The Profit Motive, page 10
part #2 of Sterling and Mason Series
“It could be one of a dozen people in the company, but… you don’t think—?”
“No.” The last thing she wanted were rumours of a saboteur in the company. “Remember the cyber-attack last month. Could someone have got through?”
“Nothing’s impossible. I’ll run checks on the system.”
“Let me know what you find.” Kate ended the call. She felt sick. Stefan wouldn’t find evidence of a cyber-attack. Someone inside H & T had deleted the message, and she had to find out whom. Did it have anything to do with the attack on Oliver? She felt very alone.
Exhausted by the day’s events, Kate left work earlier than usual. The thrumming of the taxi engine had an hypnotic effect as it carried her homeward.
“You going to answer it, then?” the driver demanded.
The phone vibrated in her hand. She checked the number: a UK landline she didn’t recognise. Relief washed over her as she answered it. At least it wasn’t more bad news from China.
“Ms Hetherington. My name’s Zoe Leeson and I am TravelMed’s director of operations in the Far East.”
“You’ve collected Dad?” Tension flowed out of Kate.
“First, let me say how sorry we are about your father. One of our field operatives has carried out an assessment of Mr Hetherington’s condition and it is our opinion we shouldn’t move him.”
“What do you mean?” Her relief evaporated.
“To move him now would exacerbate his condition and we recommend—”
“I don’t want your recommendations, I want him brought home.”
“I understand, madam.”
Leeson’s honeyed tones increased Kate’s irritation. “So when will you be flying him home?”
“Our medical opinion is it’s best to leave him where he is. We will, of course, cover the cost of treatment.”
“Bugger the cost. I want him brought home.”
“As I said, I do understand, but we have to consider the needs of the patient—”
“And the cost of flying him back. Well, don’t worry, we’ll pay those.”
“It’s not a matter of money. If we thought he’d be better off being moved we’d do it, but he’s in the top facility in Wenzhou. There are inevitable hazards to moving someone as ill as he is and it will not be in his best interests.”
“We’ve used your company for many years,” Kate said. “And we put a lot of business through you. I’d hate to look elsewhere.”
Leeson remained silent for a few seconds. “I’m sorry you feel like that, Ms Hetherington. You will, of course, do what you think’s best, as will we.”
Kate ended the call. Tears dripped off her chin, and she sniffled. She’d handled it badly.
“That’s nineteen quid,” the driver said.
“Here.” She thrust a twenty at him. “I want a receipt and my change.”
He gave her both with bad grace and she let herself into the building, relieved not to encounter any fellow residents. Her limbs trembled and she thought she’d burst into tears at any moment. The hope she’d be able to bring Oliver home had grown until it became a fact. Now it wasn’t happening she didn’t know what to do.
She let herself into the flat and, slipping her shoes off, headed for the bathroom to splash water onto her face. The cold liquid revived her, and she stared into the mirror. A wild and fearful version of her stared back. Don’t go to pieces now, Kate.
She’d get a large glass of wine and have a bath before making any decisions. As she filled her glass, she realised she hadn’t told Simon or Abigail the news. She retrieved Simon’s number, trying to remember when she’d last used it. But what would she say? Dad’s in hospital in China and someone’s trying to kill him. She’d ring once she’d acted to ensure his safety. But what was she going to do? In the past, if she wasn’t sure of anything, she’d talk to Oliver. My God, I literally don’t know what to do.
She drained the glass and reached for the bottle, but stopped. Getting drunk wouldn’t help. She considered her options. If she couldn’t get Oliver out she needed to protect him. Adam had suggested a security company. He’d seemed so in control, like he knew all the answers. The short period in his uncle’s office had been the only time since this started she’d not been in a funk. She dialled his number, but killed the call before it rang. He’d said he’d ring once Sammy had spoken to the policeman. The fact he’d not suggested he’d had second thoughts. Anyway, she wouldn’t go crawling to a man.
