The Profit Motive, page 2
part #2 of Sterling and Mason Series
“I forgot, sir,” the taxi driver said, unable to meet his gaze.
Jie glared at him but, before he could speak, the sergeant said, “Sorry, sir, I’ll make him regret lying—”
“No need.” Jie felt a pang of sympathy. He didn’t blame the driver not wanting to get involved, losing a night’s work while the police made him complete reams of paperwork. The driver had no more information than the Europeans, so Jie dismissed him and re-joined Tang. The irritation in his gut since receiving the call had developed into a full blown attack of acid. This would be a dog of a case.
Jie and Tang walked the short distance to the Imperial Hotel in silence. Jie wondered if he’d have time to go home and catch a couple of hours before he had to go to the office. The receptionist, a young woman wearing a smart black suit, stiffened when they introduced themselves, her professional smile freezing.
“Can we speak to the manager?” Tang demanded as Jie lit a cigarette.
The receptionist made a panicky call on an internal phone, her gaze straying to the two officers as she spoke. Jie smiled at her but the gesture increased her agitation so he stopped.
A few minutes later, another young woman clacked into the foyer and introduced herself as the night manager. She couldn’t answer their questions and asked them to wait for the general manager.
Jie sighed. That’s the trouble with this country, too many managers and all scared to make decisions. The woman led them to the bar and offered tea or coffee. Jie accepted a coffee and took a seat, leaning forward to stub his cigarette out in an ornate ashtray on the dark wood coffee table. Tang sat across from him and leaned back to avoid the cloud of smoke emanating from the smouldering tobacco. Her white shirt glowed under the bright lights and Jie couldn’t help contrasting it with his own, covered in assorted food stains.
The lobby of the Imperial was almost empty: only a few staff and the occasional guests returning from a late night. A small man, wearing a tailored suit and cravat, charged in through the doors. Unlike the guests, most of whom looked like they’d been celebrating, he wore an irritated expression. The night manager stopped pacing in front of the desk and intercepted him, gesticulating towards Jie and Tang as she spoke. The newcomer pasted on a smile and marched up the steps to where the two officers waited.
He approached Tang and enquired, “Senior Inspector Jie?”
Jie replied, “That’s me.” The man stepped back, embarrassed by his mistake, and Jie rose to his feet. Although not tall, he towered over the newcomer. “This is Sergeant Tang.”
The small man did a double-take. Tang’s height, habit of wearing manly suits and of keeping her hair short meant people mistook her for a man on first meeting; especially as they always assumed police would be male. The man recovered and stuck out his right hand, supporting the forearm with his left hand. “Gong Meng,” he introduced himself.
“You know why we’re here?” Jie asked.
“My assistant said one of our guests has been hurt in a motor accident. It’s very sad but I don’t know how I can help.” He made a gesture of helplessness with his hands.
“We need to search the gentleman’s room.”
“Of course. We’re always happy to help the police.” He shouted to the receptionist, demanding the key. The girl whispered to the night manager who scurried to them.
“Sorry, sir, Mr Oliver took the room key.”
“You have a master key?” Jie said, feeling the stirrings of unease. They hadn’t found a key at the scene but there might be another explanation. He hoped so.
The two managers accompanied them to the bank of lifts and Jie lit another cigarette as they waited, ignoring the disapproving sniff from Tang. In the lift, he regarded the sorry-looking version of himself reflected by the mirrored walls. He’d combed his sparse hair with his fingers, and it showed. He patted it down, but to no effect, and he focused on the case. Was there a connection between the missing room key and the mobile? No point in worrying; he’d wait to see what a search of the room revealed.
The manager used his pass key to unlock the door to the European’s room and, after pushing it open, moved aside to let the officers enter. Jie walked in first and scanned the room. The smell of floral air-freshener mingled with furniture polish. He promised himself he’d take his wife to stay in a room like this for their twenty-fifth anniversary in a few months. The chambermaid had turned the bed down and there was a small bar of chocolate wrapped in gold foil on the pillow. A black suitcase lay open on a stand with items of clothing around it in an untidy heap, in stark contrast to the rest of the room.
