by Robin Cook
“This tension is driving me crazy,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I can take too much more of it.”
“Which is another reason to go on the junk,” Tristan said. “As soon as we find out what this is all about, the better. Then we can get out of this place and let them give it back to China.”
The elevator arrived on the sixth floor and they stepped out. They walked slowly to their doors, weighing the pros and cons of going with the Tanka captain.
“Where’s the hall porter?” Marissa asked as they neared their doors. She’d grown accustomed to the man’s miraculous appearance every time they arrived on the floor.
“That is strange,” Tristan said. He looked up and down the hall for signs of the man. Then he spotted the sign hanging from the knob of his door. “What the hell? Why is there a Do Not Disturb sign on my door?”
“Something’s wrong,” she said.
Tristan backed away from his door. “You’re right,” he said. Turning, he walked back toward the elevator. Marissa followed him, looking nervously over her shoulder.
They went inside the hall porter’s empty cubicle. In the corner they saw a hot plate with a teakettle on it. The kettle was red hot, the water having long since boiled away.
“Something is definitely wrong,” Tristan said. Going back to the elevator, he picked up the house phone and asked for security. Two minutes later the elevator opened and two security men stepped out. One was a muscular Chinese, the other a beefy Englishman.
The security men remembered Marissa and Tristan from the episode in the lobby the day before. With Marissa and Tristan standing to the side, they used their passkey to open Tristan’s door.
The room was quiet except for the sound of water running in the bathtub. The connecting door to room 604 was ajar. The bed was stripped. A maid’s cleaning cart was pushed to the side.
The Chinese man entered first, then the Englishman. Marissa and Tristan remained on the threshold. The Chinese security man headed for the bathroom while his partner glanced into 604.
“George!” the Chinese man called urgently. George quickly joined his partner at the bathroom door. Both their faces blanched. Then the Englishman turned to Marissa and Tristan, motioning for them to stay where they were. He explained that there had been a death.
Clearly shaken, the two security men left the bathroom and went into 604. Marissa and Tristan exchanged an uneasy glance.
“My God!” the Englishman said.
In a moment, both security men appeared back in 606. The Englishman went to the phone at the desk. After covering the handle of the receiver with a cloth, he called the manager and told him that there had been two murders: a cleaning woman and apparently a hotel guest.
Meanwhile, the Chinese security man approached Marissa and Tristan. “I’m afraid we have two bodies in here,” he said. “Please, do not touch anything. We don’t recognize the man in the other room.” Addressing Tristan he said, “Perhaps, sir, you might have a look and see if it is someone you know.”
Tristan started forward, but Marissa stopped him by pulling at his arm. “I’m a doctor,” she said to the security man. “I think I should look as well.”
The security man shrugged. “As you like, madam.”
With the security man in the lead, Marissa and Tristan walked into 604.
When Marissa looked down at the body, she gave out a little cry. Her hand went to her mouth in horror. The victim was lying on his back, staring open-eyed at the ceiling. There were two holes in his forehead. On the carpet behind his head was a pool of blood in the form of a dark halo.
“It’s Robert!” Marissa gasped. “It’s my husband—Robert!”
Tristan took Marissa in his arms and pulled her away from the grisly sight.
Then they heard a knocking from the closet.
The Chinese security man called to the Englishman. He bounded into the room. The Chinese man pointed at the closet. They heard the knocking again. Both men went to the door; the key was in the lock. With one standing to the side, the other unlocked the door and yanked it open. Inside they discovered the cowering hall porter.
After some encouragement, the security men managed to coax the porter out into the room. Once he understood that he was safe, he began speaking rapidly in Chinese.
When the porter finally fell silent, the Chinese security guard turned to the other. “He says the killer threatened him with a gun and made him open the door. He says the killer was a gweilo.”
“Ask him to describe the killer,” the Englishman said. “And ask whether he’d seen him before.”
