister has urgent business. Thank you.”

  She stood perfectly erect, brushed the front of her skirt and left.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  A few thousand kilometres away in Shanghai Bund, Michael Yeung, a thin man in his sixties, sat behind his desk thinking, What has gone wrong? The hand-carved ivory telephone rang twice before he lifted the handset.

  “Yes,” said Michael.

  “The word is, tonight,” said the caller. “You do not have many hours left.”

  “Thank you. Never trust those who manipulate the organisation in Beijing. So they wish to kill me,” said Michael. “I will be here when my executioners arrive.”

  “How could you be aware of the cameraman and his woman? No one was told.”

  “My mistake. For that reason alone, I am responsible.” He replaced the receiver and pressed the call button under his desk.

  Lin Wu, Michael’s personal secretary, knocked before she entered the room.

  “Lin, I need to arrange an urgent meeting for this afternoon. Contact every member of my family and ask them to meet here.”

  “It’s short notice.”

  In a soft voice he said, “Do your best. Tell them I wish to talk to them on life and death matters. Once completed, the rest of the day is for you to do as you please. I will discuss your future within the organisation in the morning.”

  Michael rose from his chair and motioned to her. He placed one hand on each shoulder and gazed into her deep blue eyes. “Faithful and obedient one, do not let my worries concern you. Tomorrow the sun will rise in the east as it has done since time began.”

  She bowed and left the room.

  Michael opened the right-hand drawer of his bureau and removed a small bottle containing a transparent liquid. He then wandered over to a cabinet and removed five expensive handmade tea sets. These he placed with care on a polished oak table. The task completed, he stood back and checked everything. To finish, he wiped every cup with a cloth soaked in the liquid.

  Lin knocked and entered. “Your entire family will be here at three this afternoon to attend the meeting.”

  “Thank you.” said Michael. “I shall always be indebted to you.”

  Lin frowned at his strange comment but said nothing as she turned and left the room.

  Michael manipulated the computer keyboard on his desk and his office flooded with the music of Tchaikovsky. He turned his chair to the window, which gave a panoramic view over the Huangpu River - the lifeblood of Shanghai - and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  At three o’clock Michael’s wife, his four sons, their wives, two daughters and their husbands, and twelve grandchildren entered his office, stopped inside the double doors, bowed and waited.

  Michael turned in his chair from the window and motioned for them to take their places around the table. Words were unnecessary. He rested his hands on the polished wood and smiled at each of them. “This is an unscheduled meeting but I have much on my mind. With your learning and my help, you journeyed from poverty to riches. We have enjoyed our lives. But before we discuss the future, let us, as is our custom, prepare, serve and drink tea, so our minds may make ready for what is to come.”

  Michael’s wife prepared his tea. The wives of his sons followed her example.

  Michael got to his feet, walked around the room and returned to his chair. “The organisation is unhappy with a decision I made which reflects badly on us.” He glanced at the sleeping children. “You are aware of the punishment for failure.”

  “My husband, you never failed your family or the organisation.” She rubbed her eyes. “What have you done?”

  He struggled to speak. “Saved you and those I love from pain. Silence, let me sleep.” The drug took its effect and he laid his head on the table.

  * * *

  Later in the evening two men, surprised to find the door open, entered Michael’s office.

  On opening the double doors to the boardroom, one rushed to the slumped body at the head of the table and attempted to find a pulse. “He’s dead. You,” he pointed, “complete the ritual.”

  The man unclipped a hatchet from his belt, lifted the blade high. It rose and fell twice, removing Michael’s hands.

  “Stop. His loss of face was enough.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Bear was on the phone to reception ordering a late breakfast when someone rapped on the door.

  “Stay where you are,” said Petros. He crossed the room, opened and gazed at a well-dressed Chinese man. Behind him stood two armed guards in army uniform.

  “Good morning, Mr Kyriades,” the visitor peered beyond him, “and Mr Morris, a pleasure to meet you at last. I am Wang Sheng, an adviser to our president. These men,” he pointed to the sold
iers, “are, I assure you, necessary. May I enter?”

  Petros led him into the lounge.

  Wang sat in the nearest chair and, with his fingers steepled, said, “May I ask where your wives are?”

  “What women do best, retail therapy,” said Bear. “They’re out buying outfits for this morning’s ceremony.”

  “Good,” said Wang. “We can talk without interruption. You are both rational men who became involved with the deceased, George Yee-Ming. He was a clever but dishonest man who played tenpin bowling, with you as the ball. The pins, many in our government and a few in high places, are now elsewhere, alone and lacking family or friends. They will rot and die in the forgotten wilderness of our empire. Please tell me how you came to discover Empress Yehonara’s treasure. Off the record, naturally.”

  “I hope so,” said Petros.

  Bear lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “I’m sure you are well aware of the details.”

  Wang nodded. “I believe my instincts. The truth will make many things clearer.”

  Petros closed his eyes for a moment. “This might appear crazy, but my boat being blown up was the beginning.” Not pausing, he told their tale from start to finish.

  “Honesty these days is a rare commodity,” said Wang Sheng. “I had to ask. I will now tell you what my president and your prime minister were told.

  “You’re going to tell us our cover story,” said Bear.

  “I prefer we call it damage limitation. I demand you do not to mention your experiences to anyone. I saved your lives by sending our navy to search for you.”

  “You’re right,” said Petros.

  “I’m pleased, and to make sure you are not out of pocket, my country will present you with a finder’s fee.”

  “How much?” said Bear.

  “One million british pounds each,” said Wang without flinching. “The Americans often say in films, here is your cover story. With the wall closed to visitors, you and your friend planned to explore the caves. An earth tremor caused a rock fall and sealed the opening. Trapped, you searched for a way out and discovered a tunnel, which led to other caverns. A short time later you found a cave containing countless relics. A fracture in the rock gave you an exit route. You informed the authorities who, with your help, removed everything to a place of safety.”