Robin Cook 1990 - Vital Signs

by Vital Signs(lit)

"I'm not in much of a festive mood," she said.

  "Come on now, Marissa," Tristan said, stretching out on the bed. He tossed his hat like a saucer into an easy chair.

  "You have to lighten up a touch. You should enjoy yourself as well. There's no harm in it."

  With Wendy's horrid death still on her mind, Marissa hardly felt she should be expected to enjoy herself.

  "I want to get down to business," she said.

  "How are we going to contact the Wing Sin Triad? What's our first step?"

  There was a soft knock on the door before Tristan could reply.

  He leaped from the bed and threw the door wide open. A waiter with white gloves bowed and entered. He was carrying a tray with a champagne cooler and two long-stemmed glasses.

  "Now this is service," Tristan said with admiration.

  "That's the fastest response time I've ever seen." He pointed to the desk.

  "Right here, mate, if you would."

  The waiter silently put down the tray, then backed out of the room with a bow.

  Tristan had the wire cage off in the blink of an eye, then popped the cork. To his delight it caromed off the ceiling. He filled the glasses and carried them over to Marissa, handing her one.

  Reluctantly Marissa took the glass he offered her.

  Tristan raised his glass up to eye level.

  "To our Hong Kong sleuthing," he said.

  Marissa clinked his glass with hers. They both drank.

  "Now that's what I call bubbly," Tristan said. Then, turning to the window, he pointed out.

  "You haven't said anything about the view. What do you think?"

  "It's astonishingly beautiful," Marissa said, eyeing the mountains of Hong Kong Island. White villas dotted the dark green foliage. Below, at the water's edge and beginning to creep up the hills, were the modern high-rises, opulent testimony to Hong Kong's power as a major economic center.

  "It's more beautiful than I thought it would be," Tristan said.

  Marissa agreed. She hadn't imagined it would be so modern.

  But then Tristan's comment sank in. Turning to him she asked, "Haven't you been here before?"

  "First time," Tristan said, still enjoying the view.

  "But the way you talked about it," Marissa said, "I was sure you'd been here."

  "A lot of my friends have been here," Tristan said.

  "But not me. I've heard a lot about the place and have always wanted to come. Just never had the chance."

  Looking back over at Hong Kong Island, Marissa felt a twinge of disappointment. She had counted on Tristan's knowledge of Hong Kong to speed their inquiries.

  "So anyway," Marissa said, "back to my question. What's our first step in contacting the Wing Sin Triad?"

  "I don't know," Tristan said.

  "Let's try to come up with some suggestions."

  "Wait a minute," Marissa said, putting her glass down.

  "You're telling me you don't have any plan for contacting this Wing Sin Triad?"

  "Not yet," Tristan admitted.

  "But it's a big organization. I don't think we will have any trouble making contact."

  "Oh, give me a break!" Marissa said.

  "This is a fine time to let me know you've never been here before and that you don't have any ideas about contacting these triad people. What are we going to do, go out on the street and start asking passersbyl" "We'll do what we have to," Tristan said.

  Marissa stared at him in disbelief. She was beginning to wonder what kind of ally she'd come up with.

  "But first things first," Tristan said.

  "Let's go to dinner. I'll call downstairs and get a proper suggestion for an authentic Chinese restaurant from the concierge."

  "You do that!" Marissa said.

  She took a shower and changed her clothes. By the time she

  K was ready, she'd recovered her composure to a great degree, but she was still irritated with him. She felt deceived. At the same time she was thankful he'd come and that she wasn't on her own.

  For dinner the concierge sent them to a "typical" Chinese restaurant. It was a four-story affair with a colorful facade painted bright gold and crimson. There were myriad dining rooms within, each lit by extravagant crystal chandeliers. Like Hong Kong itself, the place was bustling.

  Both Marissa and Tristan were a bit unsettled by the apparent confusion. People were everywhere. Large tables of noisy diners dominated each room. Everybody seemed to be shouting. The scene reminded Marissa more of a stadium event than a restaurant.

  Despite the hour, crying babies could be heard in every direction. And over the tumult floated strident Chinese music coming from hidden speakers.

  Eventually Marissa and Tristan found a table. They were handed large menus bound in gold and crimson. Unfortunately for them the menus were written in Chinese characters with no translation. They tried to hail a waiter, but were roundly ignored.

  Finally one waiter approached. At first he pretended not to speak English. Then he seemed to change his mind. He spoke to them in English, but he was distracted and less than helpful in translating the menu. Despite these obstacles, Marissa and Tristan ordered dinner.

  "Do you have any idea what we'll be getting?" Marissa yelled over the din after the waiter disappeared.

  "I haven't the slightest," Tristan answered.

