by Ian Hamilton
Traffic thickened as they eased their way into Kowloon and towards the Cross-Harbour Tunnel, which would take them to Hong Kong Island and the Central District. It wasn’t even remotely close to what non-rush-hour traffic was like in Manila, but it was bad enough that the driver was cursing vehemently in Cantonese.
“Hey, stop that,” Ava snapped. “I can understand you. We’ll get there when we get there.”
The driver turned around and looked at her sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said.
For just a second Ava felt like her mother, Jennie Lee, calling out a rude associate in a store or server in a restaurant. “Momentai,” she said.
“What was that about?” Dulles said.
“Nothing worth mentioning.”
It was almost a quarter to eleven by the time they reached the Shangri-La. Once they had checked in, Dulles headed for a lobby phone and asked to be connected to Allison’s room. A voice he didn’t recognize answered.
“This is Alasdair Dulles. I’m trying to reach Mr. Allison. He’s expecting me.”
“Come to the Presidential Suite, on the top floor,” the voice responded.
“He’ll see us now. Do you want to drop off your bag first?” Dulles asked.
“No, let’s go,” Ava said.
The hotel occupied half of one of the Pacific Place Towers in the Admiralty section of Central. The bottom half of the tower was filled with commercial retailers and the hotel occupied the upper half, all the way up to the fifty-sixth floor. She had been in the hotel before and ridden the glass-lined elevator to the top level. Dulles obviously hadn’t. He reacted visibly when they started to pass a painted silk mural that depicted a range of brightly coloured mountains, covered in trees and towering above a river. It seemed to stretch upwards forever.
“It’s called The Great Motherland,” Ava said. “It’s sixteen storeys high and it’s the largest silk mural in the world.”
They exited the elevator and saw a sign for the suite. They headed down the corridor to a set of double doors with buzzers on either side. Dulles pressed the buzzer on the right and the door opened almost at once. The doorway was filled by a massive man in a white shirt that was stretched tight across his chest and shoulders. Wordlessly he stood to one side and they walked past him.
The suite was immense, with a separate kitchen, living room, and dining room. The most striking feature was the floor-to-ceiling window that offered a view of Hong Kong’s spectacular skyline, Victoria Harbour, and beyond, to Tsim Sha Tsui on the Kowloon side.
“Mr. Allison will be with you in a minute,” the man said. “He’d like you to sit at the dining room table.”
The table was long enough to comfortably accommodate twelve chairs. Ava chose a chair that faced the window; Dulles sat next to her. A bottle of water and glasses sat on a tray, and Dulles poured himself a glass. They waited quietly for five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes while the man, who Ava assumed was a bodyguard, sat on a couch in the living room and watched television with the sound lowered. Once she thought she heard Allison’s voice through a closed door that she imagined led to a bedroom. As the minutes passed it became hard to think that Allision wasn’t being rude, but Dulles didn’t seem as bothered as her. At the half-hour mark she debated asking the bodyguard to knock on the door to remind Allison that they were there. Before she could do or say anything, the door opened and Allison emerged.
Ava knew of him only by name, and any impressions had come from listening to his conversation with Dulles. He had sounded cultured, and the man who walked towards them didn’t dispel that image. He was of medium height — she guessed no more than five foot nine —and had a trim build. Everything about him was impeccable, from his full head of carefully coiffed silver hair to what looked like a custom-made grey pinstriped suit, set off by a crisp white shirt, a tightly knotted red Hermès tie, and a pair of brown leather shoes that she was sure had been handmade in London. There wasn’t anything about him that looked out of place, and there wasn’t a wrinkle where one shouldn’t be.
“Sorry for the delay,” he said. “I was talking to the office in Dallas.”
Dulles stood up to face him. “Thanks for seeing us.”
“How could I possibly say no?” Allison said, and then made a right turn past the table and stood in front of the window. “For my money, this is the greatest view on earth. Natural wonders are just that — natural. This harbour would be impressive by itself, I guess, but when you add man’s creative element, it takes it to an entirely different level.”
When neither Dulles nor Ava responded, Allison swivelled to face them and extended a hand. “You haven’t changed much since I saw you in London,” he said.
“You haven’t either,” Dulles said as he shook his hand.
“I’ll be seventy next year,” Allison said.
“I would never have guessed.”
“Good genes, good diet, stress management, and lots of exercise.”
“It’s an ideal combination.”
Allison looked at the table and finally seemed to realize that Ava was sitting there. She stood and offered her hand. “My name is Ava Lee,” she said.
“And you’re a colleague of Alasdair’s?”
“You could say that.”
“Ah, more intrigue.” Allison smiled. “Now, would either of you like anything else to drink? Or perhaps we can get you something to eat?”
“I’m fine,” Ava and Dulles said at the same time.
