Her face fell. “You knew about the condo?”
I gave her an enigmatic tilt of my head, raising one shoulder as if to say, “I’m the boss, always one step ahead.”
She let me have my fun. The banter was a great way to shift all the heavy we carried. “One of the young women told me Whitmore keeps it and arranges for entertainment for the whales who want to indulge in excesses but under the radar in case Big Brother takes a dim view.”
“And Miss Liu goes along with that?”
“Good question, don’t you think?”
Her face crumpled into a frown. “If she’s in on it, that’s like being betrayed by your own gender.”
“Even worse than the men doing it, isn’t it? We women have to stick together. Want to go on a seek-and-destroy mission? Could be dangerous.” I stuffed my feet back in my shoes.
Miss P did the same, although her feet, her shoes. “I thought you’d never ask.”
That knife. The murder weapon.
I knew what I was looking for, but I had no idea if I would find it, but I needed a chink in Ol’ Irv’s armor, some serious leverage, and I was tired of waiting.
Probably stupid, but, if my past had taught me anything, stupid sometimes was the way to go.
I texted Ming. Can you give me location of Gittings and Whitmore?
I waited, staring at my phone. Miss P said Gittings was staying in the apartment, so I knew, if he wasn’t there, then we’d have a green light.
Gittings in Panda room. Will keep him there.
If he moves. Let me know.
Ok.
Miss P and I strolled out of the hotel as if we had nowhere to go and all day to get there. Nobody stopped us; nobody paid any attention, at least not that I could tell.
Soon, I was grateful for the cover of darkness. “What’s the date?”
Miss P thought for a moment before answering. “The thirtieth.”
“And we’ll get a day back heading home?”
“Fifteen hours.”
“We just might make it.”
“If we don’t die or get arrested.”
My self-delusion running at full-throttle, I was feeling practically giddy with optimism—and amped on caffeine after having downed half the second pot. “Oh, ye of little faith. We got this.”
“How are we going to play this little part of the adventure?” Miss P’s voice hadn’t lost its bravado.
Which left me to contemplate where bravery morphed into stupidity. Of course, I probably crossed that line the minute I got on that airplane heading here, rendering the question moot. “I’ll play it. You follow. If things go south, run like hell and don’t stop until you hit Vegas. Plane is in Hong Kong.”
“Good to know.” She hooked an arm through mine.
“When you have a chance, you might want to have it relocated to the airport here.”
“Will do, but, for the record, we leave together or not at all.”
“Good to know.” With one hand, I covered her smaller one that rested on my forearm. “We should be okay. According to Ming, Ol’ Irv is busy in the junket rooms.”
Hiking up the drive of the neighboring property, I didn’t even shorten my stride, fearing a slight loss in momentum would lead to total immobility. I pushed through the door, then adopted an air of authority. Miss P had loosened my arm and now let me lead the way.
The lobby was chic contemporary in hues of light purple and gray. Icicles of crystal hung from high ceilings refracting the light. Carpets of red and orange brightened and softened the grey stone tiles underneath. Cool, aloof, with barely a hint of warmth—Ol’ Irv would feel right at home.
I stepped to the desk where a young man waited with his hands clasped behind his back and a look of disinterest in his eyes. “The manager, please?”
He gave me a tight-lipped grimace and a nod, which clearly pained him, then disappeared around a partition behind him. Miss P darted me a glance as we both tried to act casual. My heart hammered and I felt on the verge of passing out—clearly a life of crime was not a good fallback if the casino thing didn’t work out. Of course, riding the South China Sea with Sinjin did have its romantic appeal…
A short, stocky woman pressed into an unflattering blue-skirted suit reminiscent of the eighties, sensible shoes, tight, thin lips, and a no-nonsense attitude, stepped around the partition. “How may I be of assistance?” Her voice was a gravelly growl.