“Check the wardrobe,” Jie said to Tang while he examined the case. Apart from a few items on the floor, it looked ready to go.
“Just one change of clothing, sir.”
This confirmed the email. The man planned to leave in the morning. “Is there a laptop?”
Tang closed the wardrobe door and wandered over to a desk in front of the window. “No, sir.”
“The gentleman had a laptop,” the night manager volunteered. “I remember because I offered him a room with a PC but he said he just needed a Wi-Fi connection for his laptop.” She kept her head bowed.
“Where did he keep it?” Jie asked.
The night manager’s forehead wrinkled. “Shall I fetch the maid?”
Jie nodded and went to take another drag on the cigarette, but he’d finished it and he searched for an ashtray. By the time he’d found the bin, the night manager had returned, accompanied by a young woman. Stocky, with a round face and greasy skin, she wore a shapeless work outfit. Her humble demeanour marked her out as one of the many peasants who carried out low-paid menial jobs in these establishments.
Jie signalled to Tang to take over, and wandered over to the window to light another cigarette.
“We didn’t find his laptop,” Tang said. “Where did he keep it?”
The chambermaid appeared panicked by her question and stared at the manager who said, “She doesn’t speak Mandarin,” before repeating the question in Feng dialect.
The chambermaid spoke so quietly Jie had trouble hearing her. “He kept it at the desk.” She pointed. “In a multi-coloured satchel, but I can’t see it.”
“Was his case like this when you checked the room?” Jie asked in the same language.
She shook her head.
Jie exchanged a glance with Tang but let her conclude the questioning.
Once she’d finished, Meng said, “Will Mr Oliver be checking out later today? We’re fully booked tonight.”
“We’ll tell you when you can use the room. Now leave us,” Tang said.
When the hotel staff left, Jie said, “It was a reasonable question. We are an inconvenience and he’s simply doing his job.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Sometimes Tang acted harshly because she didn’t want people to take her lightly. Jie stared out of the window, trying not to let unwelcome theories about the case solidify. He could just make out the lights from the river through the forest of offices and apartment blocks springing up almost daily.
“Do you think his laptop going missing has anything to do with his accident?” Tang said, voicing one of those theories.
“How could it?” Jie replied, irritated by Tang and not wanting to follow that road. “It was an accident, by its very nature unpredictable. One of the light-fingered hotel staff has probably taken it, already sold it down Wuma Street.”
“It seems a coincidence…”
“Maybe someone helped themselves when they knew he wasn’t coming back, hoping it wouldn’t be missed.”
“How could anyone know he wasn’t coming— ?”
“Both the girl at reception and the assistant manager knew. They could have told anyone while we waited in the bar.”
“Right, sir, I’ll get them both taken in and questioned.” Tang marched toward the door.
“Wait.” Jie sighed. “You’re right. Whoever took his phone must have come here and taken the laptop.” He sighed again and walked to the bin, preparing to extinguish the cigarette. “Why didn’t he lock it in the safe? It would have made our job a lot easier. Let’s keep an open mind. An opportunist thief could still have stolen it. Get the description of the bag circulated. It should be easy to spot if anyone tries to sell it.”
He used the stub to light another cigarette and returned to the window, deep in thought. He hoped they'd locate the laptop and phone quickly so he could complete his report and finish this. A foreigner being badly injured gave him a big enough problem without any added complications. And if he died? Jie shuddered and closed his eyes.
Tang ended her call to headquarters and joined him at the window. “They’ll keep a watch of the usual suspects. Do you want me to speak to the consulate?”
“No, I’ll deal with them.”
“I don’t mind.”
Tang had excellent English, much better than his, and she liked to use it at every opportunity, but Jie was senior officer. “Get the room checked for fingerprints. Concentrate on the man’s suitcase.”
“What about his belongings? Shall I get them taken to the station?”