The Chinese security guard again addressed the hall porter. The porter responded with another long harangue. When he was done, the Chinese security guard turned to the others. “He says that he’d never seen him before, and he can’t describe him because all gweilos look the same to him!”
The hotel manager arrived at the door to 606 and called out. Together, all five of them went through the connecting door and out into the hall.
Marissa was in shock. Tristan stayed by her side, keeping his arms around her. She hadn’t said a word from the moment she’d recognized the dead man as Robert. She had no tears. At the moment, all she felt was a severe chill, as if the air conditioning had been turned up too high.
“The police are on their way,” the manager said nervously. He was an Italian with a heavy accent. “Where are the bodies?”
The Chinese security man motioned for the manager to follow him and they made a brief tour. When the manager returned, he had trouble speaking.
“The hotel apologizes for this inconvenience,” he said to Marissa and Tristan. “Especially after the trouble you had only yesterday.”
The Englishman leaned over and whispered in the manager’s ear. The manager’s eyes widened as he listened. He swallowed hard before speaking again.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, speaking directly to Marissa. “I didn’t know that you knew the victim. My heartfelt condolences.” Then to both Marissa and Tristan he said: “When I spoke to the police a few moments ago, they told me that you are not to be allowed into your rooms. You are not to touch anything. For your comfort, I’ve taken the liberty of preparing our Marco Polo for the interim. We will provide whatever you need in the way of toiletries and such.”
Fifteen minutes later Marissa and Tristan were escorted to the lavish suite. Marissa sank into an armchair, feeling drained and immobile.
“I can’t believe any of this,” she finally said, speaking for the first time since seeing Robert’s body. “It’s all too fantastic. Why did he come? It’s the last thing I’d expected. Especially after our last phone conversation.”
“What happened?” Tristan asked, hoping to get her to speak. He pulled a chair close by her. He reached out and gripped her hand.
Marissa spilled her heart out. Although she’d never made reference to Tristan about her difficulties with Robert, she now admitted that her marriage had seriously deteriorated, especially over the last few months. She told him that Robert had refused to come to Australia after Wendy died. All he wanted her to do was come home. For Robert to come to Hong Kong suddenly was entirely out of character. She buried her face in her hands. “He wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for me.”
Tristan shook his head. “Marissa,” he said. It was hard for him to say what was on his mind, but he knew he had to be direct. “You can’t blame yourself for this tragedy. You’ll be tempted to, but you mustn’t. You’re not to blame.”
“But I feel so guilty,” Marissa said. “After Wendy, now Robert! If it weren’t for me they would be alive today.”
“And if it weren’t for me, my wife would be alive today,” Tristan said. “I know how you feel. I’ve been there. But you didn’t make Robert come here. He came of his own accord. You didn’t even know he would be here.”
“Robert is such a good man. It’s too awful. Maybe it wasn’t him,” she said suddenly. “Maybe I was wrong.”
Tristan eyed Mar
issa warily. He remembered how strongly he had wished news of his wife’s death away. Denial was powerful in the face of such horrendous shocks.
“Call the manager,” Marissa said suddenly. “We have to make sure it was Robert.”
“You sure you want me to do that?” Tristan asked.
“Yes,” Marissa said, tears welling in her eyes.
Tristan went to the phone by the desk. It took him a few minutes to get the manager on the line. After a brief conversation, he returned to his chair.
“The name in the wallet and on the passport was Robert Buchanan,” Tristan said softly.
Marissa stared at Tristan with unseeing eyes. For a few moments, she didn’t say anything.
“I can still see him clearly,” she said at last. Her voice was flat and lifeless. “I can see him at his computer. Whenever he worked he always had the same expression.”
“I know,” Tristan murmured. Watching Marissa brought back memories of his own. He knew what she was going through.
“What time is it now on the East Coast of the United States?” Marissa asked.
Tristan studied his watch. “Between three and four A.M., I believe,” he said.
