Deception Page 10

  ‘Better. Not jiggling now.’ Brushing his hands on his jeans, he straightened. ‘It’s funny you should arrive today. I heard a rumour this morning—’ He shook his head. ‘No, it’s too ridiculous. Forget it.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘If you think so. It might be useful for me to know …’ I spoke cautiously. The Xings were not ones for spreading gossip and I’d like to hear what they had picked up.

  ‘Is your father alright?’ Xing FuRui glanced at my full cup, as if looking for an excuse to hurry off and fill it up.

  ‘He’s travelling at the moment,’ I said neutrally. ‘I haven’t heard from him in some time.’

  ‘Oh. You may want to check his whereabouts. It was mentioned to me that he was in Myanmar, Mandalay province, and the rumour was that he was held against his will. Unable to leave. I thought it curious.’

  I nodded. ‘That is curious. I’ll contact him today and see if anything is wrong. Thank you for telling me.’

  Myanmar? It took all of my self-control to not show any emotion. Is that where Dad had ended up?

  ‘An English businessman was mentioned as well. But I don’t have a name, I’m afraid.’

  My heart leapt. Was this ‘businessman’ behind my father’s kidnapping? The man who’d come to the hotel on the night of the ball had an English accent, according to the clerk who spoke to him.

  ‘Thank you. My father has always been very good at getting himself both into and out of trouble. I’m sure it’s nothing.’

  Xing pulled out a chair and sat, relaxing as if the unpleasant business of the day was over. ‘I know. Now enough of this, what can I do for you?’

  I knew it would be better not to be direct with Xing, but I didn’t have time for tiptoeing around today.

  ‘I need to find Wuu Sing Chow. There has been a mix-up and an intermediary has disappeared. It’s worth a lot to me to get the transaction back on track.’

  ‘Wuu Sing Chow?’ Xing shook his head, his expression so closed and neutral that I knew at once he knew something. ‘No, I do not know this name.’

  I suppressed a sigh. Sipped the cooling tea and stood. ‘I like that blend of tea. More jasmine than your usual.’

  Xing nodded slowly. ‘Well done,’ he murmured. ‘I’d be a fool to forget how perceptive you are, Meredith Taylor.’

  ‘Or that I never ask questions without good reason.’ I wandered around the cluttered shop. Against the wall, far from the doorway, stood a huge bookshelf piled with what looked like dusty junk. I picked up a grimy ceramic duck. Lifting the hem of my black t-shirt, I used the underside to wipe the worst of the grime off.

  ‘A Mandarin Duck.’ I turned back to Xing and lifted it so that he could see. ‘Not easy to find these, and very desirable.’ I sat back at the table and placed it between us. It was the same size as the teacup, its iridescent enamel glowed with vibrant colours despite the dust and the dim light in the shop, and chips of sapphires, or maybe emeralds, sparkled as eyes.

  ‘That, Miss Taylor, has sat on the shelf for nearly sixteen years. No one has noticed it, and my father and I have had a little game to see who would find it. I am not surprised it was you. You have your father’s eye for quality.’

  ‘I spotted it the first time I came in here.’ I smiled slightly at the memory. Dad’s negotiations with Xing’s father had gone for three hours, but I’d happily accepted cups of tea and explored the place until they’d finished. I’d known, even then, what I wanted to do with my life.

  ‘When you were eight.’ Xing nodded. ‘Grandmother had died. And I had just married Sun Li. It was an emotional year.’

  ‘It will make a perfect gift for Wuu Sing Chow when I see him later today. I’m sure he would appreciate knowing where I got it.’

  Though Xing tried very hard to hide it, interest lit up his eyes as his inner salesman took over. My recommendation to someone as wealthy as Wuu Sing Chow, who was known to have a keen interest in antiquities, could well result in money in the bank and another prestigious patron for the shop.

  ‘That name is slightly familiar,’ he said, doing a bad job of being casual. ‘Now that I think about it.’

  ‘He is very well known—’ I dripped tact.

  ‘His office is here in Chinatown, I think. I can’t be sure, but I think he has a room or two above the Perfect Pearl restaurant.’

  I sipped my tea and watched him over the rim of the cup. ‘The Perfect Pearl? I’ll drop in and see.’

