Chung parked the Porsche twenty feet from where the mechanics were working under the ramp. As he climbed out he saw that one corner of the parking area, well away from where the cars were being worked on, had been converted into a makeshift lecture theatre, with a dozen folding chairs facing a big bulletin board. A large-scale map of Kowloon and the New Territories had been pinned to the board. Almost all the chairs were occupied, but Chung couldn’t see any faces because all the men had their backs to him. He closed the car door and a few heads turned to get a look at him.
Chung was wearing a black polo shirt and jeans, and a gold Rolex glittered on his left wrist. He saw Michael Wong standing at one end of the line of Mercs and walked over to him.
“Anthony!” called Wong. He went over to Chung and shook hands with him. “Good to see you.”
“Everything on schedule?” asked Chung.
Wong waved his arm towards the eight shining cars. “These eight are already done,” he said. “The remaining two will be finished tonight.”
“Good,” said Chung, nodding. Wong took him over to the line of cars. There was something decidedly sinister about the top-of-the-range Mercs with black glass, Chung thought. It was because you had no idea who or what was within, he decided. But you knew that anyone inside could see you perfectly.
Wong opened the passenger door of one of the cars and told Chung to take a look inside. Chung put his hand on the roof for support and stuck his head inside. The plush interior had been completely stripped out, including all the seats. A simple bucket seat and seat belt had been installed for the driver, but other than that the car was empty. The carpets had been stripped out and Chung could see metal reinforcing struts had been welded to the floor and thick wire mesh overlaid on top.
He stood upright. “Excellent job,” he said.
“The suspension has been strengthened, and special heavy-duty shock absorbers fitted,” said Wong. “You can see how high the cars are riding now, they’ll settle down once they’re loaded up.”
“And each car will carry how much?” asked Chung.
“Up to 1,100 pounds,” said Wong. “At today’s price, that would be equivalent to about seven million US dollars.”
“Ten cars, seventy million dollars. That’s a lot of gold, Michael. An awful lot of gold. And the vans?”
Wong pulled a face. “It depends what we find in the boxes. Could be cash, jade, lots of currency I would think. We’ll take as much as we can.”
“The cars go first, of course.”
“Of course,” said Wong. “They’ve much further to go.”
“Where are you going to hide the vans?”
“We’ll drive one out to Yuen Long, to a safe house we have there, the other we’ll bring back here. We’ll split it into several loads and distribute it to other safe houses within the day. We should have the cash out of Hong Kong within six hours, the diamonds we’ll keep here. I can’t believe it’s going so well, Anthony. The gods are truly smiling on us.”
Chung grinned. “It’s not good joss, and you know it. It’s planning, and investing in the right people. Speaking of which, how are the gweilos and the helicopter?”
“I was there yesterday for their briefing. The chopper is ready to go, and so are the men. That man Tyler is a wizard. To find a group of men willing to rob the racetrack was achievement enough, but he’s actually got them to the stage where I believe they could really pull it off. I tell you, Anthony, if you change your mind and decide you want to …”
Chung held up his hand. “Don’t even joke about that, Michael. If we succeed we get everything we’ve ever wanted, but if we fail …”
“I know, I know.”
“And for us to succeed, it is imperative that the Americans do not. All attention must be focused on them, the way a conjurer diverts the attention of the audience. Only then can we pull the rabbit out of the hat.”
“Don’t worry, Anthony. Your plan is perfection itself, and we are following it every step of the way.”
“The guard in the depository?”
“Mr Woo. He has been spoken to, and he understands our position, and his own. He has three sons, he will do as we say. And you, have you been invited to the races?”
“Better than that. The Fieldings are having pre-race cocktails at their home. I have been asked to go by their daughter. I suggest we meet at my apartment at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning for a final briefing. Do you think seven men will be enough?”
“Seven and myself. Eight in all. I think that will suffice. The men I have in mind are quite intimidating. They scare the shit out of me, so I think they’ll have no trouble persuading the Fieldings and their guests to do as they’re told.”
The two men laughed as Wong slammed the door of the Mercedes. “The drivers, are they all here?”
Wong nodded and put his arm around Chung’s shoulder. “All ten. You did a good job recruiting them.” The two men walked over to the group of men sitting on the chairs. Most had turned around to get a better look at Chung and Wong. As Chung got closer he began to recognise faces, and he winked at Simon Li. He was the driver who’d won the first race Chung had entered, and Chung had beaten him once since. Li was the first driver Chung had approached, and he’d readily agreed. Chung had guaranteed him the equivalent of two winner’s purses for less than an hour’s driving, an offer he had subsequently made to another nine drivers. All had accepted.
Several of the drivers shouted greetings to Chung. Most believed that the operation was being run by Michael Wong and assumed that Chung was just another hired hand. Chung preferred to keep it that way and he took his seat among the drivers. He looked at the map as Wong walked to the wall and turned to address the group. There were ten routes drawn on the map, all originating from one spot in Kowloon, and all terminating at one of five points on the coast. Wong’s briefing was short and economical. He explained that the men were to report to the garage at midday and that they would be leaving at ten-minute intervals to drive to the depository. After being loaded with gold, they would follow one of the assigned routes.
