by Ian Hamilton
“I won’t.”
“And I will make sure Perkasa is on twenty-four-hour standby.”
“Okay.”
“We have to pay these people. It is not like the usual exchange of favours. I am going to send him money right away so that he is ready to travel.”
“That’s perfect.”
“And I want to know where you are staying.”
“Yes, Uncle, as soon as I know,” she said, wondering why he seemed so cautious. “I’ll probably make the booking tonight, and if I do I’ll forward you the details. In the meantime, could you email me the phone numbers and any other contact information you have on Chung?”
“Better to call him Perkasa. He does not know that I know his Chinese name.”
“Huh?”
“It is a little complicated to explain.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I will send you the information you want, as well as everything he told me about the bank and Cameron.”
Ava hung up and turned on her computer. Gail had already replied. The quickest route to Surabaya was through Hong Kong. She could take a morning flight there, have lunch with Uncle, and then catch a Cathay Pacific flight at three fifty-five that would get her into Surabaya at seven thirty-five.
Gail recommended the Majapahit Hotel, in the centre of the city. Built in 1910 and with only 143 rooms, it was smaller and older than most of the hotels Ava stayed at. But it was a five-star hotel, built by the same family that owned Raffles in Singapore. Better than Raffles evidently, Gail wrote.
Book the flight through Hong Kong for tomorrow, and the hotel, Ava wrote back. She picked up her cellphone and dialled Uncle’s number.
“I was sitting at the computer trying to send you that information,” he said.
“I hope you wiped the dust off it first,” she said.
“I use it more often now, not that I am any faster.”
“I’ve just booked my flight to Surabaya,” she said. “I’m coming through Hong Kong. I’ll land around ten thirty and don’t take off again until three thirty, so we might be able to squeeze in a lunch. And I’m staying at the Hotel Majapahit.”
“I will let Perkasa know,” Uncle said. “Are you sure you do not want him now?”
“No, let him stay in Jakarta. If I need him he’s only a few hours away,” Ava said. She didn’t like the thought of having someone hanging around. It added a pressure, however slight, that she didn’t need.
“All right.”
“And tomorrow you don’t have to come to the airport to collect me. Let’s have dim sum at Man Wah at the Mandarin. I’ll meet you there.”
“I will wait in the lobby.”
“Perfect. Till then,” she said, and ended the call.
She went to the computer again. Waiting for Uncle’s email to come through, she scrolled through the messages in her inbox. May Ling had written her nightly correspondence, and Ava read it with feelings that were more mixed than ever. May wrote that she was putting together a business plan she hoped would entice Ava to get on board. She was going to need more time to finish it, and it was the type of thing she wanted to discuss in person. Maybe when we’re together in Hong Kong for Amanda’s wedding, we could find the time, May wrote.
That’s fine with me, Ava replied, not at all surprised that May Ling had already been invited to the wedding. Amanda knew whose bread should be buttered first.
She was beginning to feel tired again, and she was considering turning off her cellphone and getting into bed when the phone rang. It was Johnny Yan.
“Hey, what do you have?” she said.
“And hello to you too.”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be abrupt. I’m just tired.”
“No problem, I’m used to it,” Yan said with a laugh. “I spoke with Henry. He was really curious about why I was asking him about that bank.”
“Really? So he knows something about it?”
“Yeah, it turns out that he knows Dominic Rocca. They were in the Commonwealth internship program together and then they sort of kept in touch, even though Rocca went to one of the other Canadian banks before he surfaced at Bank Linno.”
“That’s convenient.”
“According to Henry, this bank had narrow interests. It was primarily a lender and it seemed to specialize in real estate — condos, shopping centres, smaller office complexes.”
“My man tells me he had an account there, so it had to offer other services,” Ava said.
“Yeah, but on a strictly limited basis, to priority customers.”
“So what did Rocca do at the bank?”
“Managed a lot of the real estate business, evidently. He bragged to Henry that in some years he put as much money into the Toronto market as some of the major banks.”
“Just Toronto?”
“Yeah, that was the strange part — just Toronto. In the city proper and just northwest of it, around Woodbridge, Vaughan, Kleinburg, Maple.”
“Why did the bank close?”
“Henry didn’t even know it had. It’s been months since he’s talked to Rocca.”
“Do you think you could ask him to reach out to Rocca? If he doesn’t want to, could he get me Rocca’s contact information?”
“I’m one step ahead of you. Here, write this down,” Yan said, giving her a phone number and a personal email address.
“That’s great. Now, how about the other guy?”
“Henry has never heard of him. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have heard of the bank if Rocca hadn’t been involved. So I did a name search on Muljadi and came up with absolutely nothing.”
Ava made a note and then returned to the question that was gnawing at her. “Johnny, why would the bank close?”
“I have no idea,” he said.
“Take a guess.”
“Not making enough money? I mean, a lot of them come here thinking it’s going to be easy going and then find out otherwise. Others have closed, you know.”
“They were in real estate. How can you not make money doing that in Toronto?”
“You told me to take a guess and that’s what I did. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Sorry, Johnny, I wasn’t picking on you. I just can’t help thinking there has to be another reason.”
