by H. Y. Hanna
A sudden burst of laughter outside the study door made her freeze. Leah stared in horror at the closed door. Toran lifted his head from behind the desk, his green eyes guarded. Leah got up slowly and crept to the door. A loud, drunken voice laughed again and slurred something, then there was a muffled thump in the hallway on the other side, like a body slumping into the wall.
“I’m sorry, sir, but this area is off limits to guests.”
“Wharrayu say? Ama no loss… jus lookaforra barroom. Needa pee. Thos… overeer…”
“No, sir, the restrooms are on the other side. If you go back along this hallway and turn right past the staircase, you’ll see the marked doors.”
“Orrite then… cheers…”
“This way, sir…”
The voices faded away. Leah’s body relaxed, her muscles unclenching. She could feel beads of perspiration lining her back. She looked over at Toran. He still looked infuriatingly calm and collected.
“How much longer?” she asked.
“Two numbers left.”
Leah blew out a sigh and looked up at the ceiling, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders. They were almost there, she told herself. This was going to work.
Then a new voice in the hallway outside made her stiffen.
Deep. Confident. Australian.
“I’ll just check in my study, Nathan. I might have a couple stashed in there. You haven’t tried anything ’till you’ve tried a Cohiba cigar.”
Bentley Warne.
CHAPTER 28
Leah opened the door a crack. Warne was still at the bend in the hallway, standing next to the guard. He was looking back towards the foyer, laughing and talking to someone there. Neither of them was looking this way.
Leah glanced back into the study. Toran was still bent over the safe, his brow furrowed in concentration. With the stethoscope in his ears, he hadn’t heard Warne yet. Leah bit her lip. She had to intercept Warne. Give Toran more time. Her heart thudding, she stepped quietly out into the hallway and shut the study door behind her. She couldn’t let Warne see her near the study, couldn’t afford to give him anything that might arouse his suspicions. Quickly, Leah darted down the remainder of the hallway, until she reached the small, inner lobby at the other end. She just managed to get there and spin around before Warne finished his conversation and turned to head to the study.
Leah lifted her chin and started walking towards him, pivoting on her heels slightly, as if she had just turned around the corner. She hoped that might give the illusion that she had just come from the back of the house. She saw Warne alert as he saw her, then slow his steps as she approached him. Recognition flared in his eyes and he stopped dead.
“Hello, Mr Warne,” said Leah, giving him a cool smile. “I’ve been looking all over the house for you. But then, I believe you’ve been looking for me too.”
He went very still, then said smoothly, “Miss… Fisher, isn’t it? David’s daughter. I see the resemblance.”
He had a deep baritone that would have been good for delivering sermons. In person, Warne was even more impressive than in his photographs—a big man with easy charisma. He didn’t seem to be in costume—he was wearing his usual pinstriped suit—unless he was going for the hospital board executive look, Leah thought wryly.
Warne moved forwards to take both her hands in his. “I’m truly sorry about your father. A terrible tragedy. He was a wonderful man and a fine friend.”
Leah tried not to show any emotion as she listened to the tremor of sorrow in Warne’s voice, but a wave of anger swept her. Oh, he was good. Anyone listening to him could almost believe that he was genuinely devastated by her father’s death. Well, two could play the game. She said, injecting a slight sob into her own voice, “Yes, it was a terrible shock.”
“I believe you’ve not been back to Singapore for a long time. Do you have any close friends or family still here?”
As if you don’t know. Leah gave him a wide smile. “Only you.”
Warne blinked, then returned her smile. “Well, of course. David worked for me for so many years, he was almost like family. I hope you feel that you can come to me for anything you need. Anything at all.”
Leah nodded and gave him another meaningless smile, her mind racing. They were reaching an impasse. The social niceties over, she could see the wheels of Warne’s mind turning, trying to assess the situation, decide if she was a threat. She couldn’t let him start to think too much, to wonder why she had come to the party. Especially not here. They were standing too close to the study door. She knew that Toran could hear them. She hoped fervently that he wouldn’t do his chivalrous act now and come storming out to protect her. She needed him to focus on opening the safe and retrieving the keys, otherwise all the risks would be for nothing.
