The Water Rat of Wanchai

by Ian Hamilton

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Both companies, of course, reported well — long-standing, excellent reputations — so I’m not suggesting even for a second that either would be involved in some illegal operation.”

  “I should think not,” Ava said.

  “Seto is another matter,” Bates said. She noted that the honorific had disappeared. “His account has been a minor concern for some time, and I say minor because until recently there wasn’t that much money going through it. I went through some of the bank’s files. We’ve had calls from lawyers and the like before, asking questions about him and his account. There were claims that he misappropriated funds. There was no proof, of course, and the chap who was here before me let the matter slide. Even if he hadn’t, of course, the bank would hardly be able to just give the money back.”

  Ava sighed. “I had no knowledge of any of this, and I’m sure Dynamic doesn’t either. As far as I can tell, Seto was referred to them, and vouched for, by a cousin of the CEO.”

  “Well, now you’ve been warned.”

  “Has the Treasury Department taken any action?”

  “No, not according to the Dallas banker, and he should be in a position to know.”

  “So it’s supposition at this point?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Still, I’m going to speak to my boss and make sure he talks to Dynamic. Knowing him and them as well as I do, I imagine they will distance themselves from Seto as quickly as they can. We are committed to concluding this transaction, but after that I can’t see them conducting any more business with him.”

  “I’m of the same mind,” Bates said, a trace of anger in his voice. “My bank has an operating code of ethics that is the very first thing new recruits have drummed into them. We have survived and thrived for more than two hundred years by doing business completely within the letter of the law. If the U.S. government ever charged Seto with money laundering and our bank was somehow implicated, I can tell you it would end the career of everyone who had put a finger to it.”

  He’s worried, genuinely worried, Ava realized. “Jeremy, I’m absolutely sure nothing will come of this,” she said softly. “Money laundering is easy to say and hard to prove. Has the Treasury Department contacted you yet?”

  “No.”

  “There you go. If they were really bearing down on Seto I’m sure they would have contacted you by now. The Dallas bank told them where they sent his money, yes?”

  Bates nodded.

  “So the fact that a week has passed and they haven’t followed up with even a phone call does tell you something. You won’t hear from them. I’m sure of it.”

  “I thought that as well.”

  “Anyway, Treasury Department or not, we will cut ourselves free of him after this.”

  “As will the bank. I’m going to close his account as soon as your wires clear. When you see him, tell him I need to talk to him privately. He can come here or I will come to the apartment.”

  Ava sat back. “Jeremy, do you think you could delay doing anything until I leave? This is quite uncomfortable for me. I was going to stay with him until he was well enough to travel, but now I have to call Hong Kong and probably adjust my plans. I would appreciate it if you could hold off until I have some direction.”

  “Of course,” Bates said, his hand reaching across the table as he passed over the envelope.

  Ava touched his fingers and then pulled back. She looked at the brown envelope. “Are those my copies?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course. Forgive me for getting distracted,” he said.

  She opened it and took out the confirmations. Both had been registered at 4:15 p.m. “Thank you so much.”

  “It was my pleasure. I’m just sorry about dinner. Maybe tomorrow night?”

  “If I’m here — and I think I will be — I’d love it.”

  He walked her to the elevator, his hand lightly touching her elbow, a display of interest that confirmed what she had already decided: it was time to leave Tortola.

  As the elevator door closed, Jeremy Bates left her life as completely as if he’d never been in it. During the ride down and halfway across the lobby, the Robbins brothers consumed all her attention. But it wasn’t until she was nearly out the door that it dawned on her she was taking some things about them for granted. She stopped, opened the envelope, and took out the wire confirmation for the two million that had gone to Uncle. She folded it into a small square and tucked it inside her underwear.

  The car was where she had last seen it. Davey saw her first and said something to Robbins. The big man whipped his head in her direction, his eyes drawn to the envelope. Ava gave thanks to whatever impulse had made her remember the second wire.

  She climbed into the front seat and said, “I’m starving. I need to eat.”

  “Was the money sent?” said Robbins.

  “Yes, I told you it was.”

  “Is that the confirmation?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to see it. Pass me the envelope.”

  “Do you have your brother’s permission?”

  His voice rose. “You need to stop fucking around with me.”

  Ava turned around to face him. “I’m not fucking with you. I’m doing business with your brother. I’m not showing this to anyone unless he tells me to.”

  Robbins stared at her. Ava could see that he was trying to make up his mind whether she was being respectful towards the Captain or pissy towards him. “I’ll call him,” he said.

  “That’s the wise thing to do,” she said.

  He climbed out of the car and crossed the sidewalk to a white stucco wall. He leaned against it, the phone appearing in his gloved hand. Davey looked sideways at her as if to say Be careful. Ava realized it was the first time she’d actually been alone with the driver. “Why does Robbins wear those gloves?” she asked him.

  “Ugly, huh?”

  “Certainly not pleasant.”

  “Nothing freaky, if that’s what you’re worried about. He got what he thought was eczema a few weeks ago. It comes and goes, except this time it didn’t go. The doctor told him he’s got some kind of ringworm. He got some medication but he has to wear the gloves for a few days.”