“Talk to Rocca. Talk to that guy Muljadi.”
“I’ll try, but I’m going to Surabaya tomorrow. I have a small lead there, so that might work out better for me.”
“That reminds me,” Yan said quickly. “Henry reminded me that we have a mutual friend who lives there. His name is John Masterson. I have to look up his phone number and email. When I do, I’ll send him your number and give him a heads-up that you’re going to be there and that you’re a friend.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s in the crab business.”
Ava’s experiences with the seafood business had been mixed, and her opinion of the people who populated it was harsh. “Thanks. I’ll reach out to him if it’s necessary.”
“He’s a fun guy. Even if you don’t need his help he might be worth contacting.”
A seafood guy and a fun guy — it sounded like a deadly combination. “Thanks, Johnny.”
( 15 )
She slept fitfully, the jet lag and the strange bed overpowering the wine’s effects. Ava dreamt frequently and her father was most often the central figure — always out of reach, a distant figure she chased to no avail, in and out of hotels and airports. That night she dreamt of Maria for the first time. They were in a stranger’s house that was filled with people she didn’t know. The two of them sat on a couch drinking wine as a party swirled around them. Maria undid her blouse and exposed a breast to Ava, urging her to suck the nipple. Ava did, reluctantly, keenly aware of the eyes that were on them. Then Maria pulled up her skirt and began to masturbate. Despite her embarrassment, Ava was aroused and reached down to touch herself. Play, play, Maria said. Ava woke throbbing and close to climax. She slipped her hand beneath the sh
eets and finished what she had begun in her sleep. Good God, she thought afterwards, what kind of dream was that?
It was just past six thirty when she hauled herself out of bed. Erotic dreams were foreign to her, as were dreams about Maria, and she couldn’t help but be bothered by them. She understood well enough what her father’s distant, unavailable presence meant in her nighttime wanderings, but what was her subconscious telling her about Maria and their relationship?
Ava brushed her teeth and then showered quickly. She wanted to spend some time on the computer before heading for the airport. She threw on her casual wear and then packed her bags so she was ready to go. The room had a hot water Thermos; Ava made herself an instant coffee and took it to the desk.
She opened her book and reread the notes she had made the night before while talking to Uncle and Johnny. When she was done, she replaced the SIM card in her cell with one that had a Toronto 905 area code and the name James Lewis as the caller ID. She punched in the number for Dominic Rocca. It rang once and then flipped to an automated message informing her that the number was no longer in service.
Her computer was still on from the night before. Ava logged in as James Lewis and sent an email to Rocca enquiring about investment opportunities. It took only a few seconds for it to bounce back as undeliverable.
She entered a Canadian website she used to track addresses and phone numbers. She input Rocca’s name and the phone number she had, and for city references she put in Toronto, Woodbridge, Maple, and Vaughan. It came up completely dry. Then she tried Muljadi with the same locations and again came up empty. Google was equally devoid of any mention of either of them. Would they both disappear just because the bank office closed? she wondered. Or maybe they haven’t disappeared. Maybe they were low-key and under the radar from the get-go. Either way, it felt strange to her.
Andy Cameron wasn’t quite so invisible. When he was with the Falkirk Stirling Bank, he had received several promotions that were worthy of news releases but not pictures. His last recorded rise in status had been his appointment as director of the bank’s Rome office. He was still in his mid-thirties when he got the appointment, so he was obviously bright, although his education seemed to be limited to a BA from the University of Aberdeen. There was no mention of his appointment to the presidency of Bank Linno. More strangeness, and this time compounded by the fact that Ava couldn’t quite see how a Brit working in a bank branch in Rome could — or would want to — manoeuvre his way to Surabaya and become the head of a decidedly provincial and obscure bank.
She circled Andy Cameron’s name and then underlined it. She was going to need to talk to him, but under what pretence? She rifled through some of the business cards she kept for these situations and found one that attached her to a real accounting firm in Hong Kong that was close to Uncle. She’d used them for cover before, and they’d been terrific about backing her up. All she needed to do was let them know the when and the how of it, and all that would take was a phone call to Uncle. She called his cell, which went directly to voicemail, so she called his apartment.
“Hello?” Lourdes answered, hesitantly.
“It’s Ava.”
“That’s not the name on the screen.”
“I forgot to switch back my SIM card,” Ava said. “Can I speak to Uncle, please?”
“He’s not here. He went out.”
“I called his cell and he didn’t answer.”
“I don’t know where he is, and I don’t know why he’s not answering his phone,” Lourdes said, her voice heavy.
“Has he been doing this a lot?”
“Yes.”
“Lourdes, Sonny spoke to me a little about this. I don’t want you to worry. I’m going to talk to Uncle when I can, and we’ll find out what’s bothering him, okay?” Ava waited for Lourdes to respond. When she didn’t, she said, “Did you hear me?”
“I don’t want him to know that I said anything to Sonny. He would be very angry with me,” she said slowly.
“Your name won’t be mentioned.”
“Ava, I’m afraid.”
“He wouldn’t be that angry, Lourdes, even if he suspected you had said something.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m afraid for him.”
