by Ian Hamilton
“No, I need to speak to him directly.”
“He has the number for the college. He can call you there.”
“No, I’m at a conference and I’m using my mobile. Let me give you my contact information,” Ava said, and gave her Toronto cellphone number.
“Is this about either of his daughters?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Please have him call me when he can.”
“I will pass on the message.”
Then Ava phoned downstairs to ask about laundry service. The front desk told her it could be back in her room by that evening. She left the bag outside the door for pickup and climbed into the shower. The water seemed less thick, less brown, and she stayed in longer than usual.
Her cellphone beeped when she emerged from the bathroom — a message. Already, she thought.
It was Captain Robbins’s receptionist, asking her to call back.
She dried her hair and dressed while reviewing her pitch in her head, deciding just how much she should or shouldn’t say. That was always difficult to determine when you were dealing with someone you didn’t know, and in this case, knew nothing about except that he just might be the most powerful man in Guyana.
“The office.”
“This is Ava Lee.”
“Just one second, Ms. Lee.”
Robbins was on the line almost instantly. “This is Robbins. What can I do for you?” He had an accent that sounded familiar but wasn’t like anything she had heard in Guyana.
“My name is Ava Lee and I’m afraid I’ve called you under some mildly misleading pretences. But I really need to speak to you and I was told that you’re a difficult man to get hold of.”
There was silence from his end.
“I am a Havergal graduate, by the way, and I’m in Georgetown on business, not Toronto, though that is my home. I apologize for taking this approach.” She waited for the sound of the phone being disconnected.
“Ms. Lee, who gave you this number?”
“The Canadian High Commission. I went to them for help and they said you were the man I should speak to.”
“That’s highly unusual. What kind of problem can you have that the Commission can’t help with?”
His voice was plummy, even richer than his secretary’s. His speech was slow, even, and full of confidence, in control.
“It’s a business problem with a considerable amount of money involved,” she said, invoking the magic word.
“And you think I can help?”
“I’ve been told that if anyone can, it’s you.”
“Someone thinks too highly of me. Still, it would be churlish not to try to assist a Canadian visitor recommended to me by the High Commission, and a visitor who happens to be a Havergal graduate at that. Where are you staying in Georgetown?”
“At the Phoenix.”
“This is obviously a discussion that we shouldn’t continue over the telephone. Are you going to be at the hotel this evening?”
“Certainly.”
“I’ll send someone there to meet with you. His name is Patrick West. I’m not sure when exactly he will be free, so try to leave the entire evening open if you can. I’ll give him your mobile number, and I know he has the Phoenix’s number, so if there’s any change in plans he can contact you.”
“Thank you so much.”
“No promises, mind you, but Patrick is a good man and quite resourceful. He has my confidence, so make sure you’re completely open with him.”
You clever girl, she thought as the line went dead.
The afternoon was going to drag, so Ava set out to fill it with as much activity as she could. She took a taxi back to Stabroek and wandered aimlessly for an hour. In an area close to the market she found a bookstore. Most of the offerings were second-hand but she found a copy of Tai-Pan, James Clavell’s historical novel about the early days of Hong Kong.
She was hungry but reluctant to experiment again with the local cuisine. The bookseller recommended the Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet just around the corner. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten fried chicken of any kind. Still, there weren’t many funny things they could do to it, so she decided to eat there.
Jeff was sitting in the lobby when she got back to the hotel. He waved to her. He was on the verge of becoming a nuisance.
“Are we in business today?” he asked.
“I have some things I need to do here,” she said. “You can help out, though.”
“How is that?”
“Go back to Malvern Gardens and keep tabs on Jackson Seto. You’ll have to park somewhere else this time or they’ll get suspicious. I think you should drive past the entrance and then turn the car around and park it in the direction of Georgetown. Stay about a hundred metres away. They shouldn’t notice you if they leave.”
“If they leave, I follow?”
“Only if you’re sure it’s okay. Keep well back. There aren’t that many places he can go anyway.”
“You want me to call you if anything happens?”
“Sure. Use the Guyana number you have for me.”
She checked her emails again before going upstairs. Still nothing from Seto.
Her backup cellphone was fully charged. She slipped the Guyanese SIM card into it and turned on the phone. She placed it and her regular mobile on the small table next to the rattan chair. She still had some hours to kill. Hopefully James Clavell would help.
(23)
It was dark when Ava was woken by a ringing phone. The Clavell book was open on her lap to page thirty. She looked at both her mobiles before she realized it was the hotel phone.
“Yes?” she said.
“Ava, this is Marc Lafontaine. I’m just finishing work and I’m still wondering if you would like to have dinner with me.”
She was still groggy from her nap and his name didn’t register at first. Then it clicked and she almost groaned. Half of her wanted to hang up and the other half realized she might need him again before this project was finished. “I can’t leave the hotel,” she said. “I have a meeting here tonight and I’m not sure of the time.”