  “It hasn’t done anything for his disposition.”

  “Hey, with or without the gloves, Robbins is a piece of work.”

  “How long have you worked for him?”

  Davey laughed. “What makes you think I work for him?”

  “I assumed.”

  “He’s got his own day job and I got mine. This is just a short-term gig for me. I crew for a living. This is the busiest charter port in the Caribbean. I’m off again in two or three days. We got some honeymooners going island-hopping for a week.”

  “What does he do?” Ava asked.

  “He’s a cop.”

  “I should have guessed.”

  “Why? He sure as shit doesn’t look like one.”

  “And what does your typical cop look like?” Ava asked.

  “Not like the Michelin man.”

  Robbins lumbered towards the car. Davey said, “Best for us not to talk so much. He’s a suspicious son of a bitch.”

  “My brother wants to speak to you,” Robbins said from the door, holding his phone over the back of the front seat.

  “Captain,” Ava said.

  “I understand congratulations are in order, Ms. Lee.”

  “The money has been sent.”

  “Well done, very well done. Now do me a favour and pass the confirmation to my brother. He’ll need the phone back as well.”

  Ava handed them both over. The big man retreated to the wall again. She started to speak to Davey, but he turned his head away.

  She watched as Robbins read the wire details to his brother. When he was done, he climbed into the car, a fat, sloppy grin spreading across his face. He handed her the phone.

  “Yes, Captain,” she said.

  “I imagine you’re eager to i
nform Hong Kong of your success?”

  “You know I am.”

  “I’ve told my brother that you’re free to use your computer. Please show him the transfer requests you did before and then follow the same model.”

  “The only difference, obviously, is that I’m going to ask our accountant to fax and email you directly a copy of our bank’s wire transfer to your Cayman account.”

  “That’s understood. I must say, Ms. Lee, it’s a pleasure doing business with someone who values efficiency as much as I do.”

  “Well, speaking of efficiency,” Ava said, “while I’m on the computer I wouldn’t mind booking a flight out of here for sometime late tomorrow.”

  “I guess that won’t do any harm,” Robbins said slowly. “But until things are concluded, you understand, our current working arrangement will remain intact.”

  “I didn’t expect anything different.”

  “Good. Now let me speak to my brother again.”

  Jack Robbins listened for a minute, closed his phone, and said to Davey, “Take us back to the apartment.”

  “Hey, I need to eat,” Ava protested.

  “We’ll have something delivered.”

  ( 38 )

  AVA REALLY DID HAVE TO EAT. THE MEMORY OF THE fish and chips was long gone, and the rice crackers and hummus she’d snacked on during the afternoon hadn’t done much to fill the void in her stomach, a void that had expanded as the tension of doing business with Jeremy Bates and the bank subsided.

  She wanted Chinese. Robbins told her there wasn’t any in Road Town, and when she said that was impossible he turned to Davey. “Tell her, will you?”

  “There ain’t none.”

  “How about Italian?” she asked.

  “You like pizza?” Davey asked. “The Capriccio is good,” he said to Robbins.

  “Drop us off at the apartment and then head over there. Better get three large, with sausage, mushrooms, and olives. That okay with you?” Robbins said to Ava.

  “Thin crust?”

  “Two regular, one thin crust. Call when you get to the building. We’ll come down and get the food.”

  As Ava and Robbins walked back to the Guildford she could feel that he was less tense now as well. She wondered if his brother had said anything in particular to him. When they got into the apartment, he said, “Where do you want to set up the computer?”

  The cable connection was in the kitchen, next to the phone. While Ava got her computer and notebook from her bedroom, Robbins went into the fridge for a Stella. He was sitting at the kitchen table, the bottle already half empty, when she came back and started to get set up.

  The connection was good and Ava quickly got online. “I’m going to sign into my email account now,” she said.

  He came over to her side, his head almost touching her shoulder. “Don’t crowd me, please,” she said. He pulled back about six inches.

  Her inbox had more than thirty messages. “I have to open that one from your brother. It has his fax number in it,” she said, ignoring the others. She opened her notebook to the Guyana page where she’d recorded the Captain’s bank account information, and wrote the fax number underneath. Then she hit the messages sent tab, scanned down, and found her first email to Uncle with Robbins’s bank information.

  “There, that’s what I sent before,” she said to Robbins, not remembering exactly what she had written in addition to the bank details. Not much, it turned out. At least no editorializing, nothing negative about the Captain.

  “Okay,” Robbins said.

  Ava clicked on the compose button, typed in Uncle’s email address, and then copied the email she had shown Robbins, changing only the amount of money to be wired and adding a request that a copy of the confirmation be emailed and faxed to Captain Robbins at the address and number provided. When she had finished, she said, “Here, read this and make sure it’s all right. In fact, why don’t you call your brother and read it to him? That way neither of us has to worry about being accused of screwing up.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” he said.

  “Good. While you do that, I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, standing up. He pulled back to let her pass. She didn’t know which she needed more, to pee or to get out from under the hovering Robbins. Even in mute mode he was still oppressive.

