The Diamond Queen of Singapore

by Ian Hamilton

  “Here you go,” Jasmine said, re-entering with a sheaf of papers. “And this is my business card. I wrote the password on the back.”

  Ava took papers and the card. “Before I go, I have to make some things clear,” she said. “I don’t want a single word about what we discussed today to be shared with anyone. I don’t want to see any of you get hurt, but if you disobey, I can’t promise you’ll be safe. “

  “We get it,” Jasmine said.

  “We know how things work,” Mrs. Lam said. “No word will leave this house.”

  “Also, I don’t exist. My name won’t enter any of your conversations.”

  The three women nodded.

  “And for you, Jasmine, it should be business as usual. There’s no reason for you to do anything different than what you’ve been doing — with one exception,” Ava said. “I want you to contact me immediately the next time Muir asks you to transfer money to Golden Emperor. Will you do that?”

  Jasmine nodded.

  Ava took a card from her purse and handed it to Jasmine. “You can reach me at that email address or phone number,” she said. “Now I’ll be on my way.”

  “Before you go, I have a question for you,” Mrs. Lam said.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you really from Boston?”

  “I was there once,” Ava said, and headed for the door.

  (25)

  Ava walked down Emerald Hill Road and within a couple of minutes was in a taxi heading back to the Mandarin Oriental. She took out her notebook and began writing as soon as the car door was closed. When she had gone to meet Jasmine Yip, questions about the bank account in Chengdu and Golden Emperor MicroLab had been her main priorities. While they still mattered, Patrick Cunningham had now jumped to the top of her list.

  Ava checked her watch. It was too early to call Toronto, but not Shanghai. She didn’t want to start a conversation with Xu while she was in a cab, so she waited until she’d reached her room at the Mandarin.

  “Auntie Grace, it’s Ava. Can I speak to Xu, please?” she said when the housekeeper answered.

  “Just a minute, darling,” Auntie Grace said.

  “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. I spoke to Han about an hour ago,” Xu said.

  “Did he agree to help?”

  “Eventually. He has no direct involvement with Golden Emperor, but he knows who they are and says they know him. He’ll see what he can find out.”

  “I’m sorry if that was difficult.”

  “I had to agree to trade, but it worked out well enough.”

  “Can you go back to him and ask for more information about Golden Emperor without upsetting the agreement?”

  “I think so. I left it open-ended.”

  “Good. What I want to know is if the names Patrick Cunningham and Harvest Table Bible Chapel are familiar to the lab.”

  “And if they are familiar, you’ll want to know why.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You do know this is getting a bit strange?”

  “I’m just dealing with the facts. I have no idea where they’ll lead me.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “I will,” Ava said, and paused. “Speaking of being careful, Tommy Tiu ratted me out to the women I was tracking. It turned out all right in the end, but I don’t think he’s anyone you should trust in the future.”

  “That son of a bitch!”

  “Like I said, it turned out all right. It might even have helped me indirectly.”

  “I still have to call him. He needs to know that I know. Then I’ll let him stew for a few days before giving him a pass — and tacking on another IOU.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him. He isn’t overly bright.”

  “If being bright were a prerequisite to becoming a gangster, the world would be relatively crime-free,” Xu said.

  Ava laughed. “It’s so nice to hear you sounding like your old self.”

  “I’m getting there,” Xu said. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear from Han.”

  Ava ended the call and opened her laptop. She found the website for the Mercantile Bank of Chengdu, entered the Jewellery Circle account number and password, and got immediate access. The balance was identical to the statement May Ling had sent her, and the list of past transactions matched the paperwork Jasmine had provided. If nothing else, she was now in a position to track the account’s activity. If she knew when the next drug deal was imminent she might be able to turn that to her advantage.

  She exited the bank site and entered the name Patrick Cunningham into a search engine. She got five pages of entries, but none of them fitted his profile. Frustrated, she got up from the desk and went over to the window. The Marina Bay Sands was lit up, and it looked just as spectacular at night. If the situation were different she would have considered visiting it, but right now Evans Trust, Cunningham, and the chapel were in her head, and she didn’t need any distractions.

  She checked her watch again. Derek would be out of bed by now, but it was unlikely that Todd Howell would be at the office. As soon as Jasmine Yip and Mrs. Lam had spoken about Cunningham, Derek and Howell had come to mind, but Ava hadn’t decided whether to contact one or both of them. Derek was a top-notch researcher, but his talents were tied to his computer; no matter how skilled he was, the information Ava wanted wasn’t going to be easy to access. She decided to call Howell first.

  “Todd Howell,” he answered.

  Ava heard voices in the background. “This is Ava. I’m pleased to catch you so early. Can you talk?”

  “Just a minute,” he said, and a moment later added, “Okay, I’ve closed my door. If you’re calling about Jasmine Yip, I still haven’t been able to find a connection to Muir.”

  “How about the trips he made to Asia?”

  “Yes, I was going to email the details to you later this morning. We found travel charges of more than forty thousand dollars. Muir made four trips to Hong Kong and one each to Beijing and Shanghai.”