  The noise in the restaurant precluded normal conversation.

  Marissa and Tristan were content merely to observe.

  In short order, their dinner arrived. It included a sizzling wok filled with unidentifiable wriggly vegetables. There was a basket of dumplings, something from the sea in a dark, salty sauce, several bowls of rice, and some haunches of greasy bird. There was also a pot of green tea.

  Perhaps most surprising of all was that the food was delicious.

  Even if in the end they weren't quite sure what it was, they heartily enjoyed it.

  Leaving the boisterous restaurant, they stepped out into the street, whose traffic had scarcely lessened from rush hour time.

  They were on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong in the Tsim Sha Tsui section. Rather than hail a cab, they decided to walk back to the hotel.

  The city was ablaze with color and light. Huge neon signs stretched two stories high. Every shop was open, their windows filled with Panasonic radios, Sony Walkmans, cameras, VCRs, and TVs. Every third doorway was an entrance to an underground bar or nightclub. Music blared. Attractive, saucer-faced Chinese women in tight, Chinese-style dresses beckoned with coy smiles. In addition to the noise and visual panoply, Marissa was bombarded with an array of smells: a potent combination of food, cooking oil, incense, and diesel exhaust.

  Despite a press of people, Marissa and Tristan were able to talk as they walked, provided they stayed close enough.

  "I've got an idea about contacting the Wing Sin Triad," Tristan said as they waited for a traffic light.

  "Wonderful," Marissa said.

  "What is it?"

  "The concierge!" Tristan said.

  "Those blokes are supposed to know everything in the city. If he knows where to eat, he probably knows the triads." Tristan flashed a knowing smile.

  Marissa rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't a masterful suggestion.

  "I have an idea, but not about contacting the triads," Marissa said.

  "It might be helpful to visit one of the big hospitals in town.

  We can find out if TB is currently a problem here in the colony.

  We can even ask if they've seen any TB salpingitis."

  "Good thinking," Tristan said.

  Once they reached their hotel, Tristan insisted they go directly to the concierge's desk. While they waited to speak with him, Marissa began to have second thoughts about questioning the concierge about the triads- She thought it would be like going to New York and asking to get in touch with the Mafia. Excusing herself, she stopped by the front desk for their passports, then went across the lobby to wait in a sitting area.

  "C
an I help you?" the concierge asked Tristan in impeccable English.

  "I think so, mate," Tristan said. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening, then he bent forward.

  "I need some confidential information."

  The Chinese man leaned away from Tristan, eyeing him uneasily. sai'd' I want to talk to somebody in the Wing Sin Triad," Tristan "I've never heard of it, sir," the concierge said.

  "Come on now," Tristan said. He took twenty dollars from his pocket and put it on the desk.

  "I've come a long way."

  "Triads are illegal in Hong Kong," the concierge said. He pushed the money back to Tristan.

  "I don't really care about their legal status," Tristan said.

  "I just want to talk to somebody in the Wing Sin. I need some information. I'm willing to pay."

  "I beg your pardon," the concierge said, "but I don't know anything about triads." He seemed nervous, even edgy.

  Tristan studied the concierge's face for a moment, then nodded.

  "Okay, but why don't I leave this twenty here in case you remember. We'll be here for a few days."

  The concierge looked down at the twenty-dollar bill with disgust.

  It was hardly enough to justify the risk. As far as tips and squeeze were concerned, the Australians were the worst. They truly were barbarians.

  The concierge raised his eyes and watched the man cross the lobby and meet with a dark-haired Caucasian woman, then head up to the bar. As soon as they were out of sight, he reached down and picked up the receiver on one of his many telephones. He'd had a lot of strange requests since he'd worked at the Peninsula, but t1tis was one of the strangest.

  Marissa swirled the ice cubes in her glass of mineral water and listened to Tristan reminisce about his childhood in a suburb of Melbourne. It sounded idyllic. He'd commuted each day to an English-style public school in the city via a green tram and a red train. He'd had a stamp collection and went to church on Sunday.

  His father was a schoolteacher.

  "It was a sheltered life," he admitted.

  "But very pleasant. To this day, I have a definite nostalgia for its simplicity.

  "Unfortunately my father died," Tristan said.

  "He'd never been the picture of health. All the sudden he wilted and died.

  Wasn't even sick that long. After that, we moved from Melbourne to Brisbane where my mother's family was involved in the restaurant business on the Gold Coast. That's how I happened to go to the University of Queensland."

  Marissa was exhausted. The traveling was taking its toll. She enjoyed listening to Tristan, but was eager to turn in. She was also thinking about phoning Robert.

  "Maybe we should call it a day," she said when there was a lull in the conversation.