She refilled her glass, took a sip and, realising she was starving, made two slices of toast. When she’d finished them she dialled Adam’s number again. She’d play it cool, ask him to recommend a security— what was that? She listened. The noise came from the spare room. Someone was in there. The fear and uncertainty that had infused her all day evaporated as rage flooded her with adrenaline. She dropped the phone and snatched up a knife from the block on the counter.
“I’ve called the police whoever you are,” she shouted and barged through the door.
Heart pounding, she flicked on the light and stood in the doorway. The room was as she’d left it, king-sized bed flanked by cabinets against the far wall and her desk in front of the window. She examined her surroundings. Nothing seemed different since she’d last been in here. Except the door to the walk-in wardrobe. She’d left it closed. Her gaze swung back to the desk. Her laptop, she’d left it on the desk. Someone must be in the wardrobe. Careful not to make a noise, she made her way to the open cupboard. She laid down the knife and picked up the chair beside the wardrobe.
She slammed the door and wedged the chair under the handle. “Got you, you bastard!”
Movement came from her left. The door to the en-suite flew open and a masked figure dressed in black shot out. She reached for the knife but the intruder barged into her, knocking her backward.
She landed on the floor, winded, and the figure jumped on her. A forearm slammed into her throat, making her gag. Then he sat astride her. She lay on her back, her upper torso pinned by his weight. The stink of stale sweat and alcohol filled her nostrils.
Panicking, she flailed her arms and swung at his head. Her hand hit something wet. His eyes? She plunged her fingers forward.
“Aargh, you bitch!”
The attacker reared back, freeing her torso. She slashed at his face again but he swayed out of range, getting to his feet. She lashed out with her foot, catching him a satisfyingly solid blow between the legs. With a roar of rage and pain, he fell back.
She pushed off the floor and, ignoring the agony in her knee, struggled to her feet. The figure crouched in front of her, one hand clutching his groin, the other his eyes. She kicked him on the jaw but her knee gave way and she fell against the wall. Massaging her throat and panting with exertion and fear, she glanced at the intruder.
He lay still, face down, the knife beside him. Without taking her gaze from him, she retrieved it and stepped away. She turned and limped toward the door. A sound made her stop. Before she could turn back, a hand grabbed her ankle and pulled. Arms flailing, she crashed against the doorframe. Then blackness.
CHAPTER 15
Wenzhou City, Zhejiang Province, China
Tang nosed her car into a space and killed the ignition. The engine threatened to fire up again before rattling and dying. She sat for a few moments, reliving the ordeal from the previous night.
Icy water engulfed her, cutting off her scream. Relief she’d not smashed her body on the concrete below lasted an instant, replaced by panic as she tried to determine the way to the surface. Her limbs thrashed, then, as she felt her lungs would burst, her head emerged. She gulped a mixture of liquid and air into her mouth. The foul taste made her gag and she spluttered. Her flailing legs searched for the bottom but found nothing. She bobbed in the water, paddling with her arms, leaning back to keep her nose and mouth away from the disgusting liquid. Her eyes cleared and voices chattered nearby.
“Help!” The feeble shout echoed and she shouted again, louder.
The babbling stopped and a torch came on above her, behind it three heads. “I told you I heard someone in there,” a triumphant voice said.
The beam swung into her face, blinding her. “Point it away, you idiot.”
“Who you calling idiot? I’m not the one swimming in a cess-pit.”
“Help me out.”
The torch swung away and she could now see the side. A sheer wall about three metres high bounded the canal. Tang peered into the gloom, searching for a ladder.
“What are you doing in there anyway?” one of the others asked.
“Someone threw me in.”
“There’s nobody else here.”
“From up there.” She pointed to the metal latticework of the fire escape. It looked a long way.
The man whistled. “Lucky the canal’s here.”
Tang saw nothing lucky in drowning while these idiots interrogated her. “Lower a ladder?”
