“And this deal was supposed to set you up for the rest of your lives.”
She giggled. “Yeah, something like that.”
She turned away from him, and took another long sip of her wine. When Don saw her fist clenched under the table, he knew she was crying. He thought about putting an arm out to her, but guessed that it wasn’t what she needed. Hell, her husband was less than two weeks dead. What did he know about what she needed?
36
Back at his apartment he showered and shaved, then made himself some breakfast and sat in front of the TV. Finally, he turned his phone back on, wasn’t surprised to see missed calls from Jeannie, Andy and Mickey, his boss. Text messages, too, from Jeannie.
Where the fuck are you?
What happened at the club? Answer your goddamn phone
Are you ok? Pls call me.
He turned it off again. He really couldn’t be dealing with her today. He lay back on his couch, turned down the sound on the TV, daydreamed about four million bucks. Would he stay in Hong Kong? Or head back to London? That was tricky. It would be nice to head home with money in his pocket. He might have to if the deal got messy.
But the money would probably last longer in Hong Kong. In London he’d use a huge chunk just finding somewhere half-decent to live. In Hong Kong at least he had options. He wouldn’t want to live up on the hill anyway, over on the Island. He’d simply find a nice apartment somewhere in Kowloon City. How the hell would he get that much cash out of Hong Kong? He couldn’t exactly take it in a briefcase on the plane.
Come to that, why were they using cash? Surely electronic transfer was easier. But then banks would start asking questions. His bank would have a few questions if that much money suddenly appeared in his account. He didn’t really have much to go home for anyway. Friends were scattered. Maybe he’d be home for Christmas, over his sister’s place. That’d be the first time in, what was it now, five years?
So Hong Kong was a better bet. And then he could open up the boxing gym, as he’d meant to when he first came here. He had enough friends around, knew enough about boxing, the local scene. Maybe he would still take a small bank loan for the property, but only if he wanted to buy, not rent. And he didn’t want to sink all his money in, in case it went tits up. Renting was better, then renovations and equipment would be a tiny cost, compared to how much he’d have in his pocket to throw around. New car? Nothing too flash. A Beamer would do him nice.
And Jeannie? That was a real question. He could do all sorts for her, but did he want to? That much cash opened things up, as far as women were concerned. He’d have to sit on that one and think about it for a while. With a bit of cash behind her, she wouldn’t have to work so hard, she could buy a few nice dresses. She was a good sort, but… he had doubts in his mind. He’d never really thought about her in the long term. He hadn’t thought about anything much in the long term, not for the last few years.
When he woke again it was early afternoon. He rinsed his face in the bathroom, put some coffee on to brew. When he came back into the living room he turned his phone on again. It rang almost immediately. Jeannie.
He sighed. Well, he had to speak to her sooner or later.
“Hi babe.”
“You bastard. Where the fuck have you been?”
Where had he been? He could hardly tell her. “Busy.”
“What do you mean busy? Andy said you walked out on the club, and Mickey’s been trying to ring you.”
Shit. He’d have to call Mickey, smooth things over. Try and explain. “I got a new job.”
“And you didn’t think to tell anyone? Where have you been?”
“Listen, babe. It’s alright. Everything’s gonna be just fine in a couple of weeks. I just gotta do this job, first.”
He could hear her on the other end, trying to decide whether to ask more questions or sling more insults. In the end she must have decided she couldn’t be bothered with either, because then the phone slammed down in his ear. She was really pissed this time. He tried Mickey’s number. No answer. He tried Andy next. The least he could do was apologize for leaving him at the club. And if he did want to get his hands on a gun, Andy was probably his best bet.
“This is the voicemail of five six five three, two…” Don hung up. Never mind, there would be time for that later. He turned his phone off again and started scraping some change together for dinner.
It didn’t amount to much. Still, it was enough to feed him through the week, just about.
37
He found her in the garden. She had moved the iron table out of the shadow of the house and sat there in the red silk dressing gown. Walking back into the afternoon sunlight, he noticed the glass on the table. He picked it up and sniffed: vodka. And not the first one judging by the red in her cheeks.
“You came back then.” She was wearing large dark sunglasses, and he couldn’t tell if she’d even looked at him.
“Yeah, of course I did.”
“Help yourself to a drink.” An arm waved loosely in the direction of the kitchen.
“I will.” But that wasn’t it. He’d been thinking about her all night and all morning. He knew what he wanted. He walked out onto the lawn. From the middle you could just about see the road, near the spot from where he’d taken pictures through the railing. Further across the hill was a tall tower block, but it was far off. The firs and the house blocked most of the garden from view. Privacy came at a premium in Hong Kong. The further you wanted to be from people, the more you had to pay. This would have set them back a pretty penny. Don couldn’t even guess how much. He looked back at her, sat in the sun on the metal garden chair. She hadn’t moved. Don said, “We need to talk about the job.”
“Do we have to do it now?”
“No time like the present.”
“There are always more times like the present. Millions of them. The present just rolls on, and on, and on.”