  “Was he travelling alone?”

  “I don’t know. We checked with the airline, and his was the only name attached to the reservations. But that doesn’t mean someone else wasn’t paying for their own ticket.”

  “Do you have a pen and paper handy?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I think I may have found the final landing spot for the Harvest Investment Fund money.”

  “Are you serious?” Howell asked.

  “Completely, and I believe Muir isn’t the only Canadian connection.”

  “What!”

  “Todd, before I get into this with you, I have to stress that I need speed from your end. I’ve involved more people here than I’d like, so the longer this drags on, the greater the chances word will get back to Muir and his pals.”

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  “I need you to dig into the lives of Patrick Cunningham and his wife, Esther.”

  “Cunningham the CFO of Harvest Table?”

  “More like the CEO, according to his mother-in-law. I met her today in Singapore, along with Jasmine Yip. Jasmine and Esther Cunningham — also known as Essie Lam — are cousins. It was Esther who brought Jasmine and Muir together.”

  Howell didn’t react at first, but then he blurted, “You’ve just unloaded one hell of a lot of names on me. How on earth did you find all this out?”

  “That’s not important. Now we know that Muir and Yip are linked and it was Esther Cunningham who brought them together.”

  “To do what, exactly?”

  “Yip is a money launderer. She emptied the Amsterdam bank account and used the funds to buy diamonds in Antwerp. Then those diamonds were sold in China for cash, which was deposited in a bank account in Chengdu.”

  “Yip did all that herself?”

  “Muir directed everything s
he did, but Yip was the front person.”

  “And Esther Cunningham knew her cousin was capable of doing this?”

  “More important, Patrick Cunningham knew,” Ava said. “If I remember correctly, it was Cunningham who positioned Muir to establish the finance committee, yes?”

  “It was.”

  “It makes sense then that they knew each before that happened.”

  “Are you saying that Cunningham was involved in the scam?”

  “Todd, at this point we have to stop thinking that Muir is our only villain. I’d be surprised if Cunningham isn’t up to his ears in this as well.”

  “Holy Christ.”

  “So you need to find out everything you can about Cunningham and his wife,” said Ava. “And see if you can find anything that connects either of them financially to Muir.”

  “I can hardly believe what you just told me, but of course I’ll look into it. We have some people in house who are good at this, and I have a friend who’s a private detective.”

  “Use all of them, but there has to be a level of discretion.”

  “I understand that.”

  “And Todd, while they’re looking at Cunningham, they might also want to examine how Bible Chapel is funded,” she said. “Those two hundred acres it sits on must have cost a fortune, not to mention the building and the infrastructure that goes with it. Cunningham’s mother-in-law told me about his role at the chapel, that he was the one who kept things running by keeping the bank happy.”

  “What about Pastor Rogers?” Howell asked. “Do you think this could go all the way up to him?”

  “I can’t discount the possibility. How close are he and Cunningham?”

  “It seems like Rogers trusts him, and Cunningham comes across as someone who would do anything to please his boss.”

  “I don’t know much about Rogers. Maybe it’s time I learned more.”

  (26)

  Ava put down her cellphone with a sigh. She checked the time again. She was desperate to hear from Xu but knew he’d phone the moment he heard anything. Almost absent-mindedly she hit Fai’s number and then listened as her call went directly to voicemail.

  “It’s me. I’m in my room at the hotel and I’ll be here for the rest of the evening. Call me whenever you can. Love you,” she said.

  As she hung up, she saw she had an incoming call.

  “Ava, this is Brenda.”

  “Oh, hi,” Ava said.

  “You sound disappointed,” Brenda said. “Am I taking you away from something?”

  “Not at all. I’m just preoccupied with the money I’m trying to hunt down.”

  “How is that going?”

  “Well enough, though it’s more complicated than I had anticipated. But we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “I’m calling to tell you that Richard and I are now silent partners in a company called BB Productions. It has a London address — which is a law firm’s — and a bank account with Barclay’s that the lawyer will manage per our instructions. I figure if you can fund the account through a second party, that will put a bank, two law firms, and three people between you and the money.”

  “I’ll buy the two of you dinner the next time I’m in Hong Kong.”

  “We’ll take you up on that. Is there any chance that could be soon?”

  “Possibly. I’m in Singapore now, and May Ling wants me to join her and Amanda in Hong Kong when I finish here.”

  “We’d love to see all of you,” Brenda said, and paused. “Ava, I can’t remember if May and Amanda know about the film project.”

  “They know some things but not all. They haven’t read the script. Did you translate the copy I emailed to you?”

  “I did, and I’ve read it and Richard read it,” Brenda said. “Neither of us is qualified to pass judgement on how it will translate to the screen, but even in written form it’s incredibly powerful.”

  “Can you understand now why I want to see it made?”

  “Ava, I never said it shouldn’t get made. My concern was always about protecting you from any political fallout. The banking arrangement in the U.K. is a good start to achieving that.”

  “Thank you again,” Ava said, and then felt an adrenalin surge as Xu’s phone number appeared on her screen. “I have to go, Brenda. I have an incoming call.”

