She laughed along with him. “Of course I trust you. Adventure away.”
“Give me a moment while I make a call.” He excused himself and walked back into the hotel lobby.
Alison drank her champagne and watched the boats float by. She was so glad that Kiyoshi had surprised her like this. Better than seeing Hong Kong with a guidebook was seeing Hong Kong with a friend.
A friend. She realized that Kiyoshi was getting to be a good friend, perhaps her only friend in Japan, even though they’d only just met. The unreality of this setting in Hong Kong made her life with Charles seem equally unreal, remote, almost dreamlike. Or nightmarish.
She was going to enjoy the hell out of her time here. This would be her party, the party she didn’t have two nights ago.
Kiyoshi returned, paid the bill, and the two set out.
“Where are we going?” Alison asked.
“You’ll see. You said you trusted me, right?” Kiyoshi steered Alison to the front of the line of waiting taxis and gave the driver directions.
The cab raced through an underwater tunnel to Hong Kong. Alison hadn’t realized that there was an alternative to taking a boat to the island. The tunnel was faster for sure, but not nearly as scenic as the water route.
The taxi driver dropped them at a bay filled with flat-bottom sampan boats. Fishermen gutted their catches off the side of the smaller vessels. The larger boats, decorated with strings of Christmas lights, served drinks and meals to the tourists aboard the floating parties. Their pocket camera flashes lit up the night.
Kiyoshi and Alison walked along a pier jutting out into the water. An elder Chinese man scrambled out of his boat with a nimbleness that belied his apparent age.
“Hello, sir. Hello, sir,” the old man waved and bowed to greet Kiyoshi. When the man straightened, a gap-toothed smile cracked his wrinkled face.
“How’ve you been, Chen?” Kiyoshi asked.
“Good sir, good. Please this way. This way, madam.” With a knobby finger, he pointed toward a dinghy. Kiyoshi helped Alison step down onto the boat then followed her aboard. The boat sat low in the water, and Alison didn’t see any life preservers.
She chose to not worry about things. Tonight, she’d let go and enjoy the sensation of the misty sea breeze on her face. She was a strong swimmer. She’d be OK.
Chen cranked up the dinghy’s motor, and after a false start and a sputter, the motor kicked in. He backed the boat up through the crowded confusion of sampans and houseboats and eased out into the harbor proper.
Clear of the logjam, Chen revved the engine, and the dinghy sped off toward the far side of the island. Alison watched the boats behind them rocking in the wake they kicked up.
Alison turned to Kiyoshi, who was staring at the watery night horizon with a thoughtful face. The boat’s noisy motor made conversation impossible, and Alison wondered what Kiyoshi was looking at, what he was thinking about.
After several minutes of flying at top dinghy speed, Chen cut down the motor. The dinghy neared a larger boat — actually a small yacht — that was anchored inconspicuously in a cove. The old man expertly steered the dinghy next to the yacht and tied up alongside.
Kiyoshi climbed out of the dinghy and assisted Alison aboard the yacht. The dinghy’s engines stuttered and came alive. Chen sped off.
Alone on a boat in an isolated inlet with a guy she’d just met. Alison had wanted to relax and have a good time, but that didn’t mean being foolhardy. She’d keep your wits about her.
Alison looked around. The yacht was about forty-five-feet long, she guessed, judging from a pleasure boat her parents had when she was a kid. The yacht’s intricately carved teak decks shone in the moonlight. An exquisite craft. Alison had to remind herself that rainforests were endangered because of extravagances like this boat.
Candlelight flickered on a table set for two and sparkled against the plates, wine glasses and champagne flutes. Chopsticks rested on a polished stone stand. Next to the chopsticks lay Western cutlery, wrapped in indigo towels. Alison guessed that the knife and fork were there for her benefit, if she couldn’t handle the chopsticks and needed to bail. Good call.
A pudgy Chinese man in a white chef’s uniform complete with a ten-inch-tall white toque popped up from below deck. All Alison could think of was how much the man looked like the Pillsbury doughboy. She liked him instantly.
He pumped Kiyoshi’s hand with gusto. “Hisaka-san! Hisashiburi de gozaimasu,” the doughboy said.