“I have to make some calls,” Marissa said. She stood up and walked into the bedroom to use the phone by the bed.
Tristan let her go. He didn’t know what to do. He was concerned about Marissa’s mental state. Robert’s murder had to be a horrendous blow. He would have to keep a close eye on her. More than anything, he would try to get her to express her grief.
Marissa first called her parents in Virginia. Her mother offered for them to come to Hong Kong immediately, but Marissa told her not to. She would come home as soon as the authorities allowed.
Hanging up, Marissa tried to gather her courage for an even more difficult phone call. She knew she had to call her mother-in-law, and she knew how much the news would devastate her. Marissa wouldn’t blame her if she held her responsible for Robert’s death. But to her surprise, Mrs. Buchanan had no words of criticism for her. After an awful silence, she simply informed Marissa that she would come to Hong Kong immediately. Marissa didn’t try to talk her out of it. By the time she hung up the phone, Tristan was in the doorway.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but that bloody pom police inspector is here to talk with us and he wants to talk to you first.”
The police inspector stayed for almost an hour, taking statements from both Marissa and Tristan. He told them that there would be a thorough investigation and that they would not have access to their belongings until it was completed. He apologized profusely for any inconvenience. He also informed them that there would be an autopsy on both victims and a formal inquest, and that they were not to leave the colony until the formalities were completed.
After the police inspector left, Marissa and Tristan sat alone. Tristan took the opportunity to try to get her to talk about her feelings.
“I just feel numb,” Marissa said. “I have trouble believing it has really happened.”
“Maybe we should do something,” Tristan said. “Instead of just sitting here.”
“I think it might help to get out of this hotel,” Marissa said.
“Good idea,” Tristan said, glad to hear Marissa make any kind of suggestion. “We’ll move to another hotel.” He got to his feet, wondering which one to choose. Only then did he remember Captain Fa-Huang. “I have a better idea,” he said. “What about going on the junk? We need to do something. We need something to occupy our minds.”
“I’d forgotten about the junk trip,” Marissa said. “I don’t think I’m up to it. Not now.”
“Marissa!” Tristan said. “Too much has happened for us not to follow the trail to its conclusion.” He stepped over to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Let’s do it! Let’s get even with these bastards.”
Marissa’s head was spinning. She couldn’t even look at Tristan. Sometimes she thought he was crazy.
“Come on, Marissa!” Tristan urged. “Let’s not let them get away with this.”
Finally she looked up at him. She could feel his determination. She didn’t have the strength to argue or even resist. “All right,” she said. “At this moment I feel as if I have nothing to lose.”
“Good show!” Tristan cried. He gave her a forceful hug, then leaped to his feet. He looked at his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time!” Rushing over to the phone, he called room service and ordered a number of boxed lunches as well as bottled water.
As soon as their order came, Marissa and Tristan descended to the lobby and exited through the service entrance as they had that morning. Bentley had moved the Mercedes to the alley. He was reading a newspaper while he waited. Tristan opened the rear door for Marissa, then ran around and jumped in the other side.
“Aberdeen!” Tristan told Bentley. “We’re going smuggling.”
They drove out of the alley and over to East Tsim Sha Tsui, then into the Cross Harbor Tunnel. Almost immediately they slowed to a crawl in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
Tristan eyed his watch nervously in the dim tunnel light. “Damn!” he said. “It’s going to be close if Captain Fa-Huang weighs anchor at six sharp.”
Marissa closed her eyes. She felt numb, as if nothing that was happening were real.
The enforcer looked over his desk at the hit man. The tension between them was natural for two experts in the same small field. They each knew that the other did similar things, just in different worlds. Mr. Yip thought that Ned was a crude barbarian. Ned thought Mr. Yip was a hoon poofter in a white suit.
They were sitting in the same office where Mr. Yip had Marissa and Tristan brought on their first meeting. Willy was outside with some of Mr. Yip’s men.
“I trust that Mr. Pang rang you,” Ned said.
