“THOSE PASSENGERS TRAVELING to onward destinations . . .”
“That’s all I need,” muttered Jack.
“What do you need, sir?” asked an attentive stewardess.
“Transit.”
“Where is your final destination, sir?”
“I have no idea,” said Jack. “What’s the choice?”
The stewardess laughed. “Are you still hoping to travel east?”
“That makes sense.”
“Then it has to be Tokyo, Manila, Sydney, or Auckland.”
“Thank you,” said Jack, thinking, that doesn’t help, but adding out loud, “If I decided to spend the night in Hong Kong, I would have to go through passport control, whereas if I wanted transit . . .”
The stewardess continued to humor him, “When you disembark, sir, there are clear signs directing you to baggage claim or transit. Is your luggage booked through, sir, or will you be picking it up?”
“I don’t have any luggage,” Jack admitted.
The stewardess nodded, smiled, and left to attend to some of her more sane passengers.
Jack realized that once he disembarked he would have to move quickly if he hoped to locate a concealed vantage point from where he could observe Anna’s next move—and not be observed by her other admirer.
__________
Anna stared distractedly out of the cabin window as the plane descended smoothly into Chek Lap Kok airport.
She would never forget her first experience of flying into Hong Kong some years before. To begin with, it felt like a normal approach, and then at the last moment, without warning, the pilot banked steeply and headed straight for the hills. He then descended between the city high-rises, bringing gasps from first-timers, before finally bumping down the short runway into Kow-loon, as if he were auditioning for a part in a 1944 war movie. When the plane came to a halt, several of the passengers applauded. Anna was glad that the new airport meant she would not have to experience a repeat performance.
She checked her watch. Although the flight was running twenty minutes late, her onward connection wasn’t scheduled for another couple of hours. She would use any spare time to pick up a guide to Tokyo, a city she had never visited before.
Once they’d come to a halt at the terminal gate, Anna progressed slowly down the aisle, waiting for other passengers to rescue their bags from the overhead lockers. She looked around, wondering if Fenston’s man was watching her every move. She tried to remain calm, though in truth her heartbeat must have shot above a hundred every time a man even glanced in her direction. She felt sure he must have already disembarked and would now be lying in wait. Perhaps he even knew her final destination. Anna had already decided on the false piece of information she would drop when she next phoned Tina, one that would send Fenston’s man flying in the wrong direction.
Anna stepped off the aircraft and looked around her for the sign. At the end of a long corridor, an arrow directed transit passengers to the left. She joined a handful of travelers heading for other destinations, while the majority of passengers turned right.
When she walked into the transit area, she was greeted by a neon-lit city, half as old as Swatch, lurking in wait for its imprisoned customers to part with their foreign currency. Anna strolled from shop to shop, admiring the latest fashions, electrical equipment, cell phones, and jewelry. Although she saw several items she would have considered in normal circumstances, because of her pecuniary predicament the only shop she thought about entering was a book store displaying foreign newspapers and all the latest best sellers—in several languages. She strolled across to the travel section, to be faced with row upon row of gazetteers of countries as far afield as Azerbaijan and Zanzibar.
Her eyes settled on the section on Japan, which included a shelf devoted to Tokyo. She picked up the Lonely Planet guide to Japan, along with a Berlitz miniguide to the capital. She began to flick through them.
Jack slipped into an electrical shop on the other side of the mall from where he had a clear sight line of his quarry. All he could make out was that she was standing below a large, multicolored TRAVEL sign. Jack would have liked to get close enough to discover which title was causing her to turn the pages so intently, but he knew he couldn’t risk it. He began to count down the shelves in an attempt to pinpoint which country had monopolized her attention.
“Can I assist you, sir?” asked the young lady behind the counter.
“Not unless you have a pair of binoculars,” said Jack, not taking his eyes off Anna.
“Several,” replied the assistant, “and can I recommend this particular model? They are this week’s special offer, reduced from ninety dollars to sixty, while stocks last.”
Jack looked round as the young girl removed a pair of binoculars from the shelf behind her and placed them on the counter.