“Drive as quickly as possible, but do not speed or go through red lights,” warned Wong. “We expect the police presence in Kowloon to be at a minimum, but there is no point in taking risks. The drivers assigned to the longest route will be leaving first, so we expect all the cars to be at their destination point within two hours from the moment the first car arrives at the depository.”
“How do we know which route?” asked one of the drivers.
“They will be assigned on Sunday,” said Wong. “You won’t be told until you arrive at the depository which your route will be, so memorise all of them. And please don’t have any ideas about getting lost on the way.”
The drivers laughed. They all knew Wong, or knew of him and his triad, and they knew how foolish it would be even to think about double-crossing him. He had smiled and joked during the briefing, but they knew that under the banter the well-dressed Dragon Head was a cold-hearted killer who would not tolerate insubordination, never mind betrayal.
Chung arrived back at his apartment just after one o’clock. He parked the Porsche next to his Ferrari, and nodded to the doorman on his way to the elevator. The doorman was well used to seeing Chung in his scruffy attire, though he was clearly somewhat confused by it. Chung unlocked his door and went into his apartment. He stripped off his black shirt and went into the kitchen to brew himself a pot of coffee. He looked at the ostentatious Rolex on his wrist. It wasn’t the sort of watch he would normally wear, but he’d wanted to show the drivers that he knew how to spend money as well as win it. He took the watch off and placed it on the kitchen top next to his microwave oven.
As he waited for his coffee-maker to run through its cycle he paced slowly around the kitchen, going over the plan in his head, checking for anything he might have missed. It was only last-minute nerves, he knew, because he’d planned it to perfection long before he’d approached Tyler and Wong.
The coffe
e burbled and he poured himself a mug, spooning in sugar and adding a splash of milk. As he sipped it the doorbell rang. He frowned because he wasn’t expecting anyone. He went over to the front door and opened it, the mug of coffee in his hand.
Anne Fielding was just about the last person he expected to find on his doorstep. She was wearing a blue Chanel suit with gold buttons, blue high heels and a delicate gold necklace. Her hair was held back in a ponytail with a dark blue clasp which made her look ten years younger than she really was and which was a contrast to the relatively businesslike cut of the suit. To Chung it seemed that she wasn’t sure how to dress for him – as the sophisticated woman she was or the girl he made her feel like.
“Anne?” he said.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” she said.
“Of course,” he said, stepping aside.
She looked him up and down, an amused smile on her face. “I don’t think I’ve seen you so casually dressed before,” she said. Chung was wearing his hair in his driver’s style, and still had on his jeans and tatty Reeboks.
He grinned and ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. “Just slumming today,” he said.
“You look completely different,” she said.
“And you, as always, look gorgeous.”
Anne raised her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “You don’t have to say that,” she said.
Chung sipped his coffee, an amused smile on his face. Anne walked over to one of the sofas and put down her handbag and turned to face him. “I had to come,” she said.
“I’m glad you did,” he replied. “Can I get you anything?”
“Like a drink, you mean?” she said. She shook her head. “No, no drinks this time.”
“Coffee then?”
“No. No coffee either. I can’t get over how different you look.”
“Jeans and training shoes, that’s all. I suppose I’ve always been wearing a suit when you’ve seen me before.”
“Or nothing at all,” she said, with a smile.
“That’s true,” he said. He wasn’t sure why she was in his apartment, or what she wanted from him.
“Anthony, why didn’t you call me?”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to,” he said slowly.
“Because of what happened? Because I went to bed with you?”
He shrugged, not knowing what to say.
“Was it that bad?” she asked.
He shook his head quickly. “No, it wasn’t that,” he said. He smiled. “You know it wasn’t that.” He paused and studied her. “Did you want me to call you, Anne? Is that it?”
Anne went over to the window and looked out, her back to Chung. “When I left here I was so … so … I don’t know how to describe it … so …” She turned to look at him. “Fulfilled. That’s how I felt. Oh, take that amused look off your face. You know what you did to me, how you made me feel.”
Chung put his coffee mug down on a side table and stood by his stereo system. “I didn’t mean to smile, Anne.”
“I left here on a cloud, I hardly remember getting home. I went home and sat down with a gin and tonic and I could still feel you inside me. I didn’t shower, because I wanted to keep the smell of you on me. William came home and thought I was ill. I told him I had a headache, but I could tell that he thought I’d been drinking too much. He went to bed early and I sat up most of the night, thinking about what we’d done. The fulfilment gradually evaporated and then I started to feel guilty.”
“Because you’d betrayed your husband?”
Her blue eyes flashed. “Because I’d betrayed him, and because I’d enjoyed it.” She frowned. “In a way, it would have been better if it had been a disaster, if I’d hated what we did. That would have been easier to deal with. I would have felt guilty and bad about myself, and I could have written it off as a not-too-pleasant experience. At first I didn’t want to see you again, but after a few days I started to get angry at you because you didn’t call.”