And here I’d wondered what happened to all the female adversaries in those Bond movies. My imagination revved into overdrive. I decided to keep the desk between us in case she had that curare tipped pointy thing in the toe of her shoe. I figured I had her by ten inches, too many pounds for my delicate ego, and a decade of experience. I could take her…even if she had curare on her side. “I’m Lucky O’Toole, an executive with Tigris.”
“Yes.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but one thing for sure, she couldn’t look any less impressed. This wasn’t going as I’d hoped, but it was going about as I expected once I saw her. “My property next door is paying for a condo here.”
“Yes?”
I’d guessed right. “I’d like a key.”
“Can you prove who you are?”
Ouch. Thirty seconds later I’d given her my bona fides, obtained a key, verbally eviscerated her, and Miss P and I were now en route in the elevator to the top floor.
“You left her bleeding but barely alive.”
I didn’t hear any judge in her assessment. “Collateral damage. She knew who I was and was jerking my chain for fun.”
“How do you know?”
“I fired her two years ago. I’d be willing to bet we have no more than ten minutes. She’ll call Whitmore.”
Miss P took that in stride. “Wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy.”
“Said the bull rider at her first rodeo. Easy would be good—unexpected, but good.”
“Pricy property,” she said with a snarl. “Our auditors…”
“Have some answering to do.” The ostentation impressed even little ol’ jaded me. “At least Ryan Whitmore didn’t skimp on his sinning.”
“Can’t trust the help,” she deadpanned, without even a smidge of irony.
She needed to teach me how to do that—lately everybody seemed to read me like a book. Mesmerized, we both watched the numbers flash by. Too soon the doors slid open, delivering us to the penthouse floor. At least I had my answer—Whitmore more than likely padded his income on the side. And he curried favor with Cho to have business thrown his way—wealthy men who were looking for a woman to rough up.
The thought made me want to kill somebody. “Whitmore always was good at hiding his sins. After all these years, I’m sure he has it down to a fine art. Seeing how he pulled it off will be educational.”
Apparently, there were two penthouses, an A and a B. The key was marked with a B, making the choice easy. “The B team,” I whispered as I put a finger to my lips. The key actually worked a magnetic lock that opened with a barely discernible click. With Miss P guarding my back, I eased the door inward on silent hinges. No lights, no sound…apparently, we were alone.
My heart slowed just a bit as I motioned Miss P inside. Plush carpet muffled our footfalls as I shut the door behind her. “We don’t have long.”
“What are we looking for?”
We both surveyed the large, open great room. Couches and chairs, clustered around small tables, but in the half-light filtering through the large windows the detail was lost. “An ivory-handled knife and anything else we can use against Gittings for sure, and Whitmore for maybe. He pegs my creep meter, and I’m going to take him down whether Miss Liu likes it or not.”
“Fire his ass, for starters.” Familiar with my oddities, Miss P nodded, her expression serious. “Should we split up?”
“Makes the most sense, but isn’t that the one decision in those slasher movies that gets the pretty blonde hacked to bits?”
Instead of buying my bullshit, she point
ed behind me. “You go that way.”
“And you’ll go?”
“Not that way.”
With our banter back, I felt better as I felt my way in the weak light. The great room was devoid of personal effects, as if carefully staged to impress. Tiptoeing, I opened doors, dove into closets, but found nothing interesting. A set of double doors at the end of the room beckoned. Pushing them open, I stepped into a large sitting room. A double-sided fireplace separated the cozy cluster of a sectional couch wrapped around an inlaid coffee table with the bedroom beyond.
A text dinged. My heart jumped out of my chest. “Shit,” I whispered. Not sure why. If anyone was on this entire floor that ding just alerted them to the fact they weren’t alone.
Gittings moving.
“Hurry,” I raised my voice slightly so Miss P could hear. “I was right. Gittings is on the move.”
Where is he?
Stairs that move to lobby.
“Five minutes.” He’s on the escalators at the hotel and in a hurry.
“Got it.”