Kiyoshi answered him in English. “It has been a long time. How are you, Zhong-san?”
“Good, sir, okagesama de. And how is your father? I am sure he’s happy that you are visiting the boat.” Zhong gave Alison a sidelong glance and smiled.
“I’ll tell my father that you asked about him.”
Zhong nodded and clasped his hands together. “Dinner will be ready soon now. But first you sit and begin with a small something.”
Zhong brought out a plate of pickled sashimi and uncorked the chilled champagne. After filling Alison’s and Kiyoshi’s glasses, he returned below deck.
“This is your boat? It’s gorgeous,” Alison said.
Kiyoshi looked in his lap. “It’s my father’s. His company’s boat.” Kiyoshi poured more champagne into Alison’s already-full glass, overflowing the sides. He took his napkin and patted at the tablecloth in front of Alison. “Sorry,” he said.
“It’s OK, Kiyoshi.”
Mr. Zhong announced dinner and set out the first dishes. “Please enjoy,” he said.
Alison sampled white fish topped with ginger, green onions and sesame oil. Somehow the ginger tasted fresher, hotter, spicier than the ginger she’d had back at home, or even in Tokyo, for that matter. The fish was followed by crab steamed in black-bean sauce.
She eyed small bread rounds topped with some brown mystery meat. Did they eat dog in China? She wasn’t sure. After another glass of champagne, she wouldn’t care.
Kiyoshi saw Alison hesitating over the dish. “That’s golden coin chicken. It’s chicken liver.”
Alison picked up a coin and popped it in her mouth. Crunchy, creamy, with a smoky roasted finish. She closed her eyes to taste more clearly. “Delicious,” she said. Definitely not Fido.
After the first few dishes, Alison stopped asking what she was eating and just enjoyed the masterful blend of flavors and textures. Zhong appreciated Alison’s appetite and, when the meal was over, he even gave her a little wink when Kiyoshi wasn’t looking.
Her stomach full beyond capacity, Alison was grateful that her Issey Miyake outfit had an elastic waistband. She stood with Kiyoshi on the side of the gently rocking yacht, enjoying her tea. Its perfume-laced aroma suggested a jasmine blend and made the perfect finish to a delectable feast.
Soon, the engines started. The boat emerged from its hideaway headed back across the bay. Far off in the distance, the lights from mainland China twinkled.
“This is wonderful, Kiyoshi,” said Alison. She shivered in the sea air.
“Are you cold?” Kiyoshi asked.
“No, not really,” she said. “Maybe a little bit, but I’m OK.”
“Here.” He took off his jacket and draped it over Alison’s shoulders. Alison began to protest, but she liked feeling the weight of Kiyoshi’s jacket on her, the intimacy of a coat warmed by his body. She moved in to be closer to him.
“Kiyoshi?”
“Hai.”
“You said online that you were divorced. Isn’t divorce unusual in Japan?”
For a moment she could sense a guarded hesitance in Kiyoshi. “I suppose it is unusual. But it’s a growing trend. They say Japanese like to imitate American culture.” He chuckled. Alison was grateful for the lighthearted retort.
“Sorry for bringing it up. It’s just that—”
“It feels like a long time ago. Almost two years now.”
“That’s good to hear.” What was she talking about? Stupid comment, Alison. Undaunted, she pressed on. “Do you have any kids?
” She held her breath. As if it were any of her business. As if it mattered.
“No, we didn’t have any. I suppose that’s a good thing, given what happened.”
“Yes, a good thing,” Alison was quick to agree.
“Asking questions, like Perry Mason.” Kiyoshi chuckled that laughing cough. “What about you?”
The tables were turned. What could she say? That no, she wasn’t married, that she was in a frustrating relationship with a guy she’d followed around the world thinking that he would finally be able to commit, that her boyfriend was probably cheating on her, and she was fed up and confused? But most of all that she didn’t want to think about him tonight, didn’t want to spoil the evening?
“Oh, me? I don’t have any kids either.” Asked and answered, that’s what Perry Mason would say. “I’ve never been married.”