Maybe he needed a drink after all. Just to be on her level. “There’s more details I need. Questions.”
Finally she stood, and the red dressing gown swirled around her thighs as she strode barefoot toward him. She held up her empty glass. “You ask too many questions. Why don’t you fix me a drink?”
He smacked the glass from her hand, and it smashed in to the lawn five feet away. “You’ve had too many. We’ve got things to talk about.”
“I’ll fix the drinks then.” She turned away from him, to the house. Don grabbed her shoulders and spun her around again, pulled her in close.
“I told you I don’t want a drink.” She stood there blankly, unmoving, arms by her side, the dark glasses pointed up at him. Her hand came up to remove them and they dropped onto the lawn. The tie around her waist was next. The dressing gown fell to the grass as she shrugged it off.
She stood naked in the sunlight, her glazed eyes meeting his. She was completely pissed. “Don’t worry, I know what you want. When you’re finished I’ll have a vodka tonic.”
He pushed past her roughly and stomped into the house, meaning to leave but pausing in the living room, unsure of what he was doing here and what to do if he left. A moment later she padded past him, glancing back over a bare shoulder to see if he would follow her upstairs.
38
She’d sobered up a lot. A pot of Earl Grey helped. Now she was wearing a different bathrobe, slate grey. Her nipples jabbed at the fine silk. Don was wearing a thick towelling robe that had belonged to her husband. It was supposed to be loose, but barely fit across his shoulders.
They smoked from her packet, looking up to the horseman on the wall in front of them. For the home of an antique dealer the place was devoid of anything old, except the paintings. If they were real. Perhaps Mr Fong had liked the idea of the business more than the actual artefacts. He’d certainly made money from it, though. Seemingly not quite enough. Some people got too greedy, couldn’t help themselves, made mistakes. One such mistake cost Alexander Fong his life.
“What else do you want
to know?” she said.
Without make up, her skin was more delicate. Her lips weren’t as full, her eyes not as big, but her skin was soft, a few tiny freckles gathered each side of her nose. Her hair was up in a white towel, leaving the curve of her neck exposed. He’d left a small bite mark there, on the side.
“Tell me everything you know about the tablets.”
She sighed, sipped her tea. “There are three of them. They’re from Assyria, ancient Iraq. About three thousand years old.”
“You said they’re made of gold.”
“Solid gold. They tell the story of some king or other. I’m not too sure about the details.”
“How big are they?”
“Small, about ten centimetres long, four or five centimetres wide.”
“How heavy?”
“They won’t weigh much. They’re paper thin.”
“Packaging?”
“I haven’t got the faintest idea.” Her accent slipped a little, the more seriously she took a subject. He’d noticed that. When she relaxed or joked around she sounded more American. Now she was very serious and the Californian accent was fading away, the Anglo-Chinese coming to the fore.
“What about the Americans? The sellers?”
“Three of them. I suspect they’re military, but I’m not sure. Or ex-military.”
“Are they the ones who stole the tablets?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any way to contact them?” He’d tried the phone, but it had no numbers or anything else stored in its memory.
She shook her head. He watched her nipples swaying slightly through the thin material. “I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve no idea how they contacted my husband before, only what he told me about it. They arrive from Jakarta on Saturday. They’ll ring that number when they do, tell us where the meeting is to be held, and at what time.”
“And the buyer. Who is it?”
“I don’t know anything about him. Alex didn’t say a word, only that he’s in America. I don’t think Alex knew who the buyer is. I only know that his representative will be in contact.” She nodded toward the mobile.
“Does anybody else have that number?”
She shook her head again. Again, the sway of her breasts. “That phone number’s only for this deal.”
He finished his tea and spread his arms back into the huge sofa. Was that it? Was there anything else he needed to know? There weren’t a lot of details. No time, no place, just waiting for calls. The tablets wouldn’t be too heavy, and they’d be easy to hide. He ran his finger over her ear, and down the smooth skin of her neck. She shivered a little, so delicate. She leaned forward, a hand on his chest, her breath on his cheek, a gentle kiss brushing his lips. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered. “Will you stay here tonight?”
Don returned her kiss, and ran a couple of fingers down the length of her back. She shivered again. He pushed her away with another kiss, and reached for her cigarettes from the table. He couldn’t really think of a good reason why not.
39
Pulling into the underground parking lot he checked for any sign of the Brothers or their car. Couldn’t be too careful. Soon he was sharing the lift with a businessman in a suit, a schoolgirl in her white-socked uniform. Suddenly everything seemed so normal, so mundane, as he walked back into the old life, the one before the widow came calling. Until he stepped out on the sixteenth floor and found his apartment door open.
Alert now, he listened carefully. The lights were off, and the inside was silent. He inspected the door. The lock had been busted, as if someone had charged it from outside. The Brothers Wang? There was no sign of anyone now, so he pushed the door softly and it creaked open. Stepping inside, ready for any attack from the shadows, he walked quickly through to the bedroom door. It was closed. He flicked on the living room light. Nobody there, but somebody had been messing with his things.