“Thank you,” said Jack. He picked them up and focused them on Anna.
She was still turning the pages of the same book but Jack couldn’t make out the title.
“I’d like to see your latest model,” he said, placing the special offer back on the counter. “One that could focus on a street sign at a hundred meters.”
The assistant bent down, unlocked the display cabinet, and extracted another pair.
“These are Leica, top-of-the-line, 12 by 50,” she assured him. “You could identify the label on the coffee they’re serving in the café opposite.”
Jack focused on the bookshop. Anna was replacing the book she had been reading, only to pick up the one next to it. He had to agree with the assistant, they were state-of-the-art. He could make out the word Japan and even the letters TOKYO that were displayed above the shelf Anna was taking so much interest in. Anna closed the book, smiled, and headed across to the counter. She also picked up a copy of the Herald Tribune as she waited in the line.
“They are good, yes?” said the assistant.
“Very good,” said Jack, replacing the binoculars on the counter, “but I’m afraid they’re out of my budget. Thank you,” he added, before leaving the shop.
“Strange,” said the girl to her colleague behind the counter. “I never even told him the price.”
Anna had reached the head of the line and was paying for her two purchases when Jack headed off in the opposite direction. He joined another line at the far end of the concourse.
When he reached the front of the line, he asked for a ticket to Tokyo.
“Yes, sir. Which flight—Cathay Pacific or Japan Airlines?”
“When do they leave?” asked Jack.
“Japan Airlines will be boarding shortly, as the flight departs in forty minutes. Cathay’s Flight three-zero-one is due to take off in an hour and a half.”
“Japan Airlines, please,” said Jack, “business class.”
“How many bags will you be checking in?”
“Hand luggage only.”
The sales assistant printed the ticket, checked his passport, and said, “If you proceed to Gate Seventy-one, Mr. Delaney, boarding is about to commence.”
Jack walked back toward the coffee shop. Anna was sitting at the counter, engrossed in the book she had just purchased. He was even more careful to avoid her gaze, as he felt sure she now realized she was being followed. Jack spent the next few minutes purchasing goods from shops he wouldn’t normally have visited, all made necessary by the woman perched on the corner stool in the coffee shop. He ended up with an overnight bag, which would be allowed on board as hand luggage, a pair of jeans, four shirts, four pairs of socks, four pairs of underpants, two ties (special offer), a packet of razors, shaving cream, aftershave, soap, toothbrush, and toothpaste. He hung around inside the pharmacy, waiting to see if Anna was about to move.
“Last call for passengers on Japan Airways Flight four-one-six to Tokyo. Please proceed immediately to Gate Seventy-one for final boarding.”
Anna turned another page of her book, which convinced Jack that she must be booked onto the Cathay Pacific flight leaving an hour later. This time be would be waiting for her. He tugged at his overnight bag and followed the signs for Gate 71. Jack was among the last to board the aircraft.
Anna checked her watch, ordered another coffee, and turned her attention to the Herald Tribune. The pages were full of stories on the aftermath of 9/11, with a report on the memorial service held in Washington, D.C., attended by the president. Did her family and friends still believe that she was dead, or just missing? Had the news that she’d been seen in London already percolated back to New York? Clearly Fenston still wanted everyone to believe she was dead, at least until he got his hands on the Van Gogh. All that would change in Tokyo, if— Something made her look up, and she spotted a young man with thick, dark hair staring at her. He quickly looked away. She jumped off her stool and walked straight across to him.
“Are you following me, by any chance?” she demanded.
The man gave Anna a startled look. “Non, non, mademoiselle, mais peut-être voulez-vous prendre un verre avec moi?”
“This is the first call for . . .”
Two more eyes were also watching Anna as she apologized to the Frenchman, settled her bill, and made her way slowly to Gate 71.
Krantz only let her out of her sight after she’d boarded the plane.
Krantz was among the last passengers to board Flight CX 301. On entering the aircraft, she turned left and took her usual window seat in the front row. Krantz knew that Anna was seated at the back of economy, but she had no idea where the American was. Had he missed the flight, or was he roaming around Hong Kong searching for Petrescu?