Kiyoshi put his arm around Alison, pulling her in closer. Alison thought she would ignite at his intimate touch. They looked out over the water as the yacht plowed through the harbor waves.
Unfortunately, but inevitably, they reached land on the Kowloon side. A dock crew met them and helped them tie up at the pier. Alison could see the lights from the Regent Hotel. Thanking Zhong, Kiyoshi helped Alison onto land. The two strolled toward the Regent Hotel arm in arm along the Victoria Harbor waterfront.
Salisbury Road bustled with shops, outdoor markets, restaurants, and crowds — always crowds — even at this late hour. When did people sleep?
“Getting tired?” Kiyoshi asked.
“No, not at all.” Alison felt more wired than she had in a long time. How could a person be tired amidst so many bodies, so many lights, so much motion? It was the adrenaline charge she experienced when she visited Times Square at night.
“Do you like music? I know a jazz club not too far from here. Nothing fancy, but they usually have good bands.”
“Let’s go.”
They hailed a cab and were let out in front of a lonely warehouse in a bleak part of town. The isolation of the area reminded Alison of her misadventures earlier in the day when she had gone looking for Green Space’s office. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go out at night with a stranger. And no one knew where she was, including her.
But Kiyoshi was such a nice guy, he wasn’t really a stranger. Was he?
Alison saw nothing but boarded-up buildings around them. “Are you sure this is the spot?” she asked.
“It’s down this way,” Kiyoshi said. He led her around a corner and into a dark passageway. As they continued, the neighborhood grew more desolate. No other people walked on the streets. No cars passed by. Off at a distance hovered the shell of a burned-out building. It was almost spooky, so marked was the contrast between this deserted area and the nightlife hub they had left. It wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where you wanted to be walking at any hour, and especially not at night. Sure, she was with Kiyoshi, but how well did she really know him?
As soon as they crossed the corner, two couples emerged from an unmarked doorway. The muted tones of a jazz band issued from behind the door. Relieved to see other people, Alison followed Kiyoshi down a steep staircase into the basement jazz club.
A man with weighty under-eye circles sat at a booth at the door. He collected their cover fee from Kiyoshi. “Two-drink minimum,” the man said.
Cigarette smoke hung thick in the air, and Alison’s eyes burned as soon as she entered the club. The space was jam-packed with tables, most of which were occupied by foreigners — Brits, Australians and Americans, Alison surmised from the bits of conversation she overheard. She and Kiyoshi sat down at a wobbly linoleum table. A concrete pillar obstructed their view of the stage.
The band, a three-piece combo, plodded through some old jazz standards, uninspired renditions of “Someone to Watch Over Me” followed by “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” How appropriate.
A harried waitress came to their table and took their drink orders. They drank in silence, listening to the jazz band labor through “Autumn Leaves.”
Kiyoshi must have picked up on Alison’s mood because he suggested, “Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m right behind you,” Alison said. She reached for her handbag, but the bag was gone.
“Wait a second, Kiyoshi. I can’t find my purse. I left it right here on this chair.” Alison looked under the chair next to where she had been sitting and under the table. Kiyoshi joined in the search. They called over their waitress who also helped look, if somewhat unenthusiastically.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Alison muttered, anticipating all the hassle she’d have to deal with. Losing the credit cards and cash was an unfortunate inconvenience, but she dreaded having to work through the bureaucratic paperwork to get a new passport. And yet another visa.
After twenty minutes, they declared the search futile and gave up looking. On the way out, Alison made one last inquiry, stopping to ask the sour old man manning the entrance desk.
“I lost my bag here tonight. It’s a silver mesh bag, about this big,” she held up her hands to indicate the size. “If anyone finds it, would you call me at my hotel? I’m staying at the—”
“This it?” The man reached under his desk and pulled out a handbag.
“Yes. Thank you so much. Here, this is for your trouble.” She opened her bag to give the man something. Her wallet was there, but the cash was all gone.
“Oh. Let me get your name, and I’ll send you—”
Kiyoshi handed the man some bills, and he and Alison climbed the stairs to the street. The fresh air was a welcome change.
