Kong turned the headlights off and crept along behind them.
The women made a slow pass by a house on a low bluff.
Fifty meters later, they pulled over and stopped.
Then their taillights went out.
They were sitting there, alone, ripe for the taking.
Half of Kong’s brain told him to take them now.
The other half said to hold on for a few minutes and see what they were up to.
Chapter Fifty
Day Six—August 8
Saturday Evening
______________
SATURDAY NIGHT, Prarie and Emmanuelle drove to the south side of the island, bided their time at Repulse Bay until the sky got good and dark, and then made a pass by Guotin Pak’s house. No one appeared to be home.
Perfect.
They continued for another fifty meters and killed the engine.
“You still up for this?” Emmanuelle asked.
“Not really.”
“Okay, wait here.”
“I was kidding.”
With knives and flashlights in hand, they doubled back to the house, looked in the windows and saw no signs of life. Just in case someone was inside sleeping, Emmanuelle knocked on the front door.
No response.
She knocked louder.
No response.
The front and back doors were both locked, so they broke a rear window. Emmanuelle crawled through and opened the back door for Prarie.
The main room and the kitchen showed nothing of interest.
But the adjacent room did.
It was an art studio with lots of northern windows. The pungent odor of turpentine hung in the air. A large easel held a panting in progress. Although it was only half finished, Prarie recognized it immediately as she flicked the flashlight over it.
“This is a Renoir,” she said. “He’s replicating a Renoir. It’s not one of the ones at Musee d’Orsay, though.”
“Where is it from?”
Prarie didn’t know.
“Look at this,” she said, flashing her light on a large wooden table. Dozens of detailed photographs of the original painting were carefully laid out. Many of them had yellow post-its with handwritten notes. “I still don’t see how he can do it, even with all this reference material. The guy’s got some serious talent.”
“He better,” Emmanuelle said. “He’s got five paintings hanging in Musee d’Orsay. He’s the only person currently alive who can actually say that.”
A FAINT BUT DEFINITE NOISE suddenly came from the back of the house, as if someone bumped into something. They looked at each other, then turned off their flashlights.
The room turned blacker than black, so black that they couldn’t even see each other.
They stood perfectly still with pounding blood.
Prarie shifted the knife to her right hand.
In the process, the flashlight dropped to the floor, flicked on and rolled.
The eerie moving beam lit up the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway.
He was big, menacing and stationary, then started towards them.
Emmanuelle shined her light in his eyes and said, “We got knives!”
The man stopped.
No one moved.
No one said anything.
The man carefully bent down and picked the flashlight off the floor and then trained it on them—Emmanuelle first, then Prarie.
“Put them on the floor,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Bullshit! Step aside and let us out!”
“Just put them down,” the man said.
He was on the verge of springing.
The women backed up, one step at a time.
The man followed.
Prarie’s heart raced.
THEY WERE AGAINST THE WALL NOW.
“Open a window!” Emmanuelle said.
Prarie felt for a latch but couldn’t find one.
“Just kick it out!”
She did.
The glass shattered.
“Get out! I’ll hold him off!” Emmanuelle said.
“No! I’m not going to leave you.”
“Don’t argue! Just do it!”
Prarie pictured going through. There was jagged glass stuck in the bottom of the pane.
She had shorts on.
She’d be cut, probably deep.
Before she could form another thought, the man sprang.
They both slashed at him with their knives.
Chapter Fifty-One
Day Six—August 8
Saturday Evening
______________
TEFFINGER LEARNED ONE THING about Hong Kong nightlife fast, namely that appearance and taste counted. In a city where bottom lines ruled, people dressed to impress. The women were models, the men were clean. Fan Rae hadn’t said anything yet about Teffinger’s casual attire, but he bought a pricey pair of black pants, and a black shirt, just to keep it that way.
He was nervous about tonight.
He needed to get as much information as he could from the mystery woman without being obvious.
He also needed to do a threesome.
He’d never admit it, but it had him a bit on edge. It would be a new experience. The way he pictured it, he’d kiss one of them, then the other, then feel up one, then the other. How it was supposed to go from there, he didn’t have a clue.
He’d just follow their lead.
That’s the best he could do.
Fan Rae offered to pick him up at the Fleming, but he wanted to show up at her door and knock on it, more like a date, so that’s what he did.
When the door opened, Teffinger wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
Fan Rae had taken her beauty to a new level.
She usually wore hardly any makeup, which was a good look for her. But now, with more than usual, her eyes were defined and more mysterious than ever.
Her lips were moist and pink.
She smelled like a flower.
But the best past of all was her dress—expensive, white and short, perfectly framing her ample cleavage.
“You look nice,” he said.
“It’s called a full hour of work.”