With a renewed sense of urgency, I fingered through the pile of magazines on the table. Nothing of great interest—mostly porn. Must be Ol’ Irv’s inner sanctum. I fought a shiver of revulsion.
Its burnished wood surface uncluttered, the desk in the corner hadn’t been used…well not for business, at least. Ol’ Irv had a desk back home…the thought made me shudder. He’d etched the names of the women he’d taken on the thing in the ancient mahogany. Thankfully, mine hadn’t been one of them—even then there’d been a limit to my stupidity.
The bedroom looked a bit more lived in—the heavy damask quilt thrown back, the sheets wrinkled. The whole place had my nerves firing, my muscles twitching, my brain shouting, “Run!”
Another text. Outside now. Running.
Now I really did need to run. “Gotta go!”
I paused for one more look. It had to be here. Fighting the urge to run, I turned slowly, focusing, letting my gaze linger on the furniture, the credenza under the television hanging on the wall, the nightstand, the low bench at the foot of the bed, the other nightstand…
Wait.
An oblong object on the bench drew my attention. Something wrapped in a piece of cloth. I grabbed it and began peeling back the layers. Course silks with golden thread, the wrappings of a treasure.
My hands shook as I cradled the object, feeling its weight.
The thin evil shape.
Even as I turned back the last gossamer layer, I knew what I held.
The ivory handle. The lethal blade
The knife used to kill Kimberly Cho.
Quickly, I thumbed through the photos in my phone, confirming what I already knew. Jerry said he’d traced ownership as far as Irv Gittings, which was good enough for me.
It was his. He’d killed someone with it. How did he still have it?
Macau, where a life could be measured in money. I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now I held the proof. And I knew I wasn’t prepared to live in a world this cruel.
“Find what you were looking for?”
The male voice held all the pain and anger I felt. My blood pressure spiked so high I thought blood would spurt out my ears. My hand sought the handle of the knife as I whirled around.
Frank Cho. Not who I’d expected.
“I’m glad to see you,” I blathered.
He lifted his chin toward the knife I now held by the handle, the business end pointing toward him. “You better be ready to use that.”
I dropped my hand. “I don’t want to kill anybody.” Self-preservation bolted through me. “Don’t think I can’t.”
“I have no doubt.” Frank seemed not to care one way or the other.
“I’m sorry about Kim.”
He tried to shrug it off, but the shine in his eyes gave him away. “Then why are you holding the knife that killed her?”
“Knives don’t kill, humans do.” God, I sounded like one of those NRA commercials back home. True, but irritating in a condescending sort of way. I carefully refolded it in the silk. “I’m not the killer who wielded this blade, but I bet you know that.”
“How do think? You’re holding the murder weapon. You could’ve come here looking for it. Cover your trail.”
“True, but then why are you here?”
“I could’ve followed you.”
“But you didn’t.” I saw Miss P lurking behind him with a large bronze in her hands, preparing to swing it. “Don’t!” I barked.
Frank whirled. Miss P froze. Then they both looked at me with disbelieving looks.
I extended the knife to Frank. “Here. If you really believe I killed Kim, then have at it. I deserve whatever I get from you.”
He snatched the knife out of my hands, then backed up so that he had both Miss P and me in front of him. A tear leaked down his cheek. He swiped at it with the back of his hand. “He killed Kim. My father, he didn’t stop him.”
“That’s how this business is played; you know that. Everyone is expendable, especially if they switch sides. You were going to help Kim, weren’t you? I knew I wasn’t wrong about you.”
“She was right. For Macau to grow, to be like Vegas, we must be, as you say, legitimate.”
One good gut-call. I relaxed just a little, fairly sure Frank wasn’t going to perforate me. “My Security guy tied the ownership of that knife to Irv Gittings. He also placed Gittings in the Tigris at the time of Kim’s murder through the surveillance tapes I uploaded to him. That’s all I got.”
“That’s enough.” His anger seemed to solidify into something different, something even more deadly. “How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Stay within yourself like you do.”
