“Is that Daniel Anderson asking or you?”

  “Me. Daniel seemed to know.”

  “Then you ask him,” Ava said, and then cut off the line.

  (43)

  Ava went directly to her bathroom to look at the cut. It was longer than she’d thought, maybe fifteen centimetres, but the wound was shallow. She washed her arm in cold water, smeared some Polysporin on it, and wrapped it tightly in gauze.

  She walked back into the room and sat on the bed to phone Uncle.

  “Did Ko call Li?”

  Andrew Hawkins had driven Leung’s hired killers from her mind. “Eventually,” she said.

  “Eventually? Did you have problems with them?”

  “None worth mentioning.”

  “Good. I am glad it is over.”

  “Li conveyed his apologies.”

  “I will thank him from my end. He is a useful man to keep close.”

  “You’ll be happy to know that Lily Simmons has decided she wants to keep close as well. They used her father’s executive assistant as the middle man. He says she’s prepared to execute the transfer.”

  “That is good news.”

  “But it isn’t done yet. I came to London needing just one signature, and after everything I’ve gone through, I still need that one signature. I’m not taking it for granted.”

  “Still, we see movement in the proper direction,” Uncle said, blunting his optimism.

  “I’m told we’re probably going to meet sometime later today at her lawyer’s office. They’ll want me to sign for our side. Will Ordonez have a problem with that?”

  “I cannot see him objecting.”

  “Well, let’s make sure of that. Before I go to the lawyer’s office I’d like something in writing from Manila that authorizes me to sign on behalf of the Ordonez Group, and that binds them to honour whatever I do sign with regard to this debt.”

  “What is involved?”

  “For starters, Roger Simmons wants me to say that I misinterpreted our conversation last night. That nothing was said that violated the terms of the blind trust. And that I invented the remarks he made about Asian businessmen.”

  “And he never said Tommy Ordonez was a piece of shit that cannot be shined?”

  “I guess I made that up too.”

  “What do you want me to get from Manila?”

  “You’d better make it a blanket authorization. Have them fax it to me here at the hotel. And then have someone on standby in Manila in case Simmons’s lawyer wants to call to confirm its authenticity.”

  “I will call Chang. He will be pleased.”

  “I’ll call you when everything’s wrapped up, Uncle.” Ava hung up the phone, then leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes. She was trying to calm herself by taking deep breaths and visualizing bak mai moves when her phone rang. An incoming call — mcintyre cullen appeared on the screen.

  “Ava Lee.”

  “This is Loretta Michaels, from McIntyre and Cullen. Is four thirty a suitable time for you to meet with Mr. McIntyre and Ms. Simmons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Our offices are just off Knightsbridge Road. The eighth floor, 88 Ford Street.”

  “Tell them I’ll be there.”

  Ava called her travel agent and asked her to book a seat on the eight-o’clock Air Canada flight from Heathrow to Pearson. One way or another, she had a feeling she was going to be on it.

  (44)

  At four fifteen Ava was downstairs with her luggage. As she was checking out, the concierge handed her a fax from Manila. She reviewed the document on the limo ride to Knightsbridge and then slipped it into her Chanel purse.

  She arrived five minutes early and was debating waiting in the car when she saw Lily Simmons approach the front doors of 88 Ford Street. She was wearing a black wool suit and carried a small black leather briefcase. Her hair was tangled and her shoulders slumped. Ava waited a few minutes before following her in.

  “Wait for me,” she said to the driver as she was getting out of the car. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  The lobby of McIntyre and Cullen was expansive. The white marble floor was complemented by a six-metre-long Persian rug. The dark wood-panelled walls showcased the rich forest green of the leather couches and chairs.

  “You must be Ms. Lee,” the receptionist said, not unkindly.

  “I am.”

  “They’re expecting you,” she said. “Let me take you in.”

  The boardroom was massive, its size accentuated by a nine-metre-long table with twenty red leather chairs. Sitting alone at the far end was Lily Simmons. She looked up at Ava. “They should be along in a minute,” she said.

  “Is your father coming?” Ava asked, taking a seat halfway between Simmons and the door.

  “No. Why would he?”

  Ava could see black shadows under her eyes, and her lips were chapped, or bitten. Her hands were on the table, the thumb of the right hand rubbing the palm of the left. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you,” Ava said.

  Simmons shrugged. “I just want to get this over with.”

  “Me too.”

  There was an awkward silence. Ava took a copy of the transfer request from her Chanel bag, and then, for good measure, a copy of Douglas and Ashton’s confession and the paperwork from Jack Maynard and Felix Hunter. They’re going to get their money back too, she thought as they came to mind for the first time since she had last talked to Maynard. How long ago had that been? Three days? A week? It felt like a month. It felt like another world away.

  Simmons was leafing through her own papers. A convenient distraction, Ava thought. Suddenly the woman raised her head and said, “There is something I’d like to say to you before the others arrive.”

  Ava twisted in her chair so she could face Simmons. “Go ahead.”

  “I listened to the message you left on my phone this morning.”

  “Yes.”

  “I have to say I found it completely perverted and twisted.”