“Don’t leap to conclusions. There could be a completely logical explanation for the way he has been behaving,” Ava said, with more conviction than she felt.
“Do you think so?”
“Absolutely.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are coming, and how happy he is. When he found out yesterday, he smiled for the rest of the day.”
“Lourdes, I am only the second most important woman in his life. Without you, he wouldn’t be able to function at all.”
“Oh, Ava.”
“I mean it,” Ava said, thinking, Please don’t cry.
Lourdes choked it back and said, “When he gets back, I’ll make sure he calls you.”
Ava ended the call and pushed the chair back from the desk. Hong Kong was now starting to become as important as Surabaya.
( 16 )
The flight to Hong Kong was delayed, and Ava didn’t get into Chek Lap Kok until almost two o’clock. She left a message for Uncle on his cellphone, saying she couldn’t meet him for lunch. Then she went through the in-transit gate and headed directly to the Cathay Pacific business lounge. She didn’t turn on her phone until she was inside; she had missed three incoming calls, from her mother, Maria, and Uncle. She saved the first two messages without listening to them and went directly to his. He just said, “I got your message. Call me.”
“Wei.”
“It’s Ava. I’ve finally landed.”
“You missed a good lunch,” he said. “The flight to Surabaya is on time?”
“Yes, it is. Uncle, did Lourdes tell you I called the apartment earlier, before I went to the airport?”
“She did. I thought it was for the same reason.”
“No, I need some cover and I’d like to use the business card from Dynamic Accounting. Please call them for me and let them know I’m going to be in Surabaya trying to meet with Andy Cameron at Bank Linno. My story is that we represent a Hong Kong investor who is looking at putting some money into East Java and we thought it might be wise to hook up with a local bank. You never know, Cameron or someone from the bank might call them to confirm.”
“It won’t be a problem.”
“Great.”
“Is that all?”
No, she thought, I’d like to know what you were doing this morning. “Yes, that’s all,” she said.
“Be careful over there.”
“I’m trying to meet a banker, that’s all.”
“That is what Lam started off doing.”
“Enough said. I’ll be careful, and if I need Perkasa I won’t hesitate to reach out for him.”
“He is waiting.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Keep me up to date on things.”
“As always,” she said.
As Ava ended the call she thought about phoning Sonny and then decided against it. He’d said he would call her when he knew something. There was no need to pester him.
The Cathay lounge had a noodle bar, and Ava ordered a bowl of rice noodles with har gow. As she waited, she listened to her mother’s message. Marcus had called her with the news about the wedding, and Jennie could barely contain her glee. Ava’s presence and role at the wedding would be more public validation than their second family had ever received. “You may be the one standing next to the bride, but everyone at that wedding is going to know that you are my daughter. I might as well be standing there myself,” she said. Her father had obviously done a good selling job.
The voicemail from Maria was shorter. “I love you so much and I miss you so much. Hurry home.”
It was the middle of the night in Toronto, safe enough to call them both and leave messages without worrying about their answering. “Mummy, I am very proud to be your da
ughter, and when I’m at the wedding I’m going to make sure everyone there knows that.” Then, to Maria, “I miss you too.” Embarrassed by her display of sentiment, Ava said under her breath, “That’s enough of that for this trip.”
The flight to Indonesia was four and half hours, landing her at Juanda International Airport on time at seven thirty-five. It was another new airport, built for efficiency, and Ava could have cleared Customs and Immigration and been in a taxi within fifteen minutes if she hadn’t needed to buy a visa. Unlike most other countries, Indonesia made visitors buy visas when they arrived. It was a slow process but thankfully a short line. Still, it took twenty minutes before she had a seven-day visa stapled into her passport for a cost of ten U.S. dollars.
She stepped outside the terminal into a beautiful evening, temperature in the mid-twenties, a light breeze. She got into the taxi line and found herself surrounded by smokers. The smell of cloves wafted from their cigarettes — she had forgotten about that Indonesian habit. Ava bypassed one taxi when she saw the driver was smoking, and got happily into the next, which had a big no-smoking sign on its rear window.
“The Hotel Majapahit,” she said. “How long?”
“About thirty minutes.”
She waited for the usual caveat about traffic but there wasn’t any, because there wasn’t any need. The cab drove the entire distance at the posted speed. Ava began to wonder if she was actually in an Asian city.
She knew Surabaya had more than three million people and was the second-largest city in Indonesia. It just didn’t feel like it. First there was the relative lack of traffic, and they seemed to be driving through quiet residential areas. Ava kept waiting for the downtown skyscrapers to appear, for the wall-to-wall shops, the big hotel complexes. It wasn’t until twenty-five minutes into their drive that they began to appear, though in more modest forms than in many other major cities she’d been to.
The driver pointed out the hotel before she saw it. “The Majapahit . . . It’s a hundred years old,” he said.
It was already dark, and the floodlit hotel front, all white marble, glass, and dark wood, shone like something out of a dream. As they eased into the driveway, the sprawling gardens became visible. A uniformed doorman came down the steps to greet her. Ava tried to wave off his help, but he either didn’t speak English or didn’t care. He took both of her bags and led her into the lobby.