“We can eat at the hotel. It’s not that bad.”
“All right, but if my appointment arrives while we’re eating I’ll have to leave.”
“I understand. I’ll see you in the lobby in, say, fifteen minutes?”
“Okay.”
She brushed her teeth using bottled water and then splashed some on her face. Her linen slacks were still presentable and she had a white cotton shirt she hadn’t worn yet. She thought about putting on makeup for her meeting with Patrick West, and then decided against it. The more innocent she looked, the better.
There was a bar and lounge beside the lobby. Marc Lafontaine was sitting at a table with a Carib beer and a bowl of peanuts in front of him. “Glad you could join me,” he said. “We don’t get many Canadians coming through here, and truthfully it gets pretty lonely. I’m grateful for the company.”
She knew he meant it, and she felt a twinge of guilt for having thought about blowing him off.
He looked at the two cellphones as she placed them on the table. “Busy girl, eh?”
“I’m trying to be. I managed to get in touch with Captain Robbins and I’m scheduled to meet one of his people here tonight at some time or another.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! You actually got through to Robbins?”
“I did.”
“That’s amazing.”
She smiled. “Well, that’s the easy part.”
“Do you want a drink?”
“White wine would be fine.”
“I’ll have to go to the bar to get it. There’s no table service here.”
He returned with her wine and another beer for himself. “They have a restaurant on the second floor. It’s Georgetown’s version of fine dining. I’ve eaten there three or four times and not gotten ill. The only thing is, they normally have only a quarter of the menu available, so I ask them what they do have ra
ther than wait to be told they don’t have something.”
“Sounds good. I just want to tell the front desk where I am before we go upstairs, in case the Captain’s man comes asking for me.”
The restaurant was empty except for them. A sign by the entrance said PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED. Ava wondered who had thought that was necessary.
They were taken to a seat by a window. The lights from the part of Georgetown that had electricity sparkled in the night. “It looks almost attractive,” he said.
She told him about meeting the Englishman Tom Benson that morning, and about his daily trek to the power company. Lafontaine laughed and told her that Benson’s attitude was the only way to deal with Guyana and still stay sane. If you expected things to change, you were a fool.
She talked about Asia and about how North Americans in particular often went with preconceived notions of how hard life must be there, only to find themselves in Hong Kong or Singapore or Bangkok or Shanghai. The lifestyle in those places was more refined and luxurious than what they would find in just about any city in North America.
The waiter appeared with menus. “Just tell us what you have,” Lafontaine said.
They had a choice of grilled snapper, broiled chicken, baked pork chops, and roast beef. There was only the one fish, and Ava chose it. Lafontaine ordered the chicken.
She asked him about his children in Ottawa. As Lafontaine began to talk about them, he suddenly caught himself. “There’s something I really need to talk to you about,” he said. “I hope you won’t think I’m being rude.”
“What is it about?”
“This morning when you told me that you were gay, you were being serious, yes? Not just keeping me at arm’s length?”
“Marc, I could not have been more serious.”
“I believe you,” he said. “The thing is, homosexuality is illegal in Guyana. In fact, it’s punishable by life imprisonment. Now, I haven’t heard about anyone being prosecuted, but the law is on the books. And they really frown on any display of affection between two people of the same sex.” He stopped, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not trying to pry into your life or anything, but you need to be careful here, circumspect.”
“I wasn’t planning on going to gay bars,” she said.
“That’s good, because there aren’t any.”
“Thanks. Enough said.”
Ava directed the conversation back towards his children. They were all teenagers and drifting away from him. She listened to him lament the fact and realized he knew absolutely nothing about girls. She was about to give him some suggestions when her Guyanese phone rang.
“Hi, Jeff,” she said.
“He left the house about an hour and a half ago and went out to eat — guess where — and then went to drink and party — guess where.”
“Same as last night.”
“He’s a creature of habit.”
“Good. Pack it in. There’s no reason to hang around there anymore tonight.”
“What are you up to?” he asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
“I’m having dinner with a friend from the Canadian High Commission, and then I have a meeting with a Guyanese government official. I’ll see you tomorrow and settle our accounts.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the restaurant host hovering. The moment she ended her phone call he walked to the table. “There are some people downstairs waiting to see you,” he said.
“Call downstairs and tell them I’ll be right there,” she said. “And bring me the bill.”
“I’m paying,” Lafontaine said.
“No, you’re not,” she said. “You’ve done quite enough for me today as it is.”
While they waited for the bill to arrive, Lafontaine said, “People? I thought you were meeting one person.”
“Me too.”
“Would you mind if I walk down with you?”
“Not at all.”
There were three people sitting in the lounge: two large black men who looked as if they had come directly from the gym to an Esquire photo shoot, and a very pale, rotund man with a sly smile and a glint in his deep blue eyes.
“Christ, that’s Robbins,” Lafontaine said.