“Sorry about the excitement, Alison. But at least you got your bag back. Did you check to make sure everything else is there?”
“Let me take a quick look.”
They walked under a bright street light on the main boulevard so that Alison could see better. She felt around inside her bag. Her credit cards seemed to all be there, and, thank God, her passport.
“Looks like all they took was the cash,” she said.
“Maybe we should call it a night, then,” Kiyoshi said.
“You’re probably right.”
Within a few blocks they were able to find a cab back to the Regent. The doorman helped them out of the taxi.
Alison turned to Kiyoshi. “It was wonderful to meet you. Finally. And such a surprise. Thanks so much for dinner.” Should she bow? Give him a hug? She extended her arm and shook his hand.
“It was my pleasure, Alison.” He kissed Alison on the side of her head. Very continental.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked. Yes, yes, please say yes.
“I hope so. I’m staying here, too,” he added with a smile. “Company apartment.”
“Really? Great. Well. I’ll say good night then.” The awkwardness continued.
“Let’s talk in the morning, all right?”
“Of course.” Alison leaned forward and kissed Kiyoshi on the cheek. Her lips prickled with pleasure at the scratchy warmth of his skin. She needed to extract herself before she did something she might regret. With a gawky schoolgirl’s utter lack of cool, Alison dashed to the elevator.
What a night. No, what a day and what a night.
Standing outside her door, she reached in her bag for her room card key. It wasn’t there. Had she left the card key in the room? Or maybe the two-bit thief who had snatched her purse at the jazz club and stolen her cash had also made off with the room key.
But why would someone steal a room key if they didn’t know who she was, where she was staying? It didn’t make sense. A daunting realization pressed down on her. It wouldn’t make sense to steal a room key unless someone knew exactly who she was and exactly where she was staying. Like that psycho cyber creep who managed to know exactly everything about her.
The sensible thing to do would be to get a new room key with a new access code. Just in case.
She took the elevator down to the lobby and explained her problem to the front desk clerk.
“We can issue you a new
key right away, Miss Crane.” The clerk, a young woman, went into an office and in a few moments returned with a card key.
“This is your new key and the code has been changed. So even if you do find your old key you won’t be able to use it.”
“Thanks so much,” Alison said. She took the card key and headed for the elevator.
“Miss Crane, one moment, please,” the clerk called after her. She handed Alison a piece of paper. “This arrived for you a few minutes ago.”
Alison gazed at the paper. A fax. She’d given the front desk explicit instructions to destroy any fax that came for her. Why couldn’t they understand a simple request? Before she could stop herself, she read the message.
SORRY I CAN’T BE IN HONKON. DID YOU MEET MY FRIENDS? THEY WANT TO SHARE YOUR SOFTWARE TOO. DO NOT MAKE IT HARD FOR THEM AGAIN!!! YOU ARE MY TARGET NOW!!
On the bottom of the fax was a picture of Alison. Hand-drawn concentric circles delineated a target covering her body. The bull’s-eye was centered on her forehead.
Alison’s stomach knotted with rage. That bastard. That unrelenting, sick bastard. She didn’t know how, she didn’t know when, but she was going to nail him for fucking around with her like this. She was resourceful. She was smart. She would figure out some way. He was messing with the wrong woman.
Alison turned on the young woman at the front desk. “Excuse me, but I have a problem.”
“Yes, ma’am?” The clerk blinked repeatedly as she looked up at Alison.
“I left instructions. Very simple instructions. I’m to receive no phone calls and no faxes.” Alison held up the paper, crumpled it into a ball, and dropped it in front of the clerk. “Especially no faxes.”
34
Alison unlocked her hotel room door with the new card key. She couldn’t wait to get out of her smoky clothes, take a shower and replay in her head the unexpected date with Kiyoshi, the highlight of a day otherwise plagued by mayhem.
She stepped through the door and halted at the sight of her clothes strewn across the floor and her open suitcase flipped upside-down on the bed. Papers from her briefcase lay scattered around the room. A yellow puddle that stunk of urine had soaked into the carpeting.
Tokyo Firewall: a novel of international suspense Page 16