Robin Cook 1990 - Vital Signs

by Vital Signs(lit)

  "You look smashing, mate," Willy said.

  "The flowers for me?"

  "I do look good, don't IT' Ned said, pleased with his Harris tweed jacket, gabardine slacks, and brown loafers. He laid the flowers on the backseat.

  "What's the lay of the land?"

  "It's been quiet since the uproar I caused," Willy said.

  "I don't know what could have happened. It was a perfect setup. The lobby was crowded just the way you told me was best. I was no more than two or three paces away from Williams when he whirled and attacked me!"

  "Bad luck!" Ned said.

  "Was the woman there?"

  "Of course," Willy said.

  "She was standing right next to him.

  In another ten seconds I'd have shot both of them."

  "Maybe she recognized you from the boat," Ned said.

  "Anyway, it doesn't matter. They still in the hotel?"

  "Yes," Willy said.

  "I've been here most of the night. I tried calling again and was immediately put through. They haven't moved."

  "That's nice," Ned said.

  "What about the gun?"

  "I got it," Willy said. He leaned in front of Ned and snapped open the glove compartment. He took a handgun out and handed it butt first to Ned.

  Ned whistled.

  "A Heckler and Koch!" he said.

  "My, my, this is first class. What about the silencer?"

  Willy reached back into the glove compartment and handed Ned a small rectangular box. Ned opened the box and unwrapped the silencer.

  "There's something nice about using new equipment," Ned said.

  "One thing about FCA. They go first class on everything."

  Ned screwed the silencer into the pistol. It lengthened the barrel by a third. Then he snapped out the magazine and checked the shells. After making sure the chamber was empty, Ned cocked the gun and pulled the trigger. It had a nice, full-bodied click.

  "Perfect," he said.

  Replacing the clip and ramming it home, Ned cocked the pistol. It was ready for action.

  Twisting in his seat, he eyed Willy.

  "This is not going to take long. I want you to pull the car over there in front of the hotel and have the engine running. Give me about five minutes before you come over, understand?"

  "Righto," Willy said eagerly.

  "I'm off," Ned said. He moved forward on the seat and slipped the gun into his belt at the small of his back. Reaching into the backseat, he lifted the bouquet. Then he got out of the car.

  Hesitating before he crossed the road, he leaned into the car through the open window.

  "I haven't seen this Williams fellow for several years," Ned said.

  "Will I recognize him?"

  "I think so," Willy said.

  "He's about your height, sandy blond hair, angular features. Looks more like a stockman than an MD. "Got it," Ned said. He was about to leave when Willy caught his attention.

  "You won't have any trouble recognizing the woman, will you?" Willy asked.

  "Especially not if she's in her bathers," Ned said with a wink.

  Ned dodged the traffic on Salisbury Road, mindful of the gun tucked in his belt. He didn't want to dislodge it.

  At the Peninsula, the doorman opened the door for him, and he entered the lobby.

  At that time of the morning, the lobby was relatively busy with international travelers checking in or checking out. Luggage was piled in heaps near the bellman's desk, where the bell captain was struggling to keep order. It was to the bellman's desk that Ned walked.

  Ned singled out one of the younger bellboys and approached him as he was piling bags onto a bellman's trolley. Kelly had learned a smattering of Cantonese through his dealings with the Chinese over the years. In Cantonese he asked the young man for a favor. The boy seemed surprised to be addressed by a gwedo in his native tongue.

  Ned slipped the boy a thousand dollars Hong Kong, more than many months' wages. The boy's eyes widened.

  "Some friends are staying here," Ned said.

  "I want to know their room so that I can surprise them. But I don't want them to know. Understand?"

  The boy nodded, then flashed a broad smile.

  "The names are Williams and Blumenthal. I don't know if they have separate rooms or a single."

  The bellboy nodded again and dashed over to the bell captain's desk. Peering past the captain, who was busy on the phone, the bellboy perused the master guest list. In a flash he returned. Ned had lighted up a cigarette in the interim.

  "Pleased to say that it is 604 and 606," the bellboy said with another smile and multiple bows. Ned reached out and stopped him from making a scene. Ned thanked him and walked over to the newsstand. While he leafed through the latest Time magazine with the flowers tucked under his arm, he kept his eye on the bell desk to make sure his dealings with the bellboy didn't arouse any suspicions. But they hadn't. The ecstatic bellboy had gone back to loading his cart as if nothing had happened.

  Ned replaced the magazine. He switched the flowers to his right hand. With an expert eye, he picked out the hotel security people in the lobby. There were two, but neither one had particularly noticed him.

  Walking directly to the elevators, Ned pushed the Up button.