I thought I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t sure. “Draw your lines where you see fit and live on the right side of those lines.”
He lifted the knife. “What would you do?”
“This isn’t about me.” I knew in my soul if anyone took someone I loved, I’d cut his heart out without thinking about it. “But we really do need to get out of here. Gittings is minutes away.”
My phone dinged. In the elevator.
“Shit. We’ve got to run.” Pushing and herding, I got both Miss P and Frank moving. “Back door? Service entrance?”
Frank turned to the left, heading through the dining room. “This way.”
He’d been here before.
Behind us, the electronic lock on the front door slid open. The handle turned.
That galvanized us to a run. Trying for quiet, but in need of speed, we pushed through the back entrance.
Frank pressed the button for the service elevator. I grabbed his elbow and shepherded him through the door to the stairs. Then I corralled Miss P through in front of me.
“But it’s like thirty floors,” Miss P hissed.
Frank slowed. “I should go back. Kill him.”
“Move. Keep going. He’ll just shoot you. He knows we were there; he’ll have a gun. And you have a knife. You’ll never get close.” I wanted to give him the whole revenge-is-best-served-cold lecture, but now was not the time.
Frank yielded to logic, surprising the hell out of me.
The three of us—Miss P in the front, Frank in the middle, me shielding from behind—raced down as fast as we could.
We didn’t say anymore, just kept going round and round, descending like Orpheus into Hell.
Every few floors, I’d pause and listen for someone following, but I didn’t hear anyone. I didn’t like it.
At the bottom, Miss P reached to pound the bar and open the door. Reaching around Frank, I pulled her back. “Hold on. Something’s not right.”
Two sets of eyes turned to stare at me. “Nobody followed.”
Frank nodded as the bloodlust left his eyes and cool calculation returned. “They took the elevator down.”
The three of us looked at the door, imagining the evil on the other side. As if we’d summoned him, someone r
attled the door.
Locked. The door could be opened only from the inside. Part of the security—hotels didn’t want just anyone getting up to the upper floors. You had to have a valid room key and pass it in front of a reader in the elevator. But, legit or not, you couldn’t open the stair door.
I tapped the other two to get their attention. When I had it, I pointed up.
“There’s a fire escape on the other side of the building,” Frank whispered.
Listening, looking, I led them up a few floors. Irv had a one-in-thirty chance of guessing which floor we chose, odds I could live with. I tried to second-guess myself—what would Irv think I would do?
I chose the seventh floor. Easing the door open just wide enough to get my head through and sneak a look, I could feel Frank and Miss P breathing down my neck, literally. The hall curved slightly to the left—I could see maybe halfway down, but the rest was around the bend.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open wider and stepped through, keeping the others shielded behind. Sticking close to the wall, I eased down the hall, heading toward the far side of the building. One step at a time, the fire escape seemed light-years away. My heart pounded in my ears. The worst part about this whole thing was we had to pass the elevators to get to the other side.
About halfway there, the elevator dinged its arrival.
Like mice in the kitchen when the light is turned on, we each scurried to safety in the doorways on either side. Miss P and Frank chose the right side; I chose the left…of course.
Pressed back as far as we could go, we blinked at each other and didn’t breathe.
Voices. One male, one female. Friendly chattering in a language I didn’t understand faded as the couple moved away. I sagged as stars swam in front of my eyes, then remembered to suck in a lungful of air. I sneaked a look. The hall was empty. Too afraid to speak, I motioned for my cohorts to follow as I stepped into the hallway.
The first shot winged my left arm. I didn’t wait to see who was behind the trigger—I knew. Turning, I bolted after Miss P and Frank, who were one step ahead.
One floor in thirty and we had to end up on the same one.
Using the curve of the hallway, we ran just fast enough to keep Irv from getting a straight shot at us. That didn’t keep him from firing. Shots thumped into the walls. A beautiful blown glass vase exploded. A light fixture was next.
Lucky the Hard Way Page 27
