by Ian Hamilton
“Unfortunately, Jeremy, there is that continuing problem with Jackson. Frankly, I’m having a tough time getting him from the bedroom to the bathroom, let alone dressed and out the door to visit the bank. In fact, I may need to ask you for the name of a doctor.”
“Ah,” he said.
To Ava’s ear, that simple interjection was filled with hesitation, questions, doubt. She felt a slight touch of panic, and spoke before he could shut any doors on her. “There is another way, though,” she said, in as low-key a manner as she could manage. “Why don’t you come here to collect the documents? I know Jackson would like to see you to say hello.”
He didn’t respond immediately, and for a second she thought she had misjudged the situation. “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” he finally said.
“The sooner, the better,” she said. “He’s exhausted and keeps nodding off.”
“About an hour?” he asked.
“Perfect. We’re in apartment 312.”
“See you both then.”
( 36 )
AVA TRIED TO PUT HERSELF IN BATES’S POSITION. EVERY transaction he conducted was a candidate for scrutiny, a potential target for the only person who might scare him: the bank’s auditor. All the good bankers she had known made it a religion to cover their tracks, regardless of the size or nature of the transaction. Following banking regulations had become second nature to them. So to her mind, dinner invitation or not, Bates wasn’t going to treat her differently from any other customer. It was her job to make sure he had everything he thought he would need if an auditor came calling. And she thought she had done that adequately.
He had the email from Seto saying that he wanted to send a wire and bringing Ava into the picture as a trusted associate. He had met Ava, and she seemed to be the person Seto had described. She knew, given the time difference, that he hadn’t had a chance to call the accounting firm in Hong Kong to confirm her position, and from the way he had looked at her card and at her, she knew he wouldn’t. He had seen all the originals of Seto’s identification, and they matched everything they currently had on file. Now he was going to get the signed original copies of the wire transfer requests and signed and dated copies of the same ID. It was, all in all, Ava thought, a paper trail that would satisfy any auditor.
But there was still the important matter of Bates actually meeting Seto, actually witnessing him signing the necessary documentation. It was a chink in the due diligence process, she knew, that might cause Bates problems if he had to explain the situation later. But that would be later, when hindsight would make it easy to adapt what had actually occurred into what was supposed to have transpired. And even then, he could say with all honesty that he had seen Seto. The fact that he was comatose could be explained. Seto was ill, after all, and Bates had made the point of physically going to his apartment to meet with him. He couldn’t be blamed for the fact that Seto was sleeping at the time. Due diligence had been done. The bank couldn’t reasonably expect more of him.
It’s going to hold, Ava thought as she stood up, feeling satisfied.
“We’re going to have a visitor, and I need your help,” she said to Robbins.
“Huh?”
“The banker is coming to meet me and Seto. We need to get organized.”
“Like how?”
“Come with me,” she said, heading for Seto’s bedroom.
He was still out cold, but it had been more than six hours since she’d given him the previous dose of chloral hydrate. She wasn’t about to take the slightest chance that he’d wake up when Bates was there. “Sit him up and see if you can revive him enough to drink,” she said.
While Robbins grabbed Seto under the arms and hoisted him up, Ava rooted through the toilet kit Anna Choudray had packed for him. She found a toothbrush and a hairbrush. She threw the hairbrush on the bed and left the room with the toothbrush.
In the bathroom she mixed another dose of chloral hydrate and set it aside. She soaked a facecloth, put toothpaste on his brush, and with a towel under her arm went back to join the two men.
Robbins was shaking Seto as if he were a rag doll. Seto’s eyes rolled open, but for only a few seconds at a time before closing. They were blank, uncomprehending. Ava wondered if the dose would be necessary, a thought that was banished when he slurred, “What the fuck . . .”
“Hold his mouth open,” she told Robbins.
Brushing Seto’s teeth was nearly impossible because his head kept moving around, but at least when his mouth was open there was now a faint smell of toothpaste. When she was done, she took the facecloth, wiped away the remnants of paste, scrubbed the dried drool from around his mouth, and then for good measure opened the cloth and rubbed his entire face. “I’ll be back,” she said.
Seto seemed to have nodded off again when she returned. “He needs to drink this,” she told Robbins.
Robbins pried open Seto’s mouth again. She poured. He gagged, and she slowed down the process until he was taking little sips. He got halfway through the glass before he couldn’t swallow anymore. She stopped; a drowned Seto wouldn’t do her any good. “Hold him upright for just another second,” she said.
Ava went to work with the hairbrush. When Seto finally looked decent, she reached behind him to undo the cuffs. “Lay him down.”
She unwrapped the tape from his ankles. Fortunately neither they nor his wrists were marked to any degree. She pulled the bedcovers halfway up his chest, leaving both arms out, resting comfortably along his sides. She stepped back. He was thin, wan, pallid — like someone who was very ill but was being well looked after.
His suitcase was still on the floor where she had dropped it the night before. She put it in the closet. “That should just about do it,” she said to herself.
