Macau, China
‘I THINK I need a shower after that,’ Luke said, pointedly wiping his right palm on the side of his trousers. He could still feel some kind of slippery unguent on it after shaking Rodrigues’s hand. ‘Christ, what an odious piece of work,’ he added. ‘To think we’ve had to come begging for help from a guy who’s knee-deep in the sex trade.’
‘Yup,’ Jenny replied. ‘At least you didn’t have your hand kissed.’ She wiped the back of hers.
They had waited until they had left McSorley’s Ale House before either said a word. They were now in the cavernous interior of the hotel, with its faux-Roman columns and gaudily painted ceilings in a kind of mockery of Michelangelo. Luke waited while a group of young Chinese passed them, giggling, sharing a video one had on her phone. When no one was in earshot he decided to broach the subject that had been on his mind for a while now.
‘Have we got this right, Jen?’ He stopped walking and turned to face her. From somewhere in the middle distance came the sound of a violin being played – he couldn’t tell if it was live or recorded.
‘Have we got what right?’ she answered. ‘Being in Macau, you mean?’
‘Yes. Well, the whole organized-crime angle. Look, I know Cheltenham traced those calls from Kowloon to here but come on, Jen, we both know that doesn’t prove anything conclusive.’ The violin music had stopped and now someone was singing ‘Nessun Dorma’. He realized it was being piped through hidden speakers. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘if Hannah’s cover’s been blown, doesn’t it make far more sense for this to be a state-on-state action? I’m thinking Russia, China, North Korea even. Pyongyang’s got form in this area. Remember the hit they did a few years ago at Kuala Lumpur airport on that half-brother of Kim Jong-un?’
‘The guy whose face they smothered with liquid nerve gas?’ Jenny shuddered. ‘Yes, I’m afraid I do remember that. It was hideous. He died in agony, I think.’
‘Right. Well, someone has clearly decided that Hannah has information they want. They probably think she works for us full-time. My hunch is that right now she’s sitting in a windowless room in somewhere like Vladivostok or Shanghai, having to answer a whole load of questions she doesn’t know the answer to. I’m sorry, Jen. I know it was my lead from Mr Lim that brought us here but …’ He looked around at the hotel’s uber-opulent interior. Every single centimetre of surface seemed to shimmer with gold lacquer. ‘Macau just feels like we’re being led up the garden path, that’s all.’
‘Then how do you account for Rodrigues knowing that Hannah works at Imperial College?’
‘Yes, all right,’ Luke conceded. ‘That was a bit of a shock, I admit. But Lim gave him her name. He could have just had his people do the due diligence on her. Maybe he was only being thorough.’
Jenny put on her glasses and pursed her lips as she looked at him. ‘You may be right, Luke, in which case we are right back to square one in trying to track her down. But look at it this way. We’ve got this far with Rodrigues – he’s offered to help us, for whatever messed-up reason he’s got going with your Mr Lim. So let’s see what he comes up with. I can’t see what we have to lose. Come on, we’d better get checked in at this place.’
Past black velvet ropes and across a polished marble floor that resembled a giant chessboard, Luke and Jenny walked up to the bank of receptionists. A young man with white ear-buds flashed them a smile of welcome, his face lit by a giant chandelier that hung above his desk. ‘Miss Trubridge? Mr Blanford?’ he asked. He seemed to be expecting them. ‘Excellent. Yes. We have put you in the Golden Suite. Oh, and I have a message for you.’ He produced a sealed envelope and handed it to Luke. Jenny looked over his shoulder as he opened it and read the contents. It was a simple sentence typed on a blank sheet of paper. No signature, no corporate logo. It said simply: ‘Miss Xinyi will collect you from your hotel at 8 p.m. I wish you every success. R.’