  “I’m sorry if you think that.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not sorry about anything. First you try to drive a wedge between me and my fiance, and then you attempt to discredit my father and damage our relationship by suggesting he would do something so venal.”

  “Do you seriously think I was making it up?”

  “You’ve proven yourself capable of doing absolutely anything to get your way.”

  “Not to that extent.”

  “I don’t believe a word you say.”

  “You shouldn’t be so naive about the men in your life.”

  Simmons slammed her palm on the table. “You thought I’d sign that damn transfer if you could convince me that my father didn’t care whether or not you released those tapes. Well, here we are, and I’m going to sign it, all right, but only because he wants me to.”

  And for what reason? Ava wanted to ask, but bit back the question. Nothing positive could come from telling Lily Simmons something she didn’t want to hear.

  The boardroom door opened and a middle-aged man walked in with a young woman. He was tall and slim, and his silver mane contrasted nicely with his classic navy-blue pinstriped suit. The woman wore a soft cream suit that enhanced her dark skin and fashionably cut hair. “My name is McIntyre, and this is my associate Monique Hutton,” he said.

  Ava stood and shook hands with them. Simmons stayed seated. The lawyers sat next to Ava, McIntyre to her immediate left and Hutton next him. He took two files from his assistant and then said, “Lily, could you come closer, please.”

  Simmons sat stone-faced, grinding her teeth. Then she picked up the papers in front of her, and seated herself next to Hutton.

  McIntyre opened the first file. “I hope this is what you’re expecting to see, Ms. Lee,” he said. “We prepared it under the direction of Ms. Simmons, and she thinks it fairly reflects a discussion you had with Andrew Hawkins earlier today.” He passed her a three-page document. “Do you need some time alone with this?”

  “No,” Ava said, scanning the page.

  “And Ms. Simmons said that you see no need to employ legal counsel from your side.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And that you have the authority to bind the Ordonez Group.”

  “I do,” Ava said, opening her purse and taking out the fax she had received from Manila. “Here — this should be satisfactory. If you need to speak to a representative of the law firm in Manila, I have them on standby.”

  He scanned the fax. “No, this seems perfectly straightforward and clear. Have them courier the original for my records, if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly,” Ava said, and continued reading.

  The document laid out the details for transfer of the $65 million. The deal bound the Ordonez Group: its representatives could not so much as utter the words The River, Simmons, Ashton, or Douglas, let alone contemplate taking legal action against any of them. If they did, The River and its investors would be entitled to damages that far exceeded $65 million. It was familiar posturing, full of bluster that amounted to very little.

  Ava paused when she got to the last page of the document. She looked up at Simmons and her lawyers. “I didn’t discuss this with Mr. Hawkins,” she said.

  McIntyre cast an anxious look at Lily.

  “But it is what I discussed with Ms. Simmons when I first proposed a settlement, so it isn’t entirely unexpected or unreasonable,” Ava said slowly. She signed the document.

  “Excellent. And now this one,” McIntyre said, handing her a single piece of paper.

  She read the paper and then leaned forward so she could speak directly to Lily. “You’re pushing me to the limit with this.”

  Simmons turned her head towards Ava but didn’t look her in the eye. “We think it’s necessary.”

  “I don’t object to admitting that I may have misinterpreted your father’s remarks, but I have trouble signing a piece of paper that says I deliberately lied about what he said for my own selfish motives.”

  A heavy silence settled in the room. McIntyre tapped his pen against the back of his hand while his assistant stared at the wall.

  “Mr. McIntyre,” Simmons said, “you know my father. What do you think he would say about making changes to this document?”

  “He would be quite adamant about leaving the wording intact,” McIntyre said.

  Ava pushed it aside and handed a paper from her stack to McIntyre. “This is another copy of the letter authorizing transfer of the money from Cyprus to a Hong Kong bank account. I want it signed before I sign anything.”

  McIntyre took it from her, read it, and passed it to Simmons. “Ms. Lee, before Ms. Simmons signs, I have to ask you to confirm your intention to sign both documents that we’ve presented to you.”

  “I’ll sign.”

  “Then I will sign immediately after,” Simmons said.

  Simmons and Ava took turns signing five copies each of McIntyre’s documents, and then both McIntyre and Hutton witnessed them. Ava had them make three copies of the money transfer and then witness that the copies were of an original signed document. It was five o’clock when they finished.

  Ava took two sets of each document and slipped them into her bag. “The transfer request will be couriered to the bank in Cyprus tonight,” she said. “I hope no one will think they can interfere with the process.”

  “We have an agreement that benefits both parties, Ms. Lee,” McIntyre said. “It would be foolish, not to mention damaging, for anyone to do anything contrary to it.”

  Ava stood and extended her hand. As she did, her phone rang. She was about to turn it off when she saw the incoming number. “It’s the Prime Minister’s Office calling,” she said. “I’m afraid I have to take this.”

  McIntyre looked at Simmons. Her mouth was fixed in a tight smile.