  Things were going smoothly. So far he was pleased. He anticiated giving Lester a call in about fifteen minutes. He was lookp ing forward to the substantial bonus Lester had promised him for a job well done.

  By the time the elevator doors opened on the sixth floor, Ned's pulse was racing. Despite his conscious attempts to keep himself calm, when he got this close to action, he got tense.

  Familiar with the customs of Hong Kong luxury hotels, Ned waited by the elevator once he was on the sixth floor. He gave the hall porter a chance to approach from his cubicle. Ned smiled broadly.

  "Hello, friend," he said in Cantonese.

  The hall porter was an elderly Chinese. He smiled weakly, confused as to who this man could be. He wasn't expecting any new guests that morning.

  "I have a present for you," Ned said. He handed the man a thousand dollars Hong Kong.

  The man's toothless jaw dropped.

  Ned smiled again.

  "I need you to help me for a moment," he said.

  "I want you to open my sister's door. 604. It's her birthday."

  Slipping the bills into his pocket, the hall porter led Ned down the corridor to 604 with a shuffling gait. He was about to knock, but Ned grabbed his arm before his fist hit the door.

  "No," Ned said.

  "It's a surprise."

  The porter nodded, then fished in his pocket for his keys.

  Selecting the proper one, he slipped it into the lock.

  As the porter pushed in the key, Ned glanced up and down the corridor. Then he reached behind his back and extracted the long barreled gun.

  The door opened a crack. The porter started to step aside, but Ned put his hands on the man's back and shoved him forward with as much force as he could muster. The porter's body collided with the partially open door, pushing it open with a bang. The porter sprawled head first on the carpet inside the room.

  Instantly, Ned leaped into the room. He dropped the flowers and held the Heckler and Koch in both hands, elbows locked. His quarry was sitting on the bed with light from the window back lighting his sandy blond hair.

  From Ned's position, looking down the sights of his automatic pistol, Tristan Williams looked confused as he sprang to his feet.

  Ned shot him twice in the forehead, just above the eyes. The gun made only a spitting noise. Tristan went backward over the bed.

  It was easy as pie.

  Wheeling around, Ned looked for the Blumenthal woman. She wasn't in the room. Then he noticed the open connecting door.

  From within, he could hear the sound of water running.

  Ned turned and silently closed the door to the hall. Then he pointed the gun at the hall porter, who was frozen with fear on the middle of the carpet. Ned moti
oned with the gun for the man to move toward the closet.

  Ned opened the closet door, then roughly shoved the porter inside. He softly closed the door behind him, then locked it.

  Moving back to the connecting door, Ned listened. The water was still running. Slowly, he leaned into the room. It was empty, and the bed was stripped of its linens. But the bathroom door was ajar about four inches. Now he could hear the running water more clearly. The Blumenthal woman was filling the tub.

  Without a sound, Ned moved across the room to the bathroom door. Sucking in a deep breath, he raised a foot and kicked it open. In an instant, he was inside.

  The Blumenthal woman was kneeling by the tub. Her back was to the door. He had surprised her completely. She was beginning to rise to her feet when Ned pumped two bullets into the back of her head. She pitched forward into the tub, overturning a bucketful of soapy water in the process.

  Ned looked at the bucket with confusion. Stepping over the soapy water, he grasped the woman by the hair and yanked her head back.

  "Damn!" he muttered. It wasn't the Blumenthal woman at all.

  It was a Chinese cleaning lady.

  Ned let go of the woman's hair. She slumped lifelessly back into the tub. He went back to the first room. Going around the bed, he bent down for a closer look at Williams' body. It was tough to get a good look at him, since the body was jammed between the bed and the wall. With some difficulty Ned managed to straighten Williams out. Then he sifted through his pockets and pulled out the man's wallet. Flipping it open, Ned swore aloud. It wasn't Williams! It was a Robert Buchanan! Who the hell was Robert Buchanan?

  Ned straightened up. What had happened? Had the bellboy given him the wrong room? he wondered. He gave the room a quick search. In a suitcase at the foot of the bed he found a packet of American Express travelers checks. The name on them was Marissa Blumenthal.

  Going to the door to the hallway, Ned put his ear to it and listened. Not hearing anything, he opened the door. The hall was empty. Taking the "Do Not Disturb" sign from its hook, he draped it over the outer doorknob. Then he left, closing the door behind him.

  Nd

  Descending to the ground floor, Ned casually strolled around the lobby. He wandered through the breakfast room and several of the function rooms. Nowhere did he see anyone resembling Williams or Blumenthal. Finally, he gave up and headed for the door.

  Just outside the hotel's entrance, Ned found Willy sitting in the Nissan with the motor running. Ned opened the door and got in.

  Willy could tell that something was wrong.

  "Williams and the woman weren't there," Ned said with irritation.