“Well, your work worked,” he said. “Does that make sense?”
It did.
She hooked her arm through his.
“I’m horny as hell, cowboy,” she said. “Consider yourself warned.”
THEY TOOK A CAB TO THE DRAGON-I in Central, which turned out to be an already-in-motion DJ-driven party jammed with international jet-setters and the most exclusive local eye-candy, very expensive. A lot of commotion was taking place in a roped-off area by the dance floor. Fan Rae strained to see who is was and shook Teffinger’s arm with excitement. “This is so cool. That’s Yuki over there.”
“Which one?”
“Short black dress.”
“The one with the legs?”
“Right.”
“Is she someone?”
Yes.
She was, a Canto-pop diva.
“I have all her CDs,” Fan Rae said. “I’ll play one for you later. God, I can’t believe she’s actually here in the flesh.”
“I take it you’re a fan.”
“Huge,” she said. “We need drinks.”
Teffinger handed her a hundred.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” he said. “Get whatever you want and get a beer for me.”
Then he disappeared into the crowd.
Five minutes later he returned, holding the hand of a woman in a short black dress, with lots of legs. The look on Fan Rae’s face said everything he hoped it would.
“Fan Rae, meet Yuki,” he said. “Yuki, Fan Rae.”
Yuki laughed at the expression on Fan Rae’s face, then kissed her on the mouth and said, “Why don’t you and Nick come over and join us?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
The woman grabbed Fan Rae’s hand and pulled. “Stay close to your man,�
�� she said. “A few of the piranhas over there will eat him for breakfast if they get half a chance.”
THE MYSTERY WOMAN from Hei Yewan—the one who was going to kill d’Asia—showed up half an hour later, already tipsy, and joined the party.
Fan Rae gave her a big hug and said, “Teffinger, Tanna. Tanna, Nick.”
The woman looked into Teffinger’s eyes.
“You look dangerous,” she said. “Are you a bad boy?”
“Why? Do you like bad boys?”
She unbuttoned his shirt and ran a finger down his chest.
“Let’s find out,” she said.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Day Six—August 8
Saturday Night
______________
A STRONG MOON threw a pale yellow glow over the nightscape. Kong watched from the shadows as the two women walked silently around the perimeter of the house and shined flashlights in the windows.
They were breaking in.
Why?
Were they getting dirt to blackmail some other poor sap?
They were gutsy.
He had to give them that.
Suddenly glass broke.
He smiled.
There they go.
He positioned himself between the house and their car, then searched around until he found a good clubbing stick. He’d knock them both out, then pick up one in each arm and carry them back to his car.
He waited.
Time passed.
Then something bad happened.
Headlights bounced up the road, getting brighter and stronger, heading his way. They came to a stop where Kong’s car was parked.
He swallowed.
Police?
They stayed there for some time. Then a car door slammed. The driver must have been out of the car and was now back in. Three seconds later, the headlights moved again. Kong headed farther away from the road and got down on his stomach. Someone could drive by a hundred times and never see him, but the car didn’t drive by.
Instead, it stopped twenty meters before it got to the house. The engine shut off. A man got out, a large man, and quietly walked towards the house.
The owner?
The man tiptoed to the front door and tried the doorknob. When it didn’t turn, he inserted a key and slowly opened the door. He left it open behind him and walked into the house without turning any lights on.
KONG CREPT TOWARDS THE HOUSE on cat feet.
Curious.
Excited.
Breathing deeply and silently.
He hoped he didn’t have to kill the man.
He really did.
But if it came to it, then it came to it.
He was going to leave with the women.
Period.
Nothing in the world was going to stop him.
It was his night.
He owned it.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Day Six—August 8
Saturday Night
______________
PRARIE’S KNIFE HIT SOMETHING that felt like flesh and, at that exact moment, Emmanuelle screamed. Two seconds later, the side of Prarie’s head exploded in colors and pain. She realized that she had been struck by something wooden or metal, something that injured her badly and maybe even killed her. Everything went black before she hit the floor. At some point later she regained consciousness, a foggy eerie consciousness, not fully awake but enough awake to tell that she wasn’t dead.
She saw nothing.
She blinked to be sure her eyes were open.
They were.
But the world around her was as black as if she was in a coffin.
She heard nothing.
She moaned to be sure her ears worked.
They did.
She heard that, but nothing else, not a sound.
She had no idea where she was. It felt like a mob of little demons was trying to break out from inside her head by beating on her skull with little hammers.
Let me pass out.
Please.
Please.
She went to put her hands over her ears.
Then something happened.
Something terrible.
Her arms wouldn’t move.
She went to stand up.