  "I think I'd better give my husband a ring to let him know I'm here."

  Marissa had told Tristan about her childhood in Virginia and about her surgeon father and how she'd ended up in medical school. She'd also been careful to tell him about Robert, purposefully avoiding mention of their current marital problems.

  "Yes, of course, call him!" Tristan said, standing up for Marissa.

  "Why don't you go on up? I'll be along soon. I thought perhaps I might quiz some of the taxi drivers about the Wing Sin."

  Marissa took the elevator to the sixth floor. She had her key in hand, but the moment the elevator door parted, the hall porter appeared from nowhere and opened her door for her. She tried to thank the man but he bowed and wouldn't even look her in the eye.

  She called Robert as soon as she got in. She decided to make it a collect call, not sure how her finances would hold out.

  "You just caught me on the way to the office," he told her after accepting the charges.

  "Have you sold the stock?" Marissa asked. She thought of it as the call was going through.

  "No, I haven't sold the stock," Robert admitted.

  "When are you coming home? And where are you? I tried calling your hotel.

  I was told you'd checked out."

  "I'm not in Australia anymore," Marissa said.

  "I'm calling to let you know I'm in Hong Kong."

  "Hong Kong!" Robert yelled.

  "What the hell are you doing in Hong Kong?"

  "Just a little investigative work."

  "Marissa, this is too much!" Robert fumed.

  "I want you home.

  Do you understand?"

  "I'll take it under advisement," Marissa said, echoing Robert's reply to her request to sell his stock. Marissa hung up. There was no point trying to talk to him. He didn't even inquire about how she was feeling.

  Marissa went to the window and gazed out at the scene. Even in the dark of night, Hong Kong boiled with activity. It could just as well have been the middle of the day. The lights of multitudinous vessels moved like fireflies over the surface of the water.

  Across the harbor in Central on Hong Kong Island, the windows in the office high-rises were all ablaze, as if the businessmen could not dare to take an hour off. In Hong Kong the seductive ness of capitalism was complemented by the sheer power of human endeavor on a twenty-four-hour basis.

  Just then Marissa heard a door close. She assumed it was Tristan. Within seconds there was a knock on the connecting door. Marissa told him to come in.

  "Good news, luv," Tristan said excitedly.

  "One of the Caucasian doormen gave me a tip. He said there is a place not far from here where the triads reign supreme."

  "Where?" Marissa asked.

  "In an area called the Walled City," Tristan said.

  "It isn't really walled, but it was way back when. It was built as a fort in the twelfth century by the Sung dynasty. The Japanese occupying forces in World War II had the walls torn down to extend the runway at Kai Tac Airport. But the salient feature is that the British and the Chinese could never decide who had jurisdiction.

  So this little area has existed over the years in a kind of political limbo. Yet it's right here on the outskirts of Kowloon."

  "You sound like a tour operator," Marissa commented.

  "Apparently it's rather infamous," Tristan said.

  "The doorman said that if we wanted to contact the triads, he thought the Walled City would be a good place to start. What do you say about heading over there and giving it a go?"

  "Now?" Marissa questioned.

  "You're the one who's so eager," Tristan said.

  Marissa nodded; it was true. It was also true that her unsatisfying phone conversation with Robert had filled her with nervous energy.

  "Okay!" she said.

  "Let's give it a try."

  "Good show," Tristan said. He got his hat. Together they headed for the door.

  The Chinese taxi driver wasn't enthusiastic about their intended destination.

  "I don't think you want to go to the Walled City," he said. Marissa and Tristan were already in the backseat of his Toyota.

  "It's not a place for tourists."

  "But we're not going as tourists," Tristan said.

  "The Walled City is a pocket of crime," the driver warned.

  "The police don't go in there."

  "We're not looking for the police," Tristan said.

  "We're looking for the Wing Sin."

  Reluctantly the driver put the car in gear.

  "It's your heads," he said.

  They pulled away from the hotel and turned up Nathan Road into the gaudy glow of Tsim Sha Tsui nightlife. Just like the harbor, the city was as busy as it had been during the day. Their cab inched through swarms of pedestrians, cars, and buses.

  Above, garish neon fights lit the night sky. Across the road hung banners emblazoned with huge Chinese characters.

  Feeling overwhelmed by the sights, Marissa turned inward into the taxi. With all the talk about triads, she asked Tristan what they were.

  "They're secret societies," Tristan explained, "with all the usual secret oaths and rituals. The term triad comes from the relationship among heaven, earth
, and man. They started hundreds of years ago as subversive political organizations, but soon found crime more rewarding. Especially the ones that either came to Hong Kong or were founded here. There are supposed to be about fifty gangs in Hong Kong alone, with thousands upon thousands of members."