  ‘You’ll have the duck?’

  ‘Of course.’ I offered a price that was about a quarter of its true value. Xing wasn’t remotely shocked, and without batting an eyelid suggested a price that was double its true worth.

  We took it from there.

  ***

  I stepped out into the pollution-laden air of Chinatown fifteen minutes later. Usually negotiations took longer, but I’d caved early, leaving Xing open-mouthed with shock at the price I’d overpaid, and slightly offended by the whole business. The duck was safely tucked into my jacket pocket.

  I strode into the warren of streets, heading towards the Perfect Pearl. Wuu Sing Chow and Jack were close. I could feel it.

  My gun bumped reassuringly against my ribcage.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jack waited. The canister with the jewels balanced on his knees. He drew in a breath, but the sesame oil scent of the restaurant downstairs made nausea seethe through him. The view out the window, cement walls and blank windows of the high-rise across the street, provided no distraction.

  He wasn’t happy. The vibe here was off. An uneasy sense of dread crept over him. He felt trapped, hemmed in. This time he had no exit strategy … and he always had an exit strategy. Always.

  A thickset man pushed through the door. Jack immediately recognised him, Ping, Wuu Sing Chow’s hench-goon. The one who’d wanted to skewer his eyeball in the hotel room, and had inflicted the scar on his arm.

  He thought of Dan, safe now in Scotland, and his beautiful wife and baby. This would make them secure. Enable them to live without out fear of Wuu. All of them.

  But the thought didn’t make the acidic guilt or shattering hurt over Merry any less.

  ‘Come,’ he muttered to Jack. ‘Wuu Sing Chow will see you now.’

  Jack followed through a maze of passages, to an office that gave new meaning to the word tasteless. Decorated in red and gold, Wuu Sing Chow sat behind a desk that was the size of a single bed. Behind him on the wall, badly lit with downlights, was a Chinese silk painting. It depicted an eagle, wings outstretched, about to land on the bristle-like branches at the top of a pine tree.

  ‘Wow.’ Jack, unable to hide his fascination, put the canister on the desk and strode around it to get a closer look. ‘It’s a Xu Beihong. Stunning work.’

  The hench-goon charged forward, bristling aggression, but was waved back by Wuu.

  ‘I have three more at my villa in Hong Kong,’ said Wuu. ‘I’m glad you approve.’ He beamed as he showed off his prize. ‘This is my least favourite actually, so it lives here, in my Sydney office.’

  ‘Didn’t this once belong to Mao Zedong?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Very good.’ Wuu Sing Chow raised a surprised eyebrow. ‘It did. He gave it to a favourite concubine and she sold it to my grandfather, many years ago now. You know your art.’

  ‘What amazing provenance,’ said Jack, focusing on the painting as he settled his nerves. ‘Its unusual to have such a good history of a painting.’

  ‘Will you have some tea?’

  Jack nodded. Not having tea wasn’t an option. Tea would be had. This was no simple drop-off of an artefact and the whole matter was forgotten. Wuu Sing Chow’s honour had been dented, he had been made to look a fool by the theft of his stolen jewels. Jack knew exactly why he felt so nervous. Because this was where it got tricky to stay one hundred per cent alive.

  ‘Sit please.’ Wuu Sing Chow gestured around the desk to a simple wooden stool, quite at odds with the luxury of the rest of the room. Jack reluctantly sat, knowi
ng that it wasn’t a bizarre schoolchild trick to making him feel ashamed or inferior, but rather so his back was exposed, and in direct line of sight from the door. No chair to get in the way of a knife, or slow down a bullet.

  Jack glanced at Wuu. He wasn’t the type to shoot someone in the back, more the type to draw it out. Make it hurt. Torture a person.

  Jack shifted on the stool, swallowing back the nausea. He didn’t care. As long as Dan was safe. The rest was irrelevant. A small part of him sensed that it’d be a relief, really, to die. Then he wouldn’t have to live without Merry and with the consequences of what he’d done.

  He took a deep steadying breath. There’d be no dying. Of that he was one hundred and twenty per cent sure. Well … ninety-seven per cent.

  ‘So Mr Jones, you’ve brought me the jewels.’ Wuu leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles.

