Ava wandered the casino floor for fifteen minutes and then found a spot where she could watch the poker room without being seen. Douglas was on the upper level, looking completely relaxed. She left again, this time for half an hour. When she came back, Douglas hadn’t moved. She headed for her room.
At six o’clock she came back downstairs and saw that Douglas was still holding court. Ava decided it was safe to leave the hotel. The Disciple, true to his reputation and his word, wasn’t going anywhere.
Ichiza was only ten minutes away by cab. Ava hadn’t known there was a Chinatown in Las Vegas, and when they drove past it she knew why: it was basically one mall with about thirty restaurants and stores. Ichiza was exactly where Au had said it was, on the second floor of a strip mall next to Chinatown. She climbed the stairs, past a Chinese bakery and a Korean barbecue restaurant, and entered sashimi heaven.
The restaurant was small and unassuming. It held maybe sixteen tables that were strictly mix and match. There were no shoji screens or tatami mats, no pictures of Mount Fuji on the walls, just a poster advertising Kirin beer and colourful notices about special dishes handwritten on oddly shaped pieces of paper. The young Asian servers were in jeans and T-shirts, and the six young chefs wore baseball caps.
One of the servers tossed a menu at her that listed more than a hundred items, and that didn’t include the specials. She ordered a glass of Chardonnay, seaweed salad, red snapper carpaccio, and a sashimi platter with yellowfin tuna, surf clams, octopus, and salmon. That’s enough, she thought, until she saw that chawanmushi was on the menu. She couldn’t resist adding the steamed egg custard served with soy sauce, dashi, mirin, boiled shrimp, and shiitake mushrooms.
By seven o’clock she had finished her meal, which was truly exceptional. Ava called Au as she settled the bill; he promised to be there in ten minutes. With time to kill, she went into the Chinese bakery and bought two coconut buns for breakfast. As she descended the stairs she noticed a man wearing a black T-shirt and jeans standing off to one side in the shadows. His large head almost disappeared into his barrel-shaped, muscular chest. A steroid user, she thought as she passed.
As she neared the bottom of the stairs, the man began to edge after her. She turned left, towards the parking lot. Sensing that he was following her, Ava turned, just in time to see his right fist heading for her face. She moved her left foot back and swivelled out of the way, his fist gliding harmlessly past her chin. Before he could recoil, she drove the middle knuckle of her right hand into his ear. He screamed, staggered, and lurched sideways. Ava moved closer, the man’s nose her next target.
Then she hit the ground. Her legs had been swept from under her by a man wearing a white tracksuit and black boots. She looked up at his pale, fleshy face and manic eyes. He was aiming a kick at her head when she rolled away from him. Ava tried to leap to her feet, but the man caught her on the hip with his second kick, throwing her onto her other side. As she tried to move away, the man she had struck earlier jammed his boot into her ribs. She lifted her arm to protect her face, in the process exposing her ribs to another kick.
She was still struggling to get to her feet when she heard someone yell, “Cut that shit!”
She looked up at the two men standing over her. They were looking up at Gilbert Jackson, and another black man who was at least Jackson’s height and maybe fifty pounds heavier. They stood at the top of the stairs, their fists clenched at their sides. Ava’s two attackers ran to a car that was idling in the parking lot. She tried to get a read on the licence plate as they drove off, but it was just past dusk and she couldn’t make out the numbers.
“What the hell was that about?” Jackson asked when he reached her. “Are you okay? Can you move?”
Her ribs were aching, but Ava’s keenest pain was from humiliation. “I’ll live,” she said as she struggled to her feet.
“What did they want?” Jackson asked, his hand on her arm to steady her.
“I have no idea. They jumped me when I came down the stairs.”
“We need to call the police.”
“Forget it. It would just be a waste of time.”
“You can’t let them get away with this!”
“I don’t know who they are, and neither do you. What would we tell the police? That two guys with roid rage tried to rob or rape me? That description would fit a quarter of the men in Vegas… I’m fine.”
“We should get you to a hospital,” Jackson said, still holding her arm and looking down at her.
She winced. Her side was sore, but she knew there wasn’t much to be done for a bruised or broken rib except tape it. “No, I don’t need a hospital.”
“We’ll take you back to your hotel then. That’s the least we can do,” he said.
“No, that’s not necessary. I’d already called for a taxi,” she said. As if on cue, Au drove into the parking lot. “Look, thanks for the help. I really appreciate it, but I want to leave this thing alone. I’m leaving tomorrow anyway. I just want to put it behind me… But thank you,” she said, and squeezed Jackson’s arm.
Ava walked over to the cab. Au was standing beside it with a look of concern on his face. She knew what he was thinking. “Those two guys helped me,” she said. “I had a problem with two other men.”
Her hip hurt when she sat down. Despite what she had told Jackson, she contemplated going to a hospital or a walk-in clinic. Then she decided again that they wouldn’t do much more for her than she could do for herself. “Can you stop at a drugstore?” she asked.
Au drove a block south and then pulled into a strip mall. Ava bought two rolls of medical tape and extra-strength Tylenol. When they got back to Wynn’s, she asked Au to wait outside with the meter running and his phone turned on. “I may need you,” she said. He nodded.
Ava went directly to the poker room. There was no sign of Douglas. As she stood at the rail peering into the room, the host walked over to her. “David Douglas has left?” she asked.
“No more than five minutes ago. He left this note for you,” he said.
She read it as she walked to the elevator. I hope you enjoyed the visit from my friends. Those are two of the nicer ones. Stay away from me and you won’t have to worry about seeing them again.
She called Au from her room to tell him she’d be down soon. She was packed and checked out of Wynn’s in less than fifteen minutes.
“Where are we going? Airport?” Au asked as he threw her bags into the trunk.
“No, I’m staying. I just need to change hotels,” she said, easing gingerly into the back seat. “I need one that isn’t quite so mainstream.”
He peered at her in the rear-view mirror. “Miss, if you have a problem, I don’t mind helping. I have a house with a spare bedroom. And my wife won’t mind. It would give her a chance to speak Cantonese again.”
“That’s really kind, but it isn’t necessary. Can you suggest a hotel?”
“The Mandalay Bay is at the end of the Strip.”
“I don’t want to be on the Strip.”
“Near the Strip?”
“That would work.”
“There’s the Hooters Hotel across from the MGM, tucked in behind the Tropicana.”
“Take me there, please.”
By the time they were about two hundred metres from the hotel, Ava had booked a room for thirty-nine dollars a night under the name Jennie Kwong, one of her backups. She looked at the Hooters logo lit up in brilliant orange. The place advertised itself as Vegas’s discount hotel. That’s certainly truth in advertising, Ava thought as she got out of the cab.
Au got out and went to the trunk to take out her bags.
“I may need you in the morning. Could you keep it free for me?” she asked, slipping him a hundred-dollar bill.
He reached into his pocket for change. “No, that’s all for you,” she said.
“Okay. And thank you, Ms. Kwong… It is Ms. Kwong, right?”
“Call me Jennie,” Ava said. “And Au, if anyone asks where I am, you don’t know.”