“He did indeed,” Mr. Yip said. “But he only said that we were to do business. He said that it involved dealing with a couple, for which you were to pay the Wing Sin one hundred and fifty thousand Hong Kong dollars. He did not provide further details.”
“It is a man and a woman,” Ned said. “One Australian, the other American. Late thirties for the man, early thirties for the woman. Their names are Tristan Williams and Marissa Blumenthal. They’re staying at the Peninsula Hotel, but that may soon change.”
Mr. Yip smiled to himself, realizing immediately that the Wing Sin was about to profit from both sides of a conflict. “This is a coincidence,” he said. “I’m sure that the couple that you are describing have been here to see me in this very office.”
“For what reason?” Ned asked.
“They paid me for information,” Mr. Yip said. “They were interested in the people we have been smuggling out of the PRC for Fertility, Limited.”
Ned shifted nervously in his seat. “And what were they told?”
“Very little, I can assure you,” Mr. Yip said. “The Wing Sin has never bothered to interfere in Fertility, Limited, business. So,” continued Mr. Yip, “how much is in this for me?”
Accustomed to doing business in Hong Kong and with the Wing Sin in particular, Ned was not surprised by this direct request for squeeze. “The usual ten percent,” he said.
“The usual is fifteen,” Mr. Yip said with a smile.
“Done,” Ned said.
“It is a delight to do business with someone accustomed to our ways,” Mr. Yip said. “And we are in luck. The couple in question is scheduled to leave this afternoon on a Tanka junk to make one of the Fertility, Limited, pickups. That will make the deed extremely easy and efficient. The bodies can be dropped into the sea. Very neat.”
Ned pulled his sleeve back to look at his watch. “What time are they leaving?” he asked.
“Around six,” Mr. Yip said. He got up from his chair. “I think we’d better leave immediately.”
A few minutes later they found themselves stuck in traffic.
“Isn’t there a faster way?” Ned asked with frustration.
“You must relax,” Mr. Yip said. “Conside
r the job done.”
Even the Aberdeen Tunnel was crowded at that time of day. As they got out of the tunnel, the south shore proved equally congested. It was stop-and-go traffic all the way to Aberdeen.
Tristan was frantic. He could hardly sit still, looking at his watch every few minutes. In contrast, Marissa sat immobile, staring blankly ahead. Her mind was in a turmoil as her emotional numbness was beginning to wear thin. She was thinking of Robert and the better times they’d had. Not only did she feel responsible for his death, to a large degree she felt responsible for the rough months before it. Tears began to well in her eyes. She averted her head to keep Tristan from seeing. Except for a powerful apathy that overwhelmed her, she would have asked if they could turn around.
On top of her emotional pain, Marissa also began to fear going out on the open sea, worrying that she might get seasick to add to her problems. During the ride out to the junk in the motorized sampan, Marissa again considered demanding they go back. The sound of the water and the thought of the ocean not only made her queasy but also brought back the memory of Wendy’s death with stark vividness.
“Good show!” Tristan exclaimed as they rounded the row of junks and saw that Captain Fa-Huang had not yet departed. The sampan pulled alongside the receiving port.
Marissa saw that the captain had company. A couple of fierce-looking Chinese men were standing at the railing on the poop deck, watching their arrival with interest.
Grabbing Tristan’s arm, Marissa pointed. “Who are those men?” she asked. “They look like bandits.”
“Dunno,” Tristan said. “Must be the crew.”
Bentley scrambled up into the opening, then turned to lend a hand. Tristan handed up the boxed lunches and the bottled water.
“Okay, luv,” Tristan said taking Marissa’s arm.
With a boost from Tristan and a pull from Bentley, Marissa found herself aboard the junk.
Once on the boat, they went forward and climbed the ladder to the main deck. The captain bellowed a greeting and introduced them to Liu and Maa, the two deckhands. Everyone bowed. Then the captain yelled a command and the men fell back to work.