Ava went into the living room, closing Seto’s door. “I can’t have you here when the banker comes,” she said to Robbins.
“I’m not leaving,” he said.
“Then we have a problem. Do we need to call your brother?”
“I’ll go to my room. The door will be closed. But I’m not leaving the apartment.”
Ava tried to think of a convincing argument that he was being unreasonable and failed. “Just be quiet, then.”
“I didn’t bring my drums,” he muttered.
She carried her file folder to the kitchen, opened it, and placed Bates’s two sets of documents on the table. She checked the signatures against the passport and the Hong Kong ID card. The only way they wouldn’t pass, she thought, was if the person looking at them had predetermined they weren’t genuine. They weren’t perfect, she knew; they were just good enough. And if Bates, God forbid, questioned any of them, she could always use Seto’s illness as an excuse.
“Hello, hello,” a voice said from the intercom by the door. “There’s someone here to see a Ms. Lee.”
Ava looked at her watch. Bates was early. She walked to the intercom. “Send him up, please.”
Robbins rose from the sofa and walked silently to his room.
Bates looked slightly uncomfortable when Ava opened the door. She hoped the idea of being in the apartment alone with her — well, almost alone — was behind it.
“I’ve never been in one of these apartments before,” he said. “I’ve heard good things.”
“Well, they give you value,” she said, directing him towards the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Bottled water, coffee?”
“I’m fine.”
“Let’s sit then.”
He looked at the documents on the table.
“They’re all signed. Two sets for you, one for us.”
Bates sat at the table and began to peruse them. He went through both sets, which surprised her. Then he took a copy of one of the wire transfer requests and placed it alongside the copy of Seto’s passport, checking the signatures. He did it far more intensely than Ava would prefer, and she felt a quiver of doubt.
“It all seems to be in order,” he finally said.
“Are you read
y to meet with Jackson?” Ava asked.
“That would be excellent.”
She led him to the bedroom door, gave it a light tap, and listened. “He may be sleeping,” she said, rapping harder. She counted to ten. “I think he’s sleeping. We’ll go in anyway.”
Seto’s covers had slipped a touch. She tiptoed towards the bed. Bates followed behind her, looking uncomfortable again and doing his best to be quiet. Ava leaned down. “Jackson,” she whispered. “Jeremy Bates is here. Do you want to say hello?”
“He looks very pale,” Bates said.
Ava nodded as she gently shook Seto’s shoulder. “He’s terribly dehydrated. I’ve been making him drink as much water as he can handle.”
“Food poisoning can be debilitating,” said Bates.
“Jackson, Jeremy Bates is here. He wants to say hello,” Ava said more loudly.
“Oh, leave him, please. Leave him,” Bates said. “I have everything I need.”
Ava backed away from the bed, bumping into Bates and stumbling. He reached out to steady her, his right arm slipping under her breasts. That’s when she heard a thud. To her it sounded as loud as a bag of bricks being dropped three metres onto a tile floor. She flushed.
“Sorry about that,” Bates said. “I thought you were going to fall.”
“I might have,” she said, scarcely believing he hadn’t heard the noise.
She led him out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. “You mentioned earlier you might need a doctor?” he said.
“I don’t think that’s necessary now. He’s slowly coming around. I’ve had food poisoning myself, and it’s usually twenty-four hours of misery and then another twenty-four to forty-eight hours of recovery. I just hope he’ll be okay to fly. We’re supposed to leave tomorrow night. I may have to postpone if he isn’t feeling up to it.”
“There are worst places to be stuck,” Bates said.
“Admittedly,” she said with a little smile.
They walked back to the kitchen table and the documents. Bates gathered up his sets. “Do you think it will be possible to send the wires today?” she asked.
“I don’t see why not,” he said casually.
“Wonderful. We would really appreciate it.”
“You will want copies of the actual transfer, I presume, and confirmation that they’ve been sent?”
“Yes, I would. We need to let Hong Kong know as soon as possible that it’s a go from this end.”
“Why don’t I bring them with me tonight when we meet for dinner?” he asked.
That was smooth, she thought. “Jackson won’t be up to it.”
“Well, we’ll have to manage without him, won’t we?”
“Yes, we will. I’m looking forward to it,” Ava said, not missing a beat.
“There’s a French bistro called Les Deux Garçons on the first street before the bank. Are you comfortable with French food?”
“I eat everything.”
“Fantastic. Do you need me to pick you up?”
“No, please don’t. I’m going to spend the rest of the day sightseeing. I’ll find my own way.”
“Seven o’clock, then?”
“Yes, perfect. I’ll see you at seven.”
She waited by the door until she heard the elevator close. She was walking towards Robbins’s room when he emerged.
“Dinner?” he said.
“What the hell was that noise?” she said, cutting him off.
“You handled it, right?”
“If he had had any suspicions at all —”
“But he didn’t, or it sure didn’t sound like he did. Dinner at seven, huh?”
“I had no choice.”