Allison sat across from them with his hands resting on the table. Ava saw that he was wearing cufflinks that looked like platinum encrusted with rubies.
“Did you check on the status of my security clearance?” he asked Dulles.
“No. I took you at your word.”
“I didn’t think you fellows took anyone at their word.”
“I don’t know which fellows you’re referring to.”
“The CIA fellows.”
“We’re a very large organization and hardly homogeneous.”
“Which branch are you with?”
“I don’t think that matters.”
“No, I guess it really doesn’t. We’re all playing our roles on the same team, and by that I mean Team USA,” Allison said.
“Precisely.”
“My partners in Lebanon, I regret to say, don’t share that sense of camaraderie,” he said. “I’ve spoken to them many times today, in fact, so many times that they were getting very annoyed with me.”
“But I assume you were ultimately successful.”
“That depends on your expectations.”
“To begin with, we want to know how Omar Obeidat, operating under the name Fileeb al-Touma — and, incidentally, a former member of the Jordanian security service — managed to extract about five million dollars from your casino over the past two or three years.”
“It is inaccurate to refer to it as my casino,” Allison said. “I have no involvement with it at all. My partners in Beirut look after our interests.”
“That may be true, but we’ve been told that the day-to-day operations are managed by Pinetree Gaming, and Pinetree is owned by the Harvest Group, which in turned is owned by you.”
“And I don’t spend ten minutes a month thinking about Pinetree. It’s simply an investment I wish I hadn’t made.”
“Excuse me, but I think we’re splitting hairs here,” Ava said. “We started this conversation with your saying you’ve spoken to your partners. What did they tell you?”
Allison looked at her as if surprised she had the nerve to speak. “That’s very direct of you,” he said.
“That’s my style, and I apologize if you find it offensive.”
“No, not at all,” Allison said. “We should stay on topic, and regardless of who owns or controls what, the topic is the Paradise Casino. And that leads me to a question my partners asked: what
makes you so convinced that all this money you’re talking about came from there?”
“The cash deposits al-Touma made at the bank came wrapped in Paradise Casino strips,” Dulles said.
“Why would he make it that obvious? It could have been a ruse, an attempt to deflect attention away from the real source.”
“It’s actually more likely that he wanted the bank to see the strips because he wanted them to know where the money came from. The strips connect him to the casino, and when the casino swears that he’s one hell of a gambler, al-Touma has his cover story.”
“That’s another question my partners had. What makes you so sure that he’s not a terrific gambler?”
“Mr. Allison, I’ve spent more time than I care to remember sitting in casinos watching my mother gamble. When I was studying to become an accountant, one of the things I wanted to understand was the economics of casino gambling, so I took it as an elective,” Ava said. “No one — and I mean no one — can consistently beat the house for large sums of money. Odds are odds and math is math. Casinos aren’t built to give money away.”
“And if there’s any doubt about that,” Dulles said, “we know when al-Touma made his deposits. Between that and getting a fix on flights between Beirut and Amman, we can figure out when he was at the casino. Then we’ll get the security footage for those days and see how, when, where, and for how much he gambled, and we’ll take a look at how he was paid out.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Allison said.
“Why not?”
“Because this al-Touma did receive the money from the casino. He may have a gambled a little, but that was pretense. Somehow my partners contrived to funnel millions of dollars to this man.”
“Did they admit that to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me, why didn’t you say that ten minutes ago instead of pretending you had no idea what went on?”
“I wanted to see how honest you would be with me.”
“Do you mean you wanted to see how much we knew?” Ava said.
Allison shrugged. “When there are conflicting stories, I like to hear both sides before rushing to judgement.”
“Where’s the conflict?” Dulles asked.
“You implied earlier today that the casino was knowingly financing a terrorist organization. My partners tell me they were being extorted and had no idea what the money was being used for.”
“Being extorted how?”
“Several years ago, this al-Touma arranged a meeting through some Lebanese military people with my partners at the casino. He told them he knew about their investment and that he and some Lebanese colleagues were prepared to offer them protection in return for regular payments. Al-Touma implied that the colleagues he was referring to were military and that the protection would be from them.”
“And they obviously agreed to pay.”
“Of course they did. He said if they didn’t, he couldn’t guarantee the safety of the casino or their families.”
“But it was Pinetree Gaming that was managing the casino,” Ava said. “How did your partners arrange to make payments from the casino without Pinetree’s knowledge?”
“The partners told the casino’s management what was going on and instructed them to keep it quiet.”
“And they did? They didn’t tell anyone at the office in Atlanta?”
“Evidently not. But you should understand that the management team on the ground is local, and they were sympathetic to my partners’ dilemma. And, being local, they took the threats seriously.”
“Tom, how well do you know these partners?”
“We’re not buddies and we don’t socialize, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said. “But we’ve done a few deals over the years that worked out okay.”