“You need to learn manners, young woman,” the one with the torch said.
“Just get me out of here. I’m a policewoman.”
Silence greeted this and the torch disappeared. The three men whispered together then silence again. Probably thought she was lying. It was bad enough getting people to believe her when she showed her police ID.
“Hello.” She listened. “Are you still there?”
Panic surged and she struck out for the bank, hoping to find crevices in the wall she could use to haul himself out. Her clumsy strokes splashed her face and she clamped her lips shut, determined not to swallow any more of the foul liquid. She touched the side and reached up in the darkness, hampered by the weight of her clothes. The slimy wall offered nothing to hold on to.
She cursed the three men and moved along the wall, hoping to find a hand- or foot-hold as her teeth chattered. A shout came from above.
“Look out!”
An object landed near her head, splashing her. The torch shone into her eyes. She squinted, a rope swung in front of her.
“Grab hold, young woman, and we’ll pull you out.”
She reached out for the line swinging toward her, catching it at the second attempt. They’d tied a loop on the end which she passed over her shoulders and under her arms.
“Okay, pull.”
“After three,” the man with the torch shouted.
The loop tightened round Tang’s chest and she rose out of the water. She tried to help, using her hands and feet on the wall as the rope bit into her chest. By the time she reached the top, it was crushing her ribs. The idiots had used a slip knot. Hands reached down and fingers hooked under her armpits. Then she lay on the side, coughing and spluttering.
“Okay, young woman?” the one with the torch said.
Tang rose to her knees and loosened the rope, sliding it over her head. She knelt in a puddle of evil-smelling liquid but she’d already ruined her suit.
“Yes, thank you. If you hadn’t come… Thank you.”
The assault replayed in her mind. The man who’d attacked her wasn’t exhausted. He’d slowed down to let Tang catch up. Acid burned her throat and she could do nothing to stop the surge of vomit.
The recollection made her tremble. Dismissing it, she got out, locked the door and headed toward the apartment building she’d run into last night. Made of concrete, with mismatched panels of coloured tiles stuck on the façade, it would have depressed her even without the events of last night. She’d not told Feng what had happened here. It would only reinforce his already enthusiastic disapproval of her chosen career.
She stopped and stared, reluctant to go back inside. An angry shout from an old man pushing a handcart laden with vegetables roused her and she leaped out of the way. She’d better get on with it. Inside the main door, the spicy aroma of Szechwan food enveloped her, hiding the stink of stale urine. A small window above the front door allowed little light but, once her sight adjusted, she could see well enough. Nobody responded at the first two doors she knocked on and the old woman who answered the third seemed both deaf and blind, peering at her through dirty glasses which distorted her eyes. Although she’d heard and seen nothing, she kept talking and Tang didn’t have the heart to cut her off.
Eventually, she escaped and climbed the stairs to the next floor, the memory of doing so a few hours ago making her uneasy. The man who came to the first door had heard something but Tang’s excitement evaporated when it turned out the man had been woken by her exchange with the men who’d rescued her.
She noted the names of everyone who lived in the apartment. She’d check it against the list they’d requested from the building’s owners. An hour later, she’d questioned seven more people, her despondency growing with each unsuccessful interview. None of them had seen anything before the clamour caused by her ending up in the canal. She had only the top floor left. She paused on the landing and wiped the sweat off her brow. Sounds of traffic wafted in through an open window above the stairs but no air moved. A young woman with a small child on her hip answered the first door. She looked exhausted.
“No, I slept through it all.” She jiggled the chubby infant. “His Lordship is teething so if he ever sleeps I’m right behind him and then nothing wakes me.” A smile lit up her face. “Do you want tea?”
“Thank you, but I need to finish.” Tang gestured down the corridor.
The woman looked her in the eye. “If you don’t want tea, I’ve got other...” She pressed the tops of her arms together and giggled. “Refreshments.”