The three stood as Ava and Lafontaine approached, and she was shocked by how physically imposing Robbins was. His men were both over six feet tall, but Robbins was a shaved head taller. His belly mounded under a black satin shirt draped over black jeans; his face was round and jowly. His heaviness made him look, if anything, more dangerous. And then there was his skin — it was the colour of paper. In a country where everyone was some variation of brown, he was a ghost.
His eyes found her and didn’t let go.
“Ah, Sergeant Lafontaine,” Robbins said, his eyes still on Ava. “So it was you who gave Ms. Lee my phone number.”
“Captain.”
“What shall I say to you for unleashing this young woman on us?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“And why would you? Look at her — a Havergal graduate, tiny, well-mannered, a Chinese doll. And then… Ah, I’m not being polite. This is Patrick and this is Robert,” he said, motioning to his men. “I thought you should meet them,” he said to Ava, “and truthfully, they wanted to meet you.
“My plan, Mr. Lafontaine, was to send Patrick to meet with Ms. Lee, but after what happened today I couldn’t resist the opportunity to meet her myself. Robert, why don’t you explain?”
“I was called by the police today after they picked up two men at the seawall,” Robert said.
Robbins interrupted. “It seems that a young Chinese woman was jogging there when she encountered these men. They are known to us, and not as particularly good citizens. Some minor theft charges, some more serious rape allegations, though never proven… Still, they told an interesting story. They claim they were sitting on the seawall, minding their own business, when this young woman ran by. They do admit they ogled her, and maybe made some inappropriate comments, but certainly did nothing to warrant the attack that ensued. One of them had his nose destroyed. The other had his windpipe crushed and is lucky to be alive. These are not small men, Mr. Lafontaine. I daresay even you or I would have found it a challenge to take on the two of them at the same time. You do jog, don’t you, Ms. Lee?”
“Once in a while.”
“The victims, or villains — call them what you will — said the woman in question came from this hotel. And as far as we can ascertain, Ms. Lee is the only Chinese woman in residence.” Robbins stared at her, his expression not the least unkind. “So tell me, how do you explain the damage you inflicted on these men?”
“I restrained myself,” Ava said.
Robbins exploded with laughter. Patrick and Robert followed suit. Marc Lafontaine looked as if he had wandered into the wrong wedding reception.
“Marc, I have business to discuss with Captain Robbins, and I don’t think you should be here,” she said softly.
“Ms. Lee is quite right. We do have business to discuss, Mr. Lafontaine,” Robbins said, wiping tears from eyes. “This is no place for you.”
Lafontaine started to say something but Ava cut him off. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
They watched him leave, the three men still chuckling. Robbins said, “When I heard this story, how could I send Patrick to meet you alone? What if he offended you?”
“Don’t make fun of me or the situation I was in. They were going to rape me. I dealt with them, that’s all.”
“Apologies,” Robbins said. “Sit, please.” Robbins sat down as well; his two men stood on either side of his chair. “I have daughters, as you know, and I am sensitive to the situation you found yourself in this afternoon. I’d like to think that anyone who tried that with my girls would be equally indisposed. Except I can’t imagine my girls inflicting that kind of damage. You are an amazing young woman, Ms. Lee. That’s why I wanted to meet you in person. I thought you would be built like a shot putter, yet here you are, not much
more than a hundred pounds soaking wet.”
“I appreciate that you came,” she said.
“I’m drinking beer. What can I get you?”
“Nothing, thank you. I’m quite sated.”
“You speak like a Havergal graduate.”
“I am one.”
“I believe you. So what is this business you’re involved in? It doesn’t sound like something a Havergal grad would pursue.”
“I’m a forensic accountant. I find money that has been misappropriated and try to return it to its rightful owner.”
“And there’s misappropriated money in Guyana?”
“No, the money is in the British Virgin Islands, but the thief is here.”
“Name?”
“Jackson Seto.”
Robbins’s eyes showed no sign of recognition, and she felt a surge of optimism. If he didn’t know the name, Seto couldn’t be all that high in the food chain.
“Boys, do you have any information for me?” Robbins asked.
Patrick leaned forward and whispered in Robbins’s ear.
The Captain looked at her and said, “Could you excuse us for a moment, Ms. Lee? We need to chat amongst ourselves.”
She left the lounge and sat in the lobby, her back deliberately turned to them. In what seemed like less than a minute there was a gentle tap on her shoulder. Patrick was looking down at her. “The Captain will talk to you now.”
Now it was just the two of them; the men had moved to the lobby.
“Seto is a friend of a friend,” Robbins said.
“I want to be a better friend.”
The Captain put his fingertips together, placing them against his nose. “To whom?”
“That’s your decision.”
“Tell me what your plans are for this Seto.”
“I have to convince him to give the money back.”
“Using logic?”
“Yes.”
“And if that fails?”
She shrugged.
“And what would we be expected to do?”
“Stay out of it. Keep everyone out of it.”
“That sounds simple enough.”