“Do you dance, Mr Warne? I haven’t been able to find a partner and I love the music your band is playing.” She gave Warne’s hand a playful tug, trying to move him back up the hallway, towards the main foyer. For Toran’s sake, she needed to get Warne away from the study. And for her own sake, she needed to get closer to other people.
Warne’s fingers tightened around hers and, for a panicked moment, Leah thought that he was going to resist—then he fell into step beside her as she led him back up the hallway.
“It would be a pleasure,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And please, do call me Bentley.”
“That’s an unusual name,” said Leah, as he led her into the main ballroom and swung her into his arms.
He laughed easily. “My mother. She chose it because she thought it was the only way our family could ever afford a Bentley.”
“She should have had more faith in you,” said Leah with a coy smile.
He inclined his leonine head. “Now she lives in a house with a garage big enough for six Bentleys. And you, Miss Fisher? Where do you call home?”
“London,” she said.
“No plans to come back and settle in Singapore, then?”
He was testing her, Leah realised. He still wasn’t quite sure what she wanted, what she was doing here, so he was playing for time. They swung near a group of guests in the corner of the ballroom and Leah caught sight of a familiar face. Detective Inspector Ravi. He was holding a glass of champagne and looking slightly at a loss, as his wife gossiped to another woman next to him. He glanced up as Leah twirled past and their eyes met. Then she was led away by Warne again as the music changed tempo.
“My life is in London now,” Leah said. “Although it’s been nice catching up with some old friends from school, such as Julia.” She nodded across the room to her friend, who was standing by the French windows, talking and laughing with two other women. She wanted Warne to know that she wasn’t here alone, that someone would be looking for her if she conveniently “disappeared”.
“Ah, yes, Arnold Yap’s wife,” Warne murmured, swinging her through one of the open French windows and out onto the terrace.
It was warm outside and Leah was grateful for the breeze that whispered against her heated skin. The brilliant light from the chandeliers in the ballroom was muted out here on the terrace and the few people standing around were just hazy silhouettes. Some were swaying to the music, but most were talking and looking out onto the back gardens.
Warne guided her expertly in a figure of eight, and said, just as he completed the turn, “And your friend, Toran James?”
He nearly caught her off guard. Leah fought to keep her voice steady as he moved her in time to the music. “Toran? I… he… you mean, the Toran James who was killed in the yacht accident last week?” She licked her lips. “I heard about that. Terrible tragedy. But… um… he wasn’t really a close friend.”
Warne laughed softly, an unpleasant sound. “Come, come, Leah, I think the time for lying is long past, don’t you?”
Leah realised with alarm that they were down at the far end of the terrace now, deep in the shadows behind the giant Corinthian columns flanking the edges of the terrace. The music fro
m the ballroom was very faint. Over Warne’s shoulder, she could see a few steps leading down to a back deck and an enormous pool. It was unlit and the surface of the black water shimmered slightly in the moonlight. She jerked out of Warne’s arms and turned to head back to the ballroom, but his hand snaked out and clamped on her wrist.
He yanked her around to face him, all traces of the smooth businessman gone. A vein stood out on the side of his temple and the expression on his face was ugly. “What the hell are you doing in my house, you little bitch?”
He doesn’t realise Toran is here with me, thought Leah wildly. He doesn’t know that Toran is in the study. I must keep him from finding out. She tried to yank her wrist from his grasp, but he held firm, tightening his hold until his fingernails dug cruelly into her skin. Leah winced and stopped struggling. “I… I wanted to see you,” she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice. “I wanted to know why you had me kidnapped.”