Her legs wouldn’t move.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Day Six—August 8
Saturday Night
______________
EVERYTHING WENT WRONG. The mystery woman—Tanna—got pushed aside by Fan Rae, who came over to guard her property. Teffinger spent most of the next two hours sandwiched between Fan Rae and Yuki, getting drunk and being groped. It wasn’t a bad place in the universe to be, he had to admit, but it wasn’t the one he came here for. He kept an eye on Tanna, waiting for a chance. She was on a couch with her hand in some guy’s crotch. Then it was time to leave.
It was threesome time.
Yuki handed him a piece of paper.
“That’s my phone number,” she said. “It’s good for a week or two.”
Teffinger shoved it in his pocket.
“Thanks for being so nice to Fan Rae,” he said. “You totally made her day.”
She rubbed her chest on him and kissed him on the lips.
“You listen to my CD, okay?”
He nodded.
“Do you do any Beach Boys songs on there?”
She laughed.
“You’re too much. Call me.”
TEN MINUTES LATER they were in a club called M1NT, another high-society Central hotspot, with a Swarovski crystal chandelier that cascaded between floors like a waterfall. The person they came to meet was standing next to a saltwater tank filled with baby sharks.
“That’s her,” Fan Rae said, pointing.
“The one in the pink and black?”
“Right,” she said. “Xiang.”
He didn’t know exactly what he expected, but it probably wasn’t this. The woman had tight pink shorts, incredible creamy thighs, a blue jewel in a very nice bellybutton, and a short black top.
Teffinger swallowed.
She was out of his league.
She might reject him.
The woman spotted them, waved to Fan Rae and then checked Teffinger out as they walked over. She kissed Fan Rae on the mouth and said, “He’s just as nice as you said.”
Then she kissed him and said, “I’m Xiang.”
“You smell like a flower.”
“Told you,” Fan Rae said. Then to Xiang, “You have a big act to follow. He’s been partying with Yuki all night.”
The woman was startled.
“Yuki the singer?”
“Right, she’s over at the Dragon.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” Xiang said.
THEY HAD A COUPLE OF DRINKS.
Then headed to Fan Rae’s.
It turned out that the women already had a plan. They let Teffinger feel up Xiang to his heart’s content, to get it out of his system. Then they laid him on his back and said, “Stay just like that, don’t move.”
He obeyed.
Then they made love to each other.
Slowly.
Erotically.
They did it on top of him, but otherwise ignored him.
It wasn’t until they satisfied each other completely that they turned their attention to him.
“We’re going to have a contest,” Fan Rae said. “We each get to use our tongue and mouth for one minute. Then it’s the other person’s turn. We can’t use our hands or any other part of our body. The one who gives you the ultimate pleasure is the winner.”
Teffinger closed his eyes.
“That sounds reasonable.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Day Six—August 8
Saturday Night
______________
AS KONG CREPT CLOSER TO THE HOUSE, the blond woman suddenly busted out of the front door with a knife in her hand and headed right at him. At first he thought she was attacking, but as she got closer it was apparent that
she would miss him by three or four steps. She was obviously heading for the car.
Kong positioned himself.
As she went by, he popped up out of the shadows and clubbed her in the chest so hard that she lifted off the ground, landed on her back and didn’t move. He didn’t know if he’d killed her or not.
He shook her.
She didn’t respond.
Then he threw her over his shoulder and trotted towards his car. Her face banged against his back.
Kong didn’t care.
Screw her.
He got her in the trunk, hogtied her and then slammed the lid. Now it was time for the other woman. As he headed back towards the house, though, something whizzed past his head, missing him by not by more than a few centimeters. He didn’t know if it was a rock or an arrow or what.
Then he saw the source.
It was the man.
He was standing by the front of the house, cocking his arm back. Kong recognized the position.
He ran back to his car, turned it around and floored it.
The back window shattered as sped off.
A death star lodged in the dash.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Day Seven—August 9
Sunday Morning
______________
PRARIE WOKE UP IN A BED. Her wrists were tied together, tightly, with multiple wraps of a thin white rope combined with several hard-pulled knots. Her ankles were similarly bound. Faint background music came from the adjacent room. The pungent odor of turpentine permeated the atmosphere. An air conditioner hummed from somewhere in the house.
She looked around for Emmanuelle.
She wasn’t there.
Where was she?
Dead?
The little demons were still inside her head, but not hammering anywhere near as loudly now. She had to relieve herself so badly that she actually thought about doing it right there in the bed.
But the sound or smell might draw attention.
So she fought the pressure and instead surveyed the rope on her wrists. Then she began working at it with her teeth, quietly, controlling her breathing.
How long would she have before the man checked on her?
Dead in Hong Kong (Nick Teffinger Thriller) Page 13