  The door opened and a slim girl in a white shirt, jeans and high-heeled tan boots came in carrying a tray. She set the tea things down, and with a nod to Wuu, left. She ignored Jack completely.

  Wuu made a show of pouring tea, and Jack sighed inwardly. There was a six o’clock flight back to England from Sydney airport, and he wondered for a moment if he’d catch it. His passport was in his pocket.

  His father had an old fishing shack, on Norfolk Island. Jack had a piercing yen to see it again. It was peaceful there. Far from the real world. He’d like to persuade Merry there, then slowly and with complete deliberation peel back the ice-queen facade and find the woman who calls little boys bucko, lets her best friend yell at her for paying off her mortgage, and is happy to spend hours messing about with African pot shards. The real Meredith. Merry. He wanted to find Merry.

  Then, when he was done with the facade, he’d start on her clothes.

  ‘Jack?’ Wuu Sing Chow had a note of annoyance in his voice.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Jack. ‘I was listening.’

  ‘Do you usually listen looking like a smitten fool?’

  Jack cleared his throat and organised his expression into something more menacing.

  Smitten? Hardly.

  Merry would slit his throat the moment she saw him.

  If they ever saw each other again.

  And he didn’t blame her. He’d be exactly the same if someone had sprayed him in the face with a chemical that was fast becoming the top choice of date-rapists the world over. If he’d given her the full dose it would’ve knocked her out for hours, if she’d kept breathing.

  He hadn’t. Of course.

  He sprayed her with just enough to get away. It was vile stuff and he hated himself for being forced to use it, or even know of its existence.

  ‘I’m relieved to hand over the jewels,’ he said. ‘It’s worried me considerably. I know that you were distressed by their theft. And I want to make clear yet again, that neither myself nor Dan had anything to do with the break-in. Had we known of the plot to steal them we would’ve informed you.’

  ‘My daughter’s very happy marriage depends on the Piprahwa Jewels,’ said Wuu Sing Chow. ‘If we didn’t get them back she was doomed to unhappiness.’

  Jack nodded sympathetically. Wuu Sing Chow’s daughter was marrying one of the most corrupt and evil men in China. He had doubts about her enduring happiness. Though she would never want for anything, and no doubt thuggish gang violence had always been part of her life, so who was he to guess at what made her happy?

  ‘Shall we check the jewels?’ he asked.

  Wuu nodded. So Jack took the canister, pressed his thumb into the scanner on the bottom and listened for the sucking clunk sound that meant the seal had released.

  Nothing happened.

  He frowned. He’d reset it. If it still needed Meredith’s print to open he was as good as dead. In fact, it was one hundred per cent guaranteed his last hour on the planet.

  He took a breath and pressed his thumb into the base again.

  Nothing happened again.

  ‘Is something wrong? asked Wuu with an edge in his voice.

  ‘No.’

  Jack remembered. The other thumb. He’d used his left hand. He switched over and to his relief it worked instantly. ‘Wrong hand,’ he said. ‘That’s all. My mistake.’

  ‘Let’s hope it’s your last one.’

  Jack, actually, hoped it wasn’t his last mistake. He hoped it was one of many throughout a long life and a disgraceful old age. But he didn’t mention that to Wuu.

  He placed the canister carefully on the desk and carefully lifted the lid open.

  Wuu drew in a slow breath.

  So did Jack.

  ‘Magnificent,’ murmured the hench-goon in a reverent tone, and then looked startled.

  ‘They say these bring the most powerful sense of wellbeing,’ said Wuu Sing Chow. ‘Can you feel it?’ He leaned over the desk, staring at Jack intently.

  Jack pressed his lips together and shook his head. ‘No mate, but maybe it’s because I’m thick-skinned.’

  Wuu Sing Chow examined him for a minute, as if deciding whether he was lying or not. ‘These jewels are very important in Buddhism.’

  ‘When it comes to faith, of any kind, I claim only to be filled with awe and confusion,’ said Jack neutrally. It was the truth, and his standard answer to any question of religion. He glanced at the jewels, there was something there. Something. Somehow he could sense that they weren’t inert, that there was a faint whisper of energy surrounding them. It made the hairs on his arms prickle in response.