“They’ll be safer here,” Jie said. “Tell the manager to store them until the man recovers...” Or doesn’t. He left the room, hoping this would not become an even bigger headache.
CHAPTER 3
London
The scruffy pub, down a back street in Borehamwood, wasn’t somewhere Byron Mason would associate with his brother-in-law. He and Louisa usually met Theo and his wife in stylish wine bars or restaurants. It reminded Byron of pubs he’d frequented in his youth, but for one important difference. The warm evening had lured drinkers out into what passed for a beer garden in front of the ancient building. Groups of lads, wearing jeans and short-sleeved shirts, mingled with girls in skimpy outfits. They occupied four sets of benches on the square of brown grass beside the entrance.
A few glanced at Byron as he strode between them, but he was used to that. Even outside, tobacco smoke mixed with the overpowering scent favoured by the youngsters, caught his throat. It would be worse inside. He had to duck to get in the door and the proximity of the ceiling to the top of his head made him claustrophobic. Byron identified the smarter lounge bar and ducked into it. Quieter than the public bar, it still teemed and, in the gloom, he took a few moments to spot Theo.
Theo had already seen him and waved from a small table in the corner. Byron mimed a drink and Theo gestured with his bottle. Byron edged his way to the bar, taking a detour round a group of four hard-faced men sat on stools. Older than the other drinkers, who gave them a wide berth, they ignored his “excuse me”. He waited in the queue at the bar but, when it came to his turn, the barmaid served the man behind him.
“I’m next,” Byron said.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you. I’ll get to you in a sec.” She showed her teeth in an insincere smile.
Yeah, sure, I’m six five and eighteen stone and the only black guy here and you didn’t see me. A reminder the most cosmopolitan city in the UK wasn’t uniformly accepting. While he waited, the sensation of being watched, a feeling he’d learned not to ignore, made his neck itch. One of the hard-faced men, a concrete block of a man with his right ear lobe missing, stared at him. Byron wasn’t in the mood and ignored him. After waiting an age for the barmaid to serve the other punter, Byron got his drinks and made his way to Theo. Louisa’s brother looked shrunken, hunched on a stool.
“Thanks, Byron.” He took the bottle of lager.
Byron sat on the other stool, relieved to drop below the smoke layer. “What happened to your eye?”
Theo swallowed from the bottle. Apart from his left eye being blacked, dark smudges discoloured the pale skin under both.
“Not your usual haunt.” Byron waved a hand at his surroundings when Theo didn’t answer.
“No.” Theo gave a nervous laugh.
Byron took the top off his pint and waited for Theo to say his piece. Although they got on well enough, the call asking to meet for a drink had surprised Byron and the Theo facing him wasn’t the confident professional he knew.
Theo cleared his throat and, staring at the bottle he held in both hands, started. “I’ve got myself into a bit of trouble. You know I play squash. After a game, we usually go for a couple of drinks. Well, a few months ago, we started going back to one of the other guy’s flats afterwards and…” He took a deep breath.
“God! You’re not having an affair?” Louisa liked her brother’s wife and his infidelity would devastate her.
“No!” Theo said, affronted. “No, but we played cards, and I had a run of bad luck.”
“How much?”
Theo jerked as if Byron had slapped him. “Two hundred.”
“Grand?”
He nodded.
“Bloody hell. What were you playing?”
“Five-card draw.” Theo’s cheeks filled with blood. “Like I say, I had a bad run.”
Draw was a beginner’s game, and Byron had seen novices lured into big losses, but nowhere near this much. Even round here it could buy you a three-bed semi. He did a quick calculation. After a hairy six months, his business was doing okay but he couldn’t afford to lend Theo such a large sum. Anyway, with his architect’s practice, Theo had more money than they did.
“I presume you played your mates from the squash club. How many do you owe?”
“Just the one.”
“You’ve discussed it with him?”
“Hmm.”
“And?”
“He... he wants the money.” Theo’s hand flew to his injured eye.