  “Yes, I’ve had a much better day than yesterday,” Ava said, “and I want to thank you for your concern… No, Mr. Anderson, Mr. Simmons didn’t call, but Mr. Hawkins did and he was very helpful… Yes, we have resolved the issues between us, and I don’t think you’ll be hearing any more about this from our side… I’ll be sure to pass that along to President Arellano… Yes, I won’t hesitate to call you if the need arises.”

  She closed the phone and slipped it back into her Chanel purse. “Well, thanks for this.”

  Simmons looked at her lawyer. “Ms. Lee, just a reminder,” McIntyre said. “You’ve just signed a binding agreement. I’m not sure that conversations with the Prime Minister’s Office, however casual or uninitiated, are in anyone’s best interest.”

  “I agree completely. I think that might be worth reiterating to your clients as well, particularly the one who isn’t in this room.”

  (45)

  At ten after five Ava left the Ford Street office and climbed into the waiting limo. “Can you take me to Heathrow?” she asked.

  When they got to the international departures drop-off, Ava got her bags from the trunk, gave the driver a hundred-pound tip, and went directly to the Federal Express office to send the transfer request to the bank in Cyprus. As soon as she had the tracking number she called Hong Kong. It was just past one o’clock in the morning there, but she knew Uncle would be waiting.

  “It’s done.”

  “She signed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any complications?”

  “I almost lost my temper when they asked me to sign a document stating that I’d lied about what Simmons said about Ordonez.”

  “Did they change it?”

  “No. I signed it.”

  “You did not have to,” Uncle said.

  She knew he meant it. He never second-guessed her. That was part of the burden she carried — no matter how expedient she had to be, no matter what it cost them, even if she recovered nothing, he didn’t second-guess her.

  “Yes, I did have to. It was the cost of doing business. He’s probably sent it to the Prime Minister’s Office already.”

  “Not that that will do him any good; he already has a black mark next to his name. They may leave him where he is, but he is not going any further up the political ladder.”

  “I can only hope that’s the case.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m at Heathrow. I’ve just sent the transfer request via FedEx to the bank in Cyprus. I’ll give you the tracking number to pass along to our bank. Have them follow it from their end; they should call the Cypriot bank to make sure the money is moved as quickly as possible.”

  “I will look after it.”

  “Thank you. I leave here at eight o’clock. I’m looking forward to getting home.”

  “Ava, I know this was hard on you, doing two jobs back to back and then having Jackie Leung to deal with.”

  “Uncle, I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I just want to get home.”

  “There are times when you push yourself too hard.”

  Ava had already begun to feel the truth of that statement on the limo ride from Ford Street to Heathrow. At first she had felt a sense of relief that it was over and that she’d recovered her client’s money. But that feeling was quickly overtaken by bone-aching exhaustion. The adrenalin that had driven her from Hong Kong to the Philippines to San Francisco, Vancouver, Victoria, Las Vegas, and London now gave in to too many flights, too many time zones, too much stress. She hadn’t thought about those things when she was on the hunt because she wouldn’t let herself. The focus was on getting from A to B, connecting the dots, pushing and driving, putting together the pieces until the final one fell into place.

  “I did what I had to do,” she said.

  “I should call Chang,” Uncle said. “He will want to tell Ordonez about your success.”

  “Yes, you do that. I need to check in and make some calls too. Bye, Uncle.”

  She sat in the Star Alliance lounge with her notebook open on her lap. It was eleven o’clock in the morning in Las Vegas and Vancouver and two in the afternoon in Virginia and Cooper Island. She thought about calling David Douglas, Maggie Chew, Jack Maynard, Martin Littlefeather, and Chief Francis. She thought about it, but she didn’t. Tomorrow, she said to herself. Or maybe the day after.

  She went to the ladies’ washroom to change her clothes for the flight. In a cubicle with a full-length mirror, Ava stripped down to her underwear and looked at herself. The marks on her neck and shoulders had faded but the bruising on her hip and torso was a garish purple. She unwrapped the gauze on her arm and examined the cut. It had stopped bleeding, but she might need stitches. God, what a mess I am, she thought as she slipped a black Giordano T-shirt over her head.

  Back in the lounge, she turned on her computer and connected to her email server. She sent brief messages to her mother, Marian, and Mimi, telling them she’d be back in Toronto the next day. As she scanned her other emails she saw one from Maria Gonzalez, inviting her out for dinner and dancing.

  Dear Maria, she wrote, I’m looking forward to meeting you, but I think we should go for a coffee or something more casual. I’m flying back into Toronto tonight. We can discuss it in the next few days.

  Ava had gone through the rest of her emails and was about to shut down the computer when one arrived from Mimi. Dim sum tomorrow?

  Yes, Ava wrote back, just as a reply from Maria came through. What time does your flight arrive? she asked.

  Ava hesitated, then wrote, 10:30, Air Canada from London.

  Can I meet you at the airport? Maria wrote back a minute later.

  I look like hell and I ache all over, Ava replied.

  I’ll bring a hug.

  Am I ready for this? Ava wondered. Then she read over their correspondence again and smiled. I can use a hug, she wrote. See you there.

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: fbd-ce7efa-cefa-7643-beba-1ea5-cea0-c988db

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 02.03.2012

 

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