“How could I have called you, Anne? Suppose someone else had answered the phone?”
“You could have found a way,” she said. “You had no problem finding me in the Landmark. You could have gone there any afternoon and found me. I used to go and look for you, do you know that? I was like a schoolgirl, walking round and round and hoping that you’d come up behind me and surprise me. I went from fulfilment to guilt, to anger, in just a few days. I tell you, Anthony, you put me through more emotions in one week than my husband has inspired in ten years.”
“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment,” he said.
“You should,” she said.
“I still don’t understand what it is you want from me,” said Chung.
“I’m not sure if I know myself,” she said. “I just know that you showed me something I never thought I’d experience.”
He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“Passion,” she said in answer to his unspoken question. “I felt passion for the first time. Real passion.”
“Come on, you make it sound as if you’d never made love before.”
“Not like that,” she said, shaking her head. “Never like that.”
“But you have a child!”
She laughed harshly, her voice as brittle as spun glass. “Anthony, don’t ever confuse having children with making love.”
“You still haven’t told me what you want, Anne.”
Anne sighed and folded her arms across her chest. She put her head on one side and gazed at Chung. She looked as if she were going to say something and then shook her head.
“You have a husband, Anne. You’re married. And you have a child.”
“There you go again, Anthony. I’m a wife, and I’m a mother. And if I’m not careful that’s all I’ll be for the rest of my life. I want more than that. I want to feel alive. I want to feel … passion.”
“You want to leave your husband?”
Anne tossed her head and laughed. “Leave William? Good God, no. Of course not. Don’t worry, Anthony, I’m not suggesting that I run away with you. I just want to feel the way you made me feel again. I want to be touched, held, made love to.”
She took a step towards him. Then another. She kept moving until she was standing in front of him, her arms at her side, her face turned up to his. “I don’t want any sort of commitment from you,” she whispered. “I don’t even want your love. I just want to be touched.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her softly on the lips. “You’re the wife of an important man, you shouldn’t put yourself in this position,” he said.
She reached up with her right hand and put it behind his neck. “Will you promise me you’ll never tell anyone?” she whispered.
“Of course,” he said.
She pressed herself against him. “Then there’s nothing wrong,” she said. She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him, forcing her soft tongue between his lips. He returned the kiss but then pressed down on her shoulders, pushing her away from him.
“One thing,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“What?” she said.
“Your rings,” he said. “Your wedding ring and your engagement ring. Take them off.”
She looked up at him, frowning. “Why?” she asked.
“Because I want to make love to Anne, not to the wife of William Fielding.”
She kept her eyes on his, and nodded. She slowly slipped the two rings off her wedding finger and held them in the palm of her hand.
“Drop them,” he said quietly. “Drop them on the floor.”
She did as he asked, still watching his face. The rings rattled on the wooden floor, but she didn’t look to see where they fell. Instead she pressed a forefinger against his lips. He opened them and gently bit her finger, then licked it sensuously. He reached for her hips and pulled her towards him. She removed her finger and kissed him, her eyes open so she could watch him as she pressed her lips against his. She moaned like an animal in pain a
nd slid her hand down the front of his trousers.
Neil Coleman put his head in his hands and rested his elbows on the table. In front of him were the half-eaten remains of a hamburger and French fries, the plate smeared with ketchup.
“You want another beer, mate?” asked Phil Donaldson.
“Yeah, go on,” said Coleman. He ran his hands through his sandy hair while Donaldson waved over a waitress and ordered two more San Miguels.
“You look as miserable as sin, Neil,” said Donaldson. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s that fucking Chink,” said Coleman.
“Chung?”
“Yeah. He’s still after Debbie. I just can’t get to her any more. She’s always seeing him.”
“Wasn’t Terry McNeil any help?”
“No, and it was a fucking terrible idea going to him in the first place. Seems that Chung is related to some Chinese politician. I think McNeil was getting a hard-on, you know? He was starting to wonder if maybe Special Branch should be taking an interest. I had to back-pedal like fuck.” He reached into the pocket of his grey suit and took out a packet of Kent cigarettes and lit one with a neon green disposable lighter.
“I thought you’d given up smoking,” said Donaldson. The waitress returned with their two beers and Donaldson tried to look down the front of her dress as she poured them. Both men watched her walk away. “Big tits for a Chinese, that one,” said Donaldson.
“Good arse, too,” said Coleman.
“So what’s with the smoking?”
Coleman looked at the cigarette in his hand. “I only gave up to encourage Debbie,” he said. “There doesn’t seem any point now.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to let that heiress get away from you. All that money. The car.”
The mention of the car brought back memories of their lovemaking in the passenger seat of the XJS, the top of her dress around her waist, his hands on her breasts, her eyes closed as she pounded away on top of him. He shook his head. “It’s that bastard Chung,” he said. “If he wasn’t around, I’m sure I could get to her. She loves me, I know she does, it’s just that he’s getting in the way, you know?”
The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) Page 48