Ava’s cellphone rang at four thirty in the morning.
“I know it is probably too early to call,” Uncle said, “but I thought you would like to know that Felipe Arellano just left Ordonez’s office.”
“His office?”
“Yes. After he spoke to you he called Arellano. According to Chang, he went ballistic over the phone. Chang is not sure how much of it was acting and how much was real. Whatever, it was effective. Arellano, along with his full team, went to Ordonez’s office, and by the time Ordonez was finished with him, the President could hardly wait to contact London.”
“I thought he might be exaggerating about that relationship,” Ava said.
“Ordonez owns him.”
“So he said.”
“And what about Vice-Premier Tong?”
“That is a far more delicate arrangement. Even with all his money and investments, Ordonez is a minnow to Tong. Any help Ordonez wants from China will have to be carefully phrased and presented as a request for a favour. The good thing is that Tong loves his son more than anything, and he knows that his son’s success is tied to Ordonez. So he will listen to what Ordonez has to say, and if he can do anything to help — without putting himself at risk — he will probably do it.”
“So they haven’t spoken yet?”
“Yes, they have, but Chang was not there when they did, and he says Ordonez was not forthcoming with details.”
“Was he worried by that?”
“Not particularly.”
“So now we wait,” Ava said.
“Chang said that the British are to contact you directly if they need more information. He gave them your cell number, so keep it on.”
“I will.”
“Call me the moment you hear anything. I will keep my phone on as well,” Uncle said. “Ava, my instinct is that this thing will either move quickly or not at all. If you do not hear from anyone by mid- to late afternoon, you should start planning your trip home. We have exhausted our options. There is not much to be gained by spending time and money just spinning our wheels. We have the money you got from the men in Las Vegas. Everyone will have to be satisfied with that.”
“I agree.”
Ava tried to fall asleep again but her mind was racing. At five o’clock she heard a noise at the door and knew the newspapers had been delivered. She slid out of bed and dropped to her knees. For five minutes she prayed, asking St. Jude to look after her for one more day.
She got up and collected the Times and the Wall Street Journal at the door, made herself a Starbucks VIA Ready Brew, and pushed a chair towards the window. She opened the curtains and looked out onto High Street. The sidewalk and roads were wet, but the streetlights were now illuminating only a fine mist.
She read both papers from cover to cover, made herself two more coffees, and at six thirty turned on her computer. She returned to the web pages she’d been reading about Roger Simmons and watched the BBC interview one more time. He’s a man with ambition, she thought. The more she listened to him, the more hypocritical he sounded.
Ava stretched her arms over her head, yawned, and then yelped as pain coursed through her ribcage. She was still dressed only in panties and a T-shirt, and her legs felt chilled. She stood up and looked outside. The sun had finally emerged, the sidewalk was dry, and Kensington Gardens was lit up so brightly it looked as if the leaves on the trees had been polished. Ava went to the bathroom, washed, brushed her teeth and hair, and put on her running gear. She debated about putting her mobile in her pocket but decided not to.
She left the hotel, crossed Kensington High Street, and entered Hyde Park at the Alexandra Gate. She ran north across the Serpentine Bridge and continued to North Carriage Drive, where she turned east. She thought about Roger Simmons as she ran. A good run usually cleared her head, but the pathways were busy and she couldn’t get to full speed as she dodged in-line skaters and groups of walkers. Negative thoughts began to intrude. She became convinced that no one would call her, that Roger Simmons was going to get a free pass. In the light of day her late-night inspiration seemed more wishful thinking than cunning strategy. She sped along to Stanhope Palace Gate and then south through the heart of the park, to the pathway that ran along the south bank of the Serpentine. She ran as fast as she could, trying to burn off the negativity that gnawed at her.
She checked her cellphone as soon as she got back to the room. Nothing. She sat down at the computer and emailed her travel agent in Toronto, asking her to hold a seat on the day’s last flight from Heathrow to Pearson. I’ll give it the entire day, she thought as she headed for the bathroom and a shower.
Ava stripped and had just turned on the water when she thought she heard her phone ring. She considered running to the bedroom to answer it, but the sound died. Perhaps she had just imagined it.
When she came out of the bathroom, she put on a clean T-shirt and track pants and began thinking about where to have lunch. Moving towards the room phone to call the concierge, she noticed the message light blinking on her cellphone. A man named Anderson had left a number, asking her to call him back.