  "Are you sure you didn't see them leave the hotel?"

  "No way!" Willy said.

  "And I've been here almost all night.

  They didn't leave."

  Ned stared ahead through the windshield. He shook his head.

  "Well, they weren't in their rooms. And now I've succeeded in messing things up even worse than you did. I killed the wrong people!"

  "Hell!" Willy said.

  "What are we going to do now?"

  Ned shook his head.

  "One thing that we aren't going to do is collect that bonus. That's the sad part. I suppose we'll have to turn it over to the Wing Sin. Let's go."

  "I hate to say this," Marissa said, "but I think I like this watch better than the last one. It's more feminine." Marissa was admiring her Seiko tank-style watch.

  "Quite attractive," Tristan agreed. He looked at his own.

  "Maybe I should have tried a different style- Well, maybe I'll get my chance. We're still in Hong Kong. So far it's been a watch a day."

  They inched ahead a few more feet.

  "How long is this tunnel?" Marissa asked. She was starting to feel the way she did when they'd been locked in the trunk.

  "Beats me," Tristan said. He scooted forward and lowered the glass separating the back compartment from the driver.

  "Hey, Bentley, how long is this tunnel?"

  "A little less than a mile, Mr. Williams," Bentley said.

  Tristan settled back.

  "Did you hear?" he said.

  "Unfortunately," Marissa said.

  "At this rate, it will take an hour just to get over to Hong Kong Island. I've never seen traffic like this."

  Marissa and Tristan were in the depths of the Cross Harbor Tunnel. They'd met up with their new driver that morning after '46_ leaving the hotel through the employee entrance. Tristan,had thought it wise to leave as surreptitiously as possible.

  Bentley had turned out to be just what they'd hoped. Bentley Chang, their new driver, was all muscle and the size of a Sumo wrestler. In the language department, he could have qualified for work at the UN. He spoke the Queen's English in addition to Japanese, Cantonese, Mandarin, and some Hakka and Tanka.

  He also convinced Tristan that he was knowledgeable in kung fu.

  He inspired Marissa's confidence with the pistol he carried in a shoulder holster.

  His car was equally impressive. It turned out to be an armored Mercedes normally reserved for visiting dignitaries. When Marissa asked Tristan what it cost, he told her not to ask. He'd made the arrangements the night before, calling the limousine company himself instead of using the concierge.

  By the time they got to the lower tram station for the run up Victoria Peak, it was nine-thirty.

  "And I was hoping we'd be early," Tristan said.

  Before they got out of the car, Tristan went over the instructions he'd given Bentley earlier, namely that Bentley was to drive to the peak and watch from a distance. If anything went amiss, Tristan would signal by running his hand through his hair twice.

  If Bentley saw that, he was to intervene as he saw fit. If everything went off without a hitch, Bentley would drive down to the dropoff point and wait for Marissa and Tristan to come down in the tram.

  "Any questions?" Tristan asked the muscular Bentley.

  "Just one," Bentley said.

  "If you are involved with narcotics, please let me know."

  Tristan laughed.

  "No, we're not involved with drugs of any kind."

  "I will be angry if you are not truthful," Bentley said.

  "I wouldn't want you to get angry," Tristan assured him.

  The ride up in the red tram, which was really a funicular railway, turned out to be a delight. Quickly they left behind the concrete of Central and rose up into wooded slopes filled with bowers of jasmine, wild indigo, daphne, and rhododendrons.

  Even from the confines of the tram, they could hear magpies singing.

  The peak itself turned out to be a disappointment. The morning mist still shrouded the mountaintop, and Marissa and Tristan could see nothing of the reputed view. The foliage, however, was quite beautiful, particularly the exotic trees still beaded with dew.

  Trying to make their presence apparent, Marissa and Tristan circled the Peak Tower a number of times. The tower was a three-story shopping mall with restaurants, an ice cream stand, a drugstore, and evena supermarket. Marissa was intrigued by the stalls that sold Chinese handicrafts.

  As they wandered, they kept an eye out for the three men who'd abducted them the day before. But they saw no one they recognized except Bentley. He'd arrived as directed. As agreed, he remained unobtrusively in the background. Neither he nor Tristan and Marissa exchanged so much as a nod.

  By quarter after eleven, Tristan and Marissa were ready to give up.

  "I suppose word of the to-do at the Peninsbla got to them," Marissa said.

  "Damn," Tristan said.

  "Now I don't know what to do. We're back to the beginning."

  Slowly they ambled back toward the upper tram station, feeling depressed. After such high anticipation, this was quite a letdown.

  "Excuse me," an elderly woman said, approaching them. She was wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat with black fringe. She'd been sitting on a bench near the tram entrance.

  "Are you Mr.