“Why partner with them in the casino?”
“We needed local ownership in order to get a licence.”
“So you don’t know that much about them on a personal level?”
“What are you really asking?”
“Tom, is it possible that any of your partners could be associated with a militant Islamic group?” Dulles asked.
Allison’s face clouded, and then he shook his head and a grin emerged. “They’re Christians, for goodness’ sake.”
“So we were told, but they live in Lebanon, and who knows what forces are at work there,” Dulles said. “For example, would any of your partners have any antipathy towards Jews?”
“Certainly not.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“I may not know them that well, but over the years we’ve had discussions and I’ve never heard either of them say anything or act in any way that could be construed as anti-Semitic — and that is something I’m very sensitive to,” he said. “I assume there’s a reason for that question that hasn’t been shared.”
“The terrorist organization that we think has been getting the casino’s money appears to be primarily targeting Israel and the Jewish population in the United States.”
Allison looked hard at Dulles. “Being targeted is nothing new for Israel.”
“This isn’t just about Israel. Many of the Jews they’ve targeted live in the United States. Evidently they believe they can harm Israel by attacking the people who support it.”
Allison turned his face away. Ava saw his jaw clench, and both of his hands were now balled tightly into fists. He stood up.
“Excuse me, I’ll be back,” he said.
( 32 )
Ava looked at Dulles and then glanced at the bodyguard, who was still sitting on the sofa supposedly watching television. She wondered how much he had heard, how much he had understood, how well he had been briefed.
“That was interesting,” she said.
Dulles nodded as he poured himself another glass of water.
This time they waited only ten minutes before the door opened and Allison re-emerged. His face glistened in the light and Ava could see damp stains on his collar. “George,” he said to the man on the sofa, “bring me a bottle of cognac and three snifters, please.”
He rejoined them at the table. His face was tightly drawn, and the overhead lights hit his face in such a way that Ava could see tiny scars around his eyes, the kind left by plastic surgery. He seemed troubled.
“You will have a drink, won’t you?” he said. “The cognac is Louis Royer Force 53. I think it’s the finest in the world.”
“Sure,” Dulles said.
“I will as well,” said Ava.
“I have to say I need one,” Allison said. “This conversation has jolted me.”
“Can we continue?” Dulles said. Allison nodded.
“Thank you,” Dulles said and leaned towards him. “Tom, do your partners have any contact information for al-Touma? Do they have any way of reaching him if they have to?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask them.”
“Will you?”
“Of course.”
George came to the table with an ice bucket, a bottle encased in a pierced metal cylinder, and three crystal snifters on a tray.
“I take my cognac neat. How about you two?” Allison said.
They both nodded. George poured the equivalent of three fingers into each glass. Ava thought the cognac looked like liquid honey.
Allison swirled his around in the glass and said, “Cheers.”
Ava took a sip. It was so smooth that it made the cognac she’d had on the plane taste like cheap brandy. “This is superb,” she said.
“When do you think you can call your partners?” Dulles said.
“I’ll try to reach them later tonight.”
“When you do, call me. I don’t care what time it is.”
“I understand your sense of urgency,” Allison said, and then stood and walked to the window with his g
lass in his hand. He gazed out over the harbour and, with his back still turned to them, said, “Alasdair, I have a few questions for you.”
“Feel free to ask them.”
“You mentioned that al-Touma was a member of the Jordanian secret service. What makes you think he’s not still working for them?”
“We’ve been in touch with them. He left the service ages ago.”
“He could be undercover.”
“They would have told us.”
“So you think that he’s now working for a terrorist organization.”
“We do.”
“Which one?”
“We don’t know yet, but you can be assured that we’ll locate al-Touma, and when we do, we’ll find out.”
“Do you have any hunches?”
“No.”
“Don’t you find it strange that you were told about this plot in some detail but your sources can’t link it to any organization?”
“I hadn’t thought about it in that light.”
“But you’re convinced that your sources, your informants, are reliable?”
“We are, and so far the information they’ve provided has proven to be accurate.”
“Who are these informants?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“But they were persuasive enough to convince you that some unknown terrorist organization is going to be attacking Israel and American Jews?”
“Yes. The only remotely comforting thing we’ve learned is that the attacks aren’t planned for the immediate future. We think we have time to locate whoever is behind this.”
“Do you have any idea how many of them there are? Do you have any clues about where they intend to strike?”
“Tom, I can’t get into that level of detail with you.”
Ava could see Allison’s reflection in the window. His face was tight and his eyes were narrowed. He looked like a man struggling to maintain control.
“I have some other questions for you that are less sensitive,” Allison said. “But they are self-serving.”
“I think we can handle that.”
“Well, did you know that I was one of the three largest donors to the Republican Party last year?”