“We’ll drive you and we’ll wait outside. And don’t give me any story about having to go back to his place for a drink.”
“There’s no chance of that,” Ava said. “It’s dinner and out. I just want to get this thing finished and get myself on a plane back home.”
( 37 )
THEY LEFT THE APARTMENT AT QUARTER TO SEVEN. Ava had spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening going back and forth between the balcony, bedroom, and kitchen, her restlessness even getting on her own nerves.
Davey knew the restaurant and drove her to within a hundred metres of it. Ava looked up and down the street, not wanting Bates to see her getting out of the car. When there was no sign of him, she got out and moved away from the door. Robbins rolled down his backseat window. “We’ll be right here,” he said.
She got to the restaurant door at seven on the dot. There was no sign of Bates at the entrance. She stuck her head inside. It was a small place, only about fifteen tables, and unless he was in the washroom he hadn’t shown up yet. A short, round, cheery-looking woman with a menu cradled in one arm glanced at Ava, waved, and then walked towards her. “Ms. Lee?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Bates called for you. He wants you to phone him at this number.”
Ava’s paranoia kicked in. This can’t be good.
“I’ll have to use your phone. I left mine at the apartment.”
“Certainly,” the woman said, pointing to a phone on the hostess stand.
Bates’s phone rang six times, and Ava was ready to give up when he answered.
“It’s Ava,” she said.
“Sorry, I didn’t recognize the number. I should have known you’d call from the restaurant.”
“Is there some kind of problem?”
“Ava, apologies. Actually there is.”
There was only one obvious question, and she wasn’t going to ask it because she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“A very important customer from New York dropped in unexpectedly with a long list of things he wants done, right away, of course,” he said. “He’s insisted I join him for dinner at his hotel at eight. And I’m not in a position to refuse.”
Ava could feel her tension melting. “That really is too bad.”
“You know, you can join us if you wish. I’m sure he won’t mind, since we’ve concluded most of our business already.”
“I can’t leave Jackson alone that long.”
“I understand,” he said slowly.
She paused. “Jeremy, did my wires get transmitted in the midst of this other activity?”
“Of course. They went out late this afternoon.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“And the copies for our records?”
“They’re right here in front of me. You’re only a couple of minutes from the bank. Would you care to walk over?”
“Sure.”
“There’s a night bell in the lobby. Ring it when you get here. I’ll have to come down and let you in.”
She left the restaurant and retraced her steps to the Crown Victoria. Robbins stood outside, leaning against the car. “What’s going on? You get stood up?”
“He can’t make it — some other business — but the wire has been sent and I’m going over to the bank to get a copy of the confirmation.”
“We’ll drive you.”
“I’ll walk. You know where I’m going. Follow me if you want.”
She took her time, enjoying the fresh evening air, the breeze from the Caribbean drifting inland. In a different time, under different circumstances, I might actually enjoy this place, she thought.
The Crown Victoria passed her on Fyfe Street, drove past the bank, and parked about twenty metres past the double doors to Simon House. Robbins stared at her through the rear window.
Ava walked into the lobby; the corridors to the left and right were closed off, sealed by what looked like fire doors. She pressed the night bell next to the elevator, stood back, and waited. It took Bates a couple of minutes to reach her. She had half expected him to bring the documents with him, but he was empty-handed except for the plastic card that activated the elevator during off-hours. “Let’s go upstairs and we’ll get things sorted,” he said.
Sorted? She wasn’t crazy ab
out his word choice. Neither was she comforted by his body language, which seemed stiffer, more awkward. Something’s happened, she thought. She just couldn’t think what.
Bates led her past the Barrett's reception desk and into his office. The bank was deserted.
They sat in the same chairs they had occupied that morning. It seemed to her like a very long time ago. There was a brown envelope on the table. Bates placed a hand on it.
“Ava, there is something I need to discuss with you,” he said, his eyes averted. “I wouldn’t do this normally, but I think we have struck up a good enough relationship that I feel I can share some information that has come to my attention.”
She saw that he was tense, his lips tightly drawn. She fought back a sense of foreboding, flashing an encouraging smile in his direction. “Please, Jeremy, feel free.”
“I received a phone call from a bank in Dallas late this afternoon, just after we sent your wires. It’s the bank that recently sent us electronically two very large transfers from Jackson Seto. The call was in confidence — a courtesy, one bank colleague to another — and I have to ask you to honour the spirit in which it was made.”
“Of course. You can be assured of my discretion,” Ava said.
“The bank . . . the banker advised me that they were contacted by an investigator from the U.S. Treasury Department about a week ago with regard to Mr. Seto. The Treasury official said that Mr. Seto was being investigated on suspicion of money laundering.”
“Good God, I can’t imagine —” she began.
“Ava, how long have you known Jackson Seto?” Bates asked. His eyes were full of concern.
“A few months, no more than that, and only because Dynamic introduced us and wanted us to help with the financial side of this transaction.”
“I think it’s only fair to tell you that I ran some checks on Dynamic and your accounting firm after that phone call.”