Tang’s cheeks grew hot and she hurried to the next door. She felt the young woman’s attention on her until she closed the door with another giggle as Tang knocked on her neighbour’s door. She’d heard of women who liked other women but didn’t often come across them. Her mind stayed on the young mother as she waited outside the final apartment, the one by the fire exit. Its proximity made her uneasy.
“Yes, young man?” A woman of about fifty stood in the doorway, her hair streaked with grey.
“Police,” Tang introduced herself, waiting for the look of incredulity.
“Sorry.” The woman’s cheeks flushed and she pushed the door wider. A man of similar age appeared behind her. “My husband,” she said.
“You here about last night?” he said.
Tang nodded. “Did you see anything?”
“Somebody fell—”
“Before then.” If she heard one more person describe how they watched her being pulled out of the water…
“No.” The man sounded disappointed.
“What about you?” Tang asked the woman.
“Someone ran past our door. I told him but he didn’t believe me.”
“What time?” Tang couldn’t hide her excitement.
“Just before all the fuss outside.”
“Did you see who it was?”
“Sorry.”
Tang swallowed in frustration. “Anything else you can tell me?”
“I saw the wastrel who—”
“She doesn’t want to hear about him,” her husband said.
“Who did you see?” Tang said.
“The man… do you know his name?” she asked her husband who shrugged. “I’ll remember it…”
“What was he doing?” Tang wasn’t sure if there was a point to this.
“Skulking in the shadows at the bottom of the fire escape, watching the man in the water.”
“How do you know him?” The surge of excitement made Tang’s voice sharp.
“He used to visit the girl in the end flat but, once the baby arrived, you didn’t see him for—”
“Thank you.” Tang’s pulse raced as she headed back to the first flat.
The young woman opened the door, minus the baby, but with a big grin. “Changed your mind?”
“Your boyfriend. What’s his name?” The woman looked confused. “The baby’s father.”
Her expression changed. “That rat, he can go to hell.”
“If you tell me his name, I’ll do my best to send him there.”
“You wouldn’t be the first to try. His name’s Zhang.”
“Just Zhang?”
The woman looked embarrassed. “Sorry. He never told me.” She explained Zhang had never let her get close to him.
“Okay.” Tang tried to hide her disappointment. “Can you give me a description?”
“Would a photo help?” The woman disappeared, returning with a picture in a frame.
Dust coated the back of the frame. The photo, taken at the entrance of a fancy restaurant, showed her looking up at a much taller man who stared into the camera.
“He’s good looking, but cruel. The heart of a devil,” the woman said with feeling. “Put me off men for life.”
Even though Zhang smiled in the picture, Tang didn’t doubt his cruelty. “Can I borrow it?”
The woman took the frame off her, dismantled it and produced a copy from the back. “Keep it.”
“Thank you.”
“Sergeant,” the woman called. “You’re always welcome if you change your mind about the tea.”
Tang laughed and set off down the stairs, full of energy. Not only did she have a name, but she had a photo of the killer.
Jie yawned and stretched. His muscles ached and his eyes stung. A thick haze of blue smoke hung over his desk and the mound of stubs in his ashtray bore witness to his failure to reduce his tobacco consumption. Tomorrow, he’d definitely cut down, now he just needed to get home. His wife hadn’t been too happy when he told her he’d be late again, reminding him her father was coming to stay, as if he’d forget that torment. He wanted this case to drag on until the miserable old so-and-so left.
He’d just got into his jacket when the door opened and Tang burst in. “Sorry to barge in, sir, but I’ve found the killer.”
He slumped back into his chair, so much for the case dragging on. “Well, sergeant, take a seat and tell me.” He suspected Tang was exaggerating.
“The man’s name is Zhang. He had a… relationship with one of the residents.”
Jie pulled a cigarette out of the pack. “Do you have another name?”
Tang shook her head but placed a photo on the desk.