“You know why,” said Warne. “You have something which belongs to me. I want it back.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Warne gave her a shove which sent her reeling down the steps. Leah stumbled and caught herself just at the edge of the pool. She regained her balance and opened her mouth to scream—and found Warne standing in front of her. Something cold and hard touched her throat.
“Scream and it will be the last sound you ever make,” he said.
Leah stared down at the gleaming silver blade of a kris dagger which was jammed against her throat. It was a different one from the gold dagger Warne used to carry. This one had an ivory handle inlaid with turquoise stones. She swallowed and felt the cold steel press deeper into the soft skin of her neck.
“People will still hear. How will you be able to explain away a dead woman’s body this time? You won’t have my father to help you,” said Leah breathlessly.
“I don’t need your father,” growled Warne. “This is my house. I could say that you got upset, hysterical, when I tried to comfort you about your father and grabbed my dagger from my belt. I was trying to wrestle it from you when it slipped and stabbed you fatally in the throat.”
“That’s such a lame story,” gasped Leah. “No one would believe you!”
“Ah, but who’s going to contradict me?” said Warne softly. “You’d be the only person who could say otherwise and… you’d be dead.”
Leah swallowed again. Her eyes darted around, looking for some kind of escape. She took another step back and realised that she was right at the edge of the pool. The memory of that Valentine’s Day in Eighth Grade flashed through her mind—going out into the school gardens to find Toran, backing up against the pond. He had pulled her back from the edge and saved her from nearly falling in. But he wasn’t here now.
As if he had read her mind, Warne leaned forwards and bared his teeth in a mocking smile. “I hope you’re not expecting your friend, Toran, to save you. I’m afraid he might be slightly occupied at the moment.” He laughed as Leah’s eyes widened. “Did you really think you could fool me with your little act? Yes, I thought he might be in my study. I gave a signal just now to one of my men who was out on the terrace. They’ve gone to take care of him. And now,” he said, coming closer still, so that she could smell the reek of brandy on his breath. “I think it’s time to take care of you.”
CHAPTER 29
Just one more number.
Toran massaged the stiffness from his neck, then bent over the safe again. Slowly he turned the dial, his eyes closed in concentration. Or at least, trying to concentrate. But half of his mind was outside the room, wondering where Leah was, what she was doing, if she was safe.
It had taken all his self-control not to rush out when he had heard Warne’s voice outside. Instantly, Toran had realised that Leah was trying to bait Warne and draw him away. His stomach had clenched with fear for her, while something in his heart had warmed at her bravery. He knew that the best thing he could do was to make her risk worthwhile—to stay quiet and finish cracking the combination.
Besides, he’d told himself that she would be fine. Leah was obviously leading Warne back to the heart of the party where she would be surrounded by people. She’d be perfectly safe.
Still, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease that had settled on him, like a damp towel around his neck, cold and clinging. He shook his head and forced his mind back to the safe in front of him. The sooner he was finished here, the sooner he’d be able to go find Leah.
Click…click…click…click…click…CLICK.
Toran sat back with a smile. He removed the stethoscope and carefully turned the handle of the safe. The heavy steel door swung open soundlessly. The safe was fairly full, filled with papers and boxes, but Toran immediately zeroed in on the bunch of keys lying in the corner. He fished them out, shut the safe again, and gave the dial a final twirl. Then he stood up, stretching and easing the cramps from his long legs.
Something sounded outside in the hallway.
Footsteps. Approaching.
Toran stiffened. He glanced around. He needed to hide the keys somewhere. Being caught with stolen property would turn him into a criminal, whereas he might still be able to talk his way out of here.
He picked up a packet of gum from Warne’s desk, removed several sticks and popped them into his mouth, chewing rapidly. Darting over to the study windows behind the desk, he opened them, then spat the gum out into his other hand. It was a big, sticky wad. He wrapped the gum carefully around the ring of keys, then stuck his head out of the window, looking down. The colonial design of the house meant that decorative grooves had been cut into the walls, running parallel to the window sill.