  “Stay in touch.”

  “I will,” Ava said, and switched lines. “Xu, I’ve been going quietly crazy waiting to hear from you. What do you have for me?”

  “After I threw those extra names at Han, he decided it was getting too complicated. So rather than him talking to Golden Emperor on our behalf, he asked for a meeting and invited me to join him in Chengdu. I told him this concerns you, so I’d send you in my place.”

  “Was he okay with that?”

  “Ava, Han has heard of you. In fact, there aren’t many Mountain Masters who don’t know your name. You have a reputation.”

  “So he was okay with me going,” she said, not wanting to ask for details of that reputation. “And Golden Emperor agreed to a meeting?”

  “They didn’t even ask why he wanted one,” Xu said. “Han is a man with a serious presence in Chengdu — he’s someone people want to please. He wants to know when you can get to Chengdu.”

  “Let me check flights,” she said, opening her laptop and quickly scanning her choices. “There’s a SilkAir flight that leaves here around one tomorrow afternoon and gets to Chengdu at five-twenty.”

  “So you can be there by early evening. I’ll call Han and tell him to set up the meeting. I want him to be there with you in person,” Xu said. “I’ll arrange for him to meet you at the airport.”

  “Both of which would be appreciated.”

  “And Ava, if you need him to lean on anyone, don’t hesitate to ask. Han is an old-fashioned kind of triad and would be pleased to do it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, wondering what Xu meant by “lean on” and hoping she would never have to find out.

  * * *

  After speaking to Xu, Ava phoned her mother to let her know she would be on the move again, and then she took a call from Fai that lasted almost an hour. Most of that was taken up by Fai talking about the film shoot. She was excited about how well it was going. Andy Gao was convinced the film would be a hit. He had told Fai she had a natural flair for romantic comedy and that he wanted to work with her again.

  “After all those years doing the darkest kind of drama, it was strange to hear,” Fai said.

  “You make me laugh.”

  “That’s because you love me.”

  “Everyone loves you,” Ava said.

  Fai went silent and then said abruptly, “Oh god, I miss you. How is your project coming along? Is there a chance you could be finished soon and get over to Taiwan?”

  “I’m going to Chengdu tomorrow morning. I don’t know how long I’ll be there, but with any luck it could be my last step towards getting Mr. Gregory’s money back,” Ava said.

  “I pray that you’re lucky.”

  When the conversation ended, Ava immediately became restless. She realized that for the first time in days there was nothing urgent for her to pursue. Howell and his people would be doing their thing in Toronto and didn’t need her to contribute. The meeting in Chengdu was set. She didn’t have all the details, but Han would share those with her when he met her at the airport. She tried to think of possible loose ends and came up with only one: Jasmine Yip. One phone call from Jasmine to Muir or Essie Cunningham and the whole thing could blow up. Had Ava’s threat been strong enough? Or, to put it in its proper perspective, who was Jasmine more afraid of, Malcolm Muir or the triads? Ava remembered Mrs. Lam’s reaction and felt a level of reassurance. The older woman understood the rules of behaviour within the structure of gangs, and after a lifetime of following them she wouldn’t be
tray them so easily. Ava decided to leave well enough alone.

  Her thoughts turned back to Howell. It was almost mid-morning in Toronto. He could have unearthed something by now, but if he had he would have called. Relax and let things unfold, she told herself. Then Pastor Sammy Rogers entered her mind and she opened her laptop. On YouTube she found a plethora of videos and clicked on the most recent, posted six months ago, with the title “Pastor Sammy Rogers at Harvest Table Anniversary.”

  The quality of the video was very good. It started with a panning shot of what seemed to be a full-to-capacity worship centre and then cut to the stage, where a choir was finishing a song with a rousing “Amen, amen, amen.” On the last “amen,” Rogers walked onto the stage with his head bowed and a Bible hanging by his side. He stood directly in front of a large illuminated cross flanked by two smaller but equally bright ones.

  Rogers raised his head and arms and shouted, “Welcome to the Harvest Table. Welcome to our house, where the Lord’s will is done.” As the congregation roared in response, he smiled and let the noise wash over him. Finally he opened the Bible and said, “This is the word of the Lord.” He then read a long passage from the Old Testament book of Job in a slow, melodic manner. After about five minutes he stopped reading and lowered his head in prayer. Ava saw that most of the people in the congregation were following his example. Then Rogers closed the Bible, kissed it, and shouted, “I believe, I believe, I believe!” He began to pace back and forth across the stage.

  He looked younger than Ava had imagined, but that image was created in part by the shoulder-length hair that he brushed back from his face as he walked. He was wearing jeans and a tight black shirt, a look that a man with his tall, rangy build could pull off. He looks more like a rock ’n’ roller than a pastor, she thought.

  When he started to speak, Rogers addressed the passage he’d just read. He began to dissect it, reciting lines from memory and imbuing them with meanings that Ava couldn’t see, but the nodding congregation seemed to understand. The video was an hour long and she’d only watched ten minutes. How much longer would he actually talk?