Ian Hamilton - The wild beast of Wuhan

“What else do you want?”

“Glen Hughes lives. He lives for as long as his health allows. He lives, and all his family and his friends live. No one who is close to Glen Hughes has an accident.”

“If that isn’t possible?”

“Then, Auntie, from our side, three things happen. The money — all of it — disappears. More important, perhaps, is that the world will find out that Wong Changxing bought fifteen fake paintings and paid seventy-three million dollars for them in a pathetic attempt to be something he’s not. And finally I will somehow, in some way, link — at least in the public’s mind — the death of those three people to the two of you.”

“Does Uncle know what your position is?”

“Call him and ask.”

“I may.”

“Call him on another line. I’ll wait.”

May Ling paused. “Thirty percent?”

“And Glen Hughes lives.”

“I need to talk to Changxing — ”

“No, you don’t,” Ava snapped. “You and I alone will agree on how this business is to be concluded. The men may be told, but not consulted.”

“Or?”

“As I said, there will be no money and I will do everything I can to shame and humiliate your husband. Maybe no one in China will ever know what happened, but the rest of the world will. And I can guarantee that by the time I’m finished there will be so many rumours about the killings in Kensington that not a country in the world will give either of you a visa.”

May Ling went quiet. “Thirty percent,” she whispered, “and Hughes lives?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“And we get the seventy-three million?”

“No, I think by the time I’ve paid certain expenses, I’ll recover about sixty million. Subtracting our commission, that will leave you about forty million.”

“You would sacrifice twenty million in commission for Glen Hughes’ life?”

“And you would forgo forty million and risk your husband’s reputation, everything he’s built, for the life of a man you’ve never met?”

“I see the logic in your position,” May Ling said carefully. “But I don’t know if my husband will.”

Ava thought of Glen Hughes. He was already on his way to England to comfort his brother’s widow because of what he thought was a robbery gone wrong. “Tell Changxing that letting Hughes live is a greater and more prolonged torture. He’ll be a man living in perpetual terror, waiting for the gun that will take his life just as his brother’s was taken. In some ways, letting him live is a greater punishment than killing him.”

“There is a sense of justice in that.”

“Shall I tell Uncle?”

“Yes, you can tell him,” May Ling said. “I will make my husband understand.”

“I hope so, Auntie, because I am a vengeful woman.”

“That is another quality,” May Ling said softly, “that we seem to share.”

The first Air Canada flight out of Heathrow to Toronto was at eleven a.m. Ava was checked in by nine thirty and sitting in the lounge and online ten minutes later. There was an email message from Roxanne Rice, saying the two paintings had sold for eighty-four million. The money would be in the Liechtenstein account within forty-eight hours. The Wongs would net just over forty million after Harrington’s commissions and expenses, the five million each for Hughes and Rice, and the thirty percent she and Uncle had earned as their commission. Ava sent Roxanne her thanks and asked her to pass along best wishes to her husband. She then emailed her flight schedule to Maria, Mimi, and her mother and told them she would contact them when she reached her condo in Yorkville.

It was mid-evening in Hong Kong. Uncle should be at dinner, she thought. She had called him the night before to update him on her talk with May Ling Wong. He hadn’t been surprised by her apparent success but was now as anxious as she was to put this case behind them. She knew he would be pleased that the money would be available so quickly. His cellphone rang once and went directly to voicemail. That’s strange, she thought, and dialled his home number.

“ Wei,” he answered.

“You’re at home this time of night?” she said.

“My stomach keeps acting up. I went to see a doctor this afternoon and had acupuncture. Now I am drinking nothing but warm water and eating only congee for two days.”

“I worry about you.”

“Please do not. I am not falling apart — not yet, anyway.”

“I’m at Heathrow, heading home. I was just told that our money will be available within the next two or three days.”

“Excellent. I will call Changxing.”

“I wonder if he’ll make any mention of the changes in our agreement.”

“He has already. He called me earlier today,” Uncle said and made a small noise that sounded to Ava like a laugh. “That wife of his told him she thought they should increase our commission to the regular rate. She said you had done some remarkable work and that she had perhaps been disrespectful, haggling with me the way she did. He told me he had felt that way all along, and he instructed his wife to follow her instincts and pay us thirty percent. He made it sound as if he was giving me a gift.”

“I see.”

“He also said he had been thinking about Glen Hughes.”

“And?”

“He thinks Hughes must be going crazy with fear. ‘He is living in hell,’ he said. He has decided to leave him there.”

“May Ling is a clever woman.”

“Yes, she is,” Uncle said slowly. “She could be an important contact in years to come. Anyone with her kind of guangxi should not so easily be set aside.”

“Uncle — ”

“I know you do not want to hear that and I will not mention it again, but that does not make it any less true,” he said.

Before she could answer, the announcement came that her flight was ready to board. “I have to go, Uncle.”

“Safe journey,” he said.

Eight hours later Ava was walking through the arrivals hall at Pearson Airport, heading towards the limousine service. Then she heard her name. She turned to see Mimi, her mother, Maria, and Marcus Lee all waving at her.

Mimi and her mother were standing together; Marcus was to his wife’s left and Maria several metres to Mimi’s right. It was an awkward grouping, given that her mother never liked to concede looks to any other woman; tall, blonde, beautiful Mimi was an overpowering presence. Maria was wearing the Steinum sweater. Shy as always, she gave Ava a small smile, a tiny wave.

Ava went directly to Maria. They kissed discreetly, and then Maria said, “Mimi introduced me to your parents.”

“As what?”

“Your friend.”

Ava turned and walked over to her parents and Mimi, Maria trailing behind.

“Welcome home,” Mimi said, holding out her arms. The two women hugged.

Ava looked at Jennie Lee. “Mummy, you’ve met Maria.”

“Yes,” Jennie said. “I told her that I’ve never seen a girl who looked so good in bright colours.”

Ava smiled. “Even though I wasn’t expecting any of you, I’m really happy to see you. But now I really want to get home. How will we handle transportation?”

“I have Mummy’s car,” Marcus Lee said.

“Maria and I came together in a limo. It’s waiting outside,” said Mimi.

Ava looked at her parents. “If you don’t mind, I’ll ride with the girls. Maybe we can meet later for dinner.”

Marcus Lee looked uncomfortable, and Ava wondered if she had offended him. “Daddy, it’s just more practical.”

“Can we talk privately for a moment?” he said.

Ava looked at her mother and saw concern etched on her face. “Of course,” she said.

They moved to the side, leaving the other three women.