The TV sat on its unit, but various drawers had been flung open, things knocked off shelves. Checking the rest of the apartment he found himself alone. The only items missing were Jeannie’s clothes and other bits and pieces she had left at his place.
That stupid bitch. What did she have to go and do that for? If she wanted her stuff there was no need to go breaking the door open. He checked the rooms carefully, but it must have been her. She hadn’t taken anything else as far as he could tell. Even her razor from the bathroom was gone. Very thorough. Well, if that was how she wanted it, fine. He certainly didn’t need her anymore.
He wondered who she had got to help. It would take a pretty big bastard to open the door like that. They must have used their shoulder. Not that the door was so strong. Don could’ve done it himself, but not every man could have. Jeannie had plenty of friends, though. She’d been around, that girl. Who knew how many old flames she had scattered through the city, waiting on her call, ever willing to do her a favour if it meant taking her away from some other dumb guy, maybe getting something in return. Don didn’t need a washed up old whore like her. He was moving up, out of her stinking, drunken world. He could afford to leave Jeannie behind without a second thought.
He picked out his sports bag and started throwing in a few clothes. There wasn’t much of Fong’s that was gonna fit him, beyond the bathrobes, so he stuffed in every clean shirt he owned. A couple of t-shirts, a pair of shorts, his bag gloves and some wraps, a rope, his running shoes. He could use Fong’s equipment and do some training while he waited for Saturday to arrive.
It wouldn’t count for much, but it was better than nothing. He might be glad of it when the time came.
His toothbrush, an old pair of sunglasses, old address book with a few photos tucked in the back which were too big for his wallet. There was one of his parents, one of his sister and her family at Christmas, in front of the tree. Another had Don grinning in the middle of a bunch of London guys, his leaving party before he came out here. He didn’t really know a couple of the people in it, and there were a few good friends missing, but that was how it went with leaving parties. You don’t get a second chance.
The last one was of him in a bar, with a couple of blokes the day before they shipped to Afghanistan. They were both back in England right now, though not for long. Another friend of theirs had come back minus half an arm, just two months after this picture was taken. Poor bastard in the wrong place at the wrong time. What could you do?
Did he need anything else?
No, fuck it. There wasn’t anything here he couldn’t just walk away from. New money, new start. That was the way to do it. He could stay up the house for a while, with the widow, and see where that went. It would give him time to find a new apartment anyway. Or with the money he could pick any hotel in the city. Except Jeannie’s. He slung the bag over his back and picked up his other suit.
Pulling the broken front door to on his way out he was glad to be leaving that rubbish, that old life. He took the bag down and threw it in the back of the Corolla. This car would be going soon, as well. Shame the Merc had been taken away, he wouldn’t have minded borrowing that for a few days.
Still, another couple of weeks and he’d be buying his own.
40
“I wasn’t sure how you liked your steak?”
“Medium, thanks babe.” He gave her a kiss and she turned back to her work. She’d put some clothes on by now, a loose, casual mini-dress in terracotta with thin black trim, that stopped well above the knee. She sure knew how to dress. He poured the wine and wondered how much her wardrobe cost, admiring her legs from behind.
“Any problems?”
The steaks were sizzling in the pan, filling the room with their smell. She turned back to him. He noticed that she hadn’t bothered to put a bra on. Then he remembered his flat.
“Uh, yeah. Someone broke into my place.”
Now she was concerned. “Oh my God. Are you okay? Did they take anything?”
He paused, unsure what to tell her about Jeannie. “I’m fine. They took a few things. It doesn’
t matter.”
“Do you think it was… because of, you know…” Was it connected to the job? Was it connected to her?
“No. Just some kids, I expect. They took a few things, that’s all. Easy to carry stuff.”
She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “My poor baby. Don’t worry, we’ll replace everything soon.”
His eyes followed her legs and curves as she walked back to the stove. Yeah, some things had already been replaced, thank you very much.
After dinner they sat out in the cool of the garden. She looked up to the stars while Don puffed out great clouds of blue smoke from one of Fong’s cigars. Don idled over some memories of Jeannie. There had been a few good times. Tokyo for a start. And at CUBAR, the bar near her apartment where they used to be regulars. Her body had been in better shape back then. More flexible, she had stretched just about everything to the limit in those days. That was why she looked so much older now, he supposed. Burning both ends. Let herself go. He gazed over at Julia. How did she keep in shape? A rich husband, time on her hands. The odd nip and tuck, perhaps. She looked good for it. No, she looked stunning. World class.
She said, “Are you worried?”
He looked up to meet her gaze, and realised she had been watching him as his eyes wandered up and down her body.
“What about?”
“About Saturday. Are you nervous at all?”
Well, yeah. He tried not to think about it but there were any number of things that could fuck the whole deal. He didn’t know how these things were supposed to happen. Walk into a room, leave one bag and take another? Who were these Americans, anyway? Just a bunch of guys who got lucky one time? Or did they do this sort of thing a lot?
“Hell no. Of course not. It’ll be easy, babe. You’ll see. No problem.”
All Blood is Red Page 9