  Ava was about to sit on the toilet, skirt pulled up and panties around her knees, when the copy of the second wire transfer fell to the floor. God help her if she hadn’t remembered it back at the bank. She would have been hard-pressed to talk her way around that problem. It would have cost her more money at the very least, and more important, it would have destroyed any trust the Captain had in her. She picked it up and tucked it back into her underwear.

  When she came out of the washroom, Robbins was at the table again, a second beer freshly opened. “Did you reach your brother?” she asked.

  He nodded. “You can send the email.”

  “I want to change first. I don’t feel like eating pizza in these clothes.”

  “Whatever.”

  She took off her jewellery first, putting everything neatly away. Then she slid off her skirt and reached into her panties for the folded piece of paper, which she put in the pocket of the Shanghai Tang bag that held her Hong Kong passport. She unbuttoned her shirt, thinking that with any luck she was done with dress shirts for a while, and reached for her last clean T-shirt.

  “Your brother did tell you that I can stay online and book a flight after I send this email?” Ava asked as she re-entered the living room and walked towards the kitchen.

  Robbins nodded and then got to his feet to stand behind the chair where she’d been sitting. Ava resumed her place. The email was still exactly as she had drafted it. She hit the send button. “There we go — the easiest two million dollars Captain Robbins ever made,” she said.

  The apartment intercom sounded. Davey’s familiar voice said, “Pizza man.”

  Robbins went to the door and pressed the button. “Can you get in?”

  “Not without a key.”

  “Okay, I’m coming downstairs,” he said and then looked at Ava.

  “I’m looking for flights. I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

  He hesitated.

  “What am I going to do, for God’s sake, jump off the balcony?”

  “Be back in two,” he said.

  Ava found an American Airlines flight to San Juan. From there she could catch the midnight flight to Montreal or any one of a number of connections to Toronto through Miami, Chicago, or Newark. She did a rough calculation. If they moved fast in Hong Kong, Robbins would have his copy of the wire by morning — the middle of the night, actually. That might allow her to get a morning flight to San Juan, an early afternoon flight to the U.S., and a connection that would get her into Toronto in the evening. Why not? she thought, as she signed off on that itinerary.

  Just as she finished, Robbins was back with three large pizza boxes in hand. He put them on the counter, the aroma filling the small kitchen. He opened the top one and put it aside. “That’s yours,” he said.

  Ava salivated as she took a plate from the cupboard. As she did, Robbins took her place at the computer. He hit the messages sent tab. The email to Uncle was top of the list. He switched to deleted messages. Nothing. Ava forgot about any growing notion that Robbins trusted her, even in the slightest.

  She watched until he was finished. When he stood up, she leaned down and turned off the computer. It’s almost over, she thought, as she put three slices of pizza on her plate, poured a glass of sparkling water, tucked her notebook under her arm, and headed for the balcony.

  ( 39 )

  AVA DIDN’T SLEEP WELL. SHE HAD GONE TO BED EARLY, way too early. She hadn’t been tired, just bored. With Jeremy Bates out of the way, the money sent to Hong Kong, and the Captain at least half managed, her mind was now purring along in low gear. Robbins had parked himself in front of the television and she wasn’t about to join him. She had no phone
and didn’t want to have to ask permission to turn on the computer again. That left the view of the harbour from the balcony, but bobbing boats have their limitations, especially in the dark. Around nine she went to check on Seto. He was still sleeping, but she figured the chloral hydrate would wear off soon, so she taped his ankles and mouth again and reapplied the handcuffs. Then she went into her bedroom and opened the James Clavell novel.

  She had been reading for no more than ten or fifteen minutes when her eyes began to close. The first time she woke it was just past midnight, and she was on top of the bed with the lights on. She opened the bedroom door and saw that Robbins had fallen asleep on the couch, the television still running, four empty beer bottles on the coffee table. She made a quick bathroom run, turned off the lights, and crawled under the top cover.

  Sleep was now more difficult; thoughts about the day ahead kept intruding. She pushed them aside, only to have Tommy Ordonez slip in through the gaps. She hoped she wouldn’t have to spend any time in the Philippines. Guyana had offered enough hardship to last her for a while. And then Captain Robbins intruded on her consciousness. Had she overplayed her hand with him? No, she thought, his greed aside, they had connected at some level. He was a man who understood how things really worked, what motivated people to do things they wouldn’t normally consider voluntarily — the right things for the wrong reason, although his definition of what was right might differ sharply from hers. Still, they had connected. They had some measure of mutual respect, respect that had nothing to do with approving what the other actually did. It was more for the manner in which each operated. Style points, Ava thought — they gave each other credit for style points.

  The next time she woke it was two thirty. For ten minutes she fought to get back to sleep and then gave up. She turned her light on and picked up James Clavell again. She read for more than an hour before sleep encroached enough for her to turn off the light and give it another try.

  It was dawn when she opened her eyes. She looked at her watch: ten minutes past six. She closed her eyes and began to pray to St. Jude. She had barely started when the tones of the William Tell overture interrupted. It went on and on and then cut out. She went to her door and opened it a crack. Robbins was still asleep. The volume on his cellphone was louder than she remembered, but not loud enough to wake him.