“He did that?”
Theo took another swig of his drink. He glanced behind Byron and his eyes widened. Byron sensed the newcomer. A young man of average build and about five ten stood beside Byron.
“All right, Theo, how you doing? You got it with you?” The man’s estuary accent evoked Prime Minister Blair’s. He affected to notice Byron. “Who’s your mate?”
“Marcus. This is Byron, my... a friend.”
Marcus offered a hand. “Pleased to meet you. Welcome to our pub.” He jerked his thumb towards the hard-faced group. The four men didn’t hide the fact their attention focussed on Byron and Theo.
Byron put the pieces together. Time they got out. “Nice to meet you, Marcus.” He gripped the offered hand and stood in a smooth motion, towering over the younger man who took a half-step back. “Ready to go, Theo?”
“Err… yeah, sure.”
The group of men struggled to their feet. Bulky and older than Byron, they still looked like they’d be a handful, but only if they caught up with him first. The hubbub in the pub died. Theo’s stool scraped on the wooden floor as he stood. Making sure he followed, Byron strode towards the exit.
Grabbing Theo by the elbow, he said, “Where’s your car?”
“In the car park, at the back.”
Byron had left his in a side street. They’d come back for it. “Lead the way. And hurry.”
Dusk had fallen. Nobody followed them out, but Byron still felt uneasy. They rounded the side of the pub and entered the car park. Theo’s car sat in a space behind the bin enclosure and the hazard lights flashed as he operated the remote. A door crashed open — the fire exit at the rear. Two of the men charged out. Theo froze.
“Get the car.” Byron pushed him toward it.
A pair of dumpsters stood in the enclosure, lids bulging. Byron grabbed the nearest and, with a roar, shoved it at the fire exit. The two men stopped and fought to get out of the way. One fell, and the bin caught his ankle, tipping over the back of the other and releasing an evil stench. More figures appeared in the doorway.
Byron glanced at the car. Theo still hadn’t started it. He grabbed the other bin, rammed it toward the first one and charged to the car. If Theo didn’t get it going, they’d have to run. As he drew level, the lights flared on and the engine roared. Byron leaped into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Tyres squealed and the powerful BMW surged forward, past a blur of angry faces.
Byron waited until Theo had driven well away from the housing estate the pub served. “What the hell was all that about?”
“I don’t know, Byron. I’ve never known Marcus to—”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
Theo blinked rapidly and pulled into a lay-by, taking his time. “Marcus did this after squash on Tuesday.” He indicated his black eye, before explaining what had happened.
Theo hadn’t wanted to go for a drink but the others talked him into it. He sat in the corner, nursing a glass of orange. Marcus slid into the seat next to him. “Right, Theo, time to cough up. I need the rest of the money you owe me.”
Theo couldn’t meet his gaze. “I haven’t got that sort of money.”
“I’ve seen your house, mate, and you ain’t got a mortgage, have you?”
“It was my parents’ house; half belongs to my sister.”
“Not my problem, mate.”
The others moved away, embarrassed at his humiliation. “I can give you some of it.”
“How much?”
“Another five.”
Marcus laughed.
“Ten. It’s all I can afford.”
“Piss off!” Marcus grabbed Theo by the collar.
The others jumped up and separated them. They sat in awkward silence for a few moments until half-hearted conversation resumed, but the atmosphere remained poisoned and, making their excuses, they drifted off. Theo left last, and wandered into the car park, brooding over what he could do to get Marcus off his back.
The punch came out of nowhere and caught Theo below his left eye, knocking his head into the wall behind. Marcus grabbed his collar again and breathed into his ear. “Fifty, by the weekend. Bring it to my old man’s place Sunday evening.” He pushed Theo into the brickwork and left, whistling.
Byron studied the car that slowed as it passed them, relaxing when it sped off. “How much have you paid him so far?” The sneaky way Theo had lured him to the pub tempered any sympathy for him.
“I gave him five a couple of weeks ago.”