He lowered the wad of gum with the keys as low as he could reach and pressed it to the underside of one of the grooves. Now, it was hidden from sight from above. He didn’t know how long the gum would hold—it depended on how heavy the keys were—but it was a chance he would have to take. Quickly, he ducked back and shut the window.
When the door to the study opened, Toran was on the other side of the desk, pretending to examine a jade figurine displayed on one of the bookshelves. He forced himself to turn nonchalantly around.
Two of Warne’s men stood in the doorway. Toran recognised one of them as the man he had fought at the villa. The other man was Curtis, who was still sporting a black eye from their encounter the night he followed Leah to the cable car.
“Out,” Curtis growled.
Toran gave a lazy smile. “I was just admiring Mr Warne’s jade collection. I think I might have seen a similar piece at the Asian Civilisations Museum and—”
“This study is private and off limits,” said Curtis coldly. “I could have you arrested for trespassing.”
Toran laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous. I thought Mr Warne had opened his house up to all his guests? Don’t tell me he’s going back on his generosity now? That’s not like Bentley.”
Curtis took a step into the room. Toran shrugged and sauntered over to the door. As he passed them, he felt rather than saw Curtis lunge towards him. Toran sidestepped and jerked his elbow up into the other man’s face, smashing his nose. Blood spurted and Curtis bellowed in pain, clutching his nose. The second man jumped for Toran, who spun around and delivered a punch to his jaw, followed by an uppercut that had him reeling back against Curtis. Both men crashed into the wall. Toran pushed past them and ran, back up the hallway, towards the foyer.
They were coming after him. Toran could hear them panting and shouting behind him, pushing guests out of the way as they tried to get through the crowd. The air filled with indignant yells of “Hey!” and “Watch it!” as guests were shoved aside.
Toran didn’t look back. He took a left turn into the ballroom, shouldering his way through a group of women with an apologetic smile that had them parting eagerly for him. He stepped through and found himself at the edge of the dance floor. He looked frantically around, peering over the heads of the couples swinging past. He co
uldn’t see Leah anywhere. And he couldn’t see Warne either.
Fear gripped him again. But before he could rush across the room and out through the open terrace windows, he felt a hand grab his shoulder. It was Curtis. Toran scanned the room. Two more of Warne’s men were coming in from the terrace. He clenched his fists, his muscles tensing as he prepared to fight.
Then a cool, polite voice sounded above the hubbub of the crowd. “Is there a problem?”
Toran turned to see a short Indian man with an elegant moustache standing next to him. He felt Curtis’s hand ease off his shoulder.
“No, no problem, Inspector Ravi. We were… uh… just escorting this gentleman off the premises.”
“Leah,” said Toran urgently to the inspector. “Have you seen Leah? Leah Fisher? She’s the daughter of David Fisher who was—”
“Yes, I know Miss Fisher,” said Inspector Ravi. “I just saw her dancing with Mr Warne. I believe they went out on the terrace.”
“She’s in danger!” said Toran. “We’ve got to find her.” He turned to head towards the terrace. Curtis grabbed him again and Toran shook him off violently. Two other men jumped on Toran and held him tight.
“We caught this man in Mr Warne’s study, sir,” said Curtis, turning to the inspector. “You should arrest him.”
“Fine, arrest me,” said Toran impatiently. “But go out and find Leah! Please! I’m begging you—something could be happening to her!”
Inspector Ravi hesitated, then something in Toran’s face must have convinced him because he nodded curtly and said to Curtis, “Release him.”
“But, sir—”
“I’ll take responsibility for him,” said the inspector, motioning to the other men to step back.
Toran wasted no time explaining. He turned and dived towards the French windows, racing out onto the terrace.
“Leah? Leah? LEAH!”
The people on the terrace turned and stared at him in surprise. Other people had followed him out of the ballroom and were pointing and whispering. In the background, Toran heard Julia’s voice crying, “Oh my God, has something happened to Leah?” More people spilled out of the ballroom, following him as he ran across the terrace.