“Prime Minister’s Office,” a receptionist answered.
Ava drew a deep breath. God bless Tommy Ordonez, she thought. “My name is Ava Lee. Someone named Anderson left me a message and asked me to call him back.”
“That would be Daniel Anderson. I’ll put you through.” The line went silent for a few seconds.
“Ms. Lee, thank you for calling back.”
Ava heard paper rustling in the background. “Are you Daniel Anderson?”
“I am.”
“And am I on speaker phone?”
“Yes, you are.”
“And are there other people with you?”
“No, I was sorting through some papers, but I’m done now. Just a second,” he said. Ava heard him pick up the receiver. “So, thank you for calling back.”
“You’re welcome, although I’m not sure why you phoned me in the first place.”
“We understand you’re here in the U.K. on business.”
“Yes.”
“Has it been going well?”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“Ah. We were told the same thing — that there were some issues.”
“Mr. Anderson, who is we?”
“Ms. Lee, I think you should expect a phone call from Roger Simmons at some point during the day,” Anderson said, sliding around her question.
“I wish I shared your confidence.”
He hesitated. “Look, I don’t want to go into this any further than I already have. What I would like to do, sometime later today, is give you a bell to see how your day has progressed. Would you be amenable to that?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Excellent. Well, good luck to you then,” Anderson said and hung up.
It was close to midnight in Hong Kong. Ava phoned Uncle.
“I’ve just received a call from the British prime minister’s office and was told to expect Roger Simmons to contact me,” she blurted.
“We were told something like that might happen,” he said over the noise of dishes clattering in the background.
“By whom?”
“Arellano, and then by Tong as well. They both told Ordonez they had spoken to the Prime Minister, or at least someone senior in his office — you can never be sure with these people. In any event, the message got delivered.”
“And it seems that the Prime Minister, or someone in his office, has spoken to Simmons.”
“It seems that way.”
“That still doesn’t mean he’s going to give us what we want,” Ava said.
“No, but at least the door is open again. And we will find out what matters most to Simmons — his reputation and position as a minister of the Crown, or fighting lawsuits and negative publicity as a private citizen trying to hang on to stolen money.”
“Would they have made the choice that clear-cut?”
“Let’s hope it is in his mind, although I am sure that Arellano and Tong did not make it that blatant, and I am sure the Prime Minister did not make any promises. But they know each other and understand each other’s needs. Some things do not have to be said between men in high positions.”
“I was planning to fly to Toronto late tonight. I’m going to cancel.”
“Yes, you need to wait.”
Ava went over to the window. The sky was cloud-free, the sun shining brightly. As she looked down at the street she spotted the two men from the day before. They were standing on the sidewalk in front of Kensington Gardens, directly across the street from the hotel. Even from that distance she could make out the one with the mohawk.
“Uncle, I think Jackie Leung’s men are here,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“I saw two men last night, and now they’re back. They’re outside my hotel, facing the entrance.”
“The contract has been cancelled,” Uncle said.
It was Ava’s turn to be surprised. “What?”
“Jackie Leung is dead.”
“When?”
“Sonny caught up with him tonight. Leung fell into Victoria Harbour. It turns out he could not swim.”
“And the contract?”
“Cancelled as of fifteen minutes ago. I had just finished talking to Guangzhou when you called.”
“No one seems to have told the two guys outside my hotel.”
“There has not been much time.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Uncle paused. “Describe the men to me.”
She did, emphasizing the mohawk and the earrings.
“It sounds like it could be them. I will call Guangzhou on my other phone to confirm.”
She tried to listen but his conversation was muffled. When he came back on the phone, the first thing Ava heard was a heavy sigh. “It is definitely them. The one with the earrings is the leader; his name is Ko. Guangzhou has been trying to contact them. They tell me their mobile phones are off.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Write down this phone number,” he said. “It is the number of the boss in Guangzhou. His name is Li. He is waiting by his phone now and will not leave until he hears from them. He suggests that you go outside and talk to them. Tell them the contract is cancelled and they need to talk to Li.”
She was still standing by the window looking down at them. Their raincoats were buttoned, and she knew that beneath the folds, probably tucked into their belts, they were carrying weapons. She could only hope they were knives or machetes and not guns.
“Okay, I guess I can’t stay in my room all day waiting for them to turn on their phones,” she said. “I’ll go downstairs and talk to them.”
“Call me back as soon as you are finished,” he said.