  ‘They say if you touch them you can see the future.’ Wuu Sing Chow frowned at them. ‘Pick one up, Jack. Go on. Touch one.’

  For a moment Jack had a flashback to being offered his first cigarette. Round the back of the bike sheds at the school on Norfolk Island. Go on, his mate had said. Go on. Have one, try one. Jack had, of course, taken two deep drags. It made his head spin and he felt sick. He’d never been a fan after that.

  He reached out, fingers hovering an inch above the egg-shaped crystal spheres that held the jewels. He glanced at Wuu who nodded, licking his lips.

  Half smiling, Jack picked up the nearest jewel. The world flashed out of view, though he was aware that he fought to keep his expression neutral. He could see a fight. A vicious fight. He was fighting for his life and he was losing. He knew it and a grief was growing inside him, that he wouldn’t know what would happen tomorrow. That for him the story stopped today. Then a window shattered and a figure in black was there, and he knew instantly he’d been saved.

  He blinked. Focused on Wuu and carefully replaced the egg. ‘Didn’t tell me the lottery numbers,’ he said, with self-depreciating humour.

  He picked up his tea and took a sip, to steady his beating heart and to break Wuu’s intense stare. The whole thing was freaky as fuck. Was that a premonition? Who was the figure in black? What was the fight? He couldn’t remember if there were guns or punches thrown. He’d just felt the fear, the type you get when you’re losing.

  He wiped at his top lip, and was surprised to see he was sweating.

  ‘Are we done here?’ He spoke without thinking it through. There’d been no respect in his voice, it wasn’t how you asked for permission to leave the room from someone like Wuu Sing Chow.

  Wuu narrowed his eyes. ‘You have, as I asked, returned the jewels to me. I admit to being most surprised you did. I was sure I’d be having my assistant strangle you and dump your body in a mangrove swamp somewhere.’

  Jack shuddered at the casualness of the words.

  ‘There are many people prepared to go to great lengths to get these. And I admit I am pleased to be the one with the prize. My daughter will be delighted.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ It was a travesty, that someone like Wuu Sing Chow should have the jewels. They meant so much to so many.

  ‘I didn’t tell you of the second part of our bargain.’

  Jack’s heart sank, though he wasn’t particularly surprised that the stakes were suddenly changing. Wuu had to save face.

  ‘You�
�ve got the jewels. Our transaction is over, Wuu,’ Jack said firmly. ‘Finished. You leave my partner Daniel Evans alone and you leave me alone. Our business is complete.’

  ‘What did you see when you touched the jewels?’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ Jack shook his head.

  ‘I think you’ve got the gift of foresight.’

  ‘Foresight? Come on, you don’t buy into all that, do you? It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Wuu Sing Chow, ‘I am quite taken with it.’

  ‘I drink beer. I like football. I spend a lot of my time on my boat diving on sunken Spanish galleons in the Mediterranean. I’m not a soothsayer.’

  ‘Touch the jewels again then.’

  ‘I think it’s time to put the jewels away and for me to catch my flight back to London.’

  Jack flicked the lid of the canister shut and stood.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Wuu. ‘How would you like to come to China with me?’

  ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘Not happening.’

  The door behind him opened. Another of Wuu’s henchmen stood there, with a friend.

  ‘Are you Buddhist?’ Jack glanced at the hench-goon and his friend, then back to Wuu. ‘Do you understand what these relics really are?’

  ‘I am well-acquainted with the value of these relics, of course.’ Wuu had a defensive note in his voice.

  ‘Do you really think that dragging me off to China, and letting your enemies think you have the gift of predicting the future at your fingertips, is going to bring you good karma?’

  ‘I believe in making my own karma.’ Anger started to cloud Wuu’s face.

  Jack shook his head. ‘Buddhism is coming under increasing threat from other religions, especially in Indonesia. Don’t forget it has an aggressive side to it. If you take these jewels and it is known—’ Jack held up a hand to stop Wuu speaking. ‘If it is known, it will bring a lot of very angry Buddhists to your door.’

  Wuu had to know that taking the jewels was the equivalent of stealing the Holy Grail, the cup that held Jesus Christ’s blood, or the Prophet Muhammad’s Holy Mantle.