Ian Hamilton - The disciple of Las Vegas

He’s a bit tipsy but he’s not slow, she thought. “Do you deny it?”

“Ms. Lee, where is all this leading?”

“Mr. Ling, I had several choices when I found out what had been going on. Coming to you was the one I thought would cause the least amount of damage to everyone involved.”

Ling pinched an eyebrow between his thumb and index finger. “The thing is, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I may have incorporated Kelowna Valley Developments, and I may have done it for Philip, but that’s where my involvement ends. I had nothing to do with the company after its inception and I don’t have the slightest idea why you’re talking about damage.”

“Do you care about Philip Chew?” she asked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Is he a valued client? Is he a friend?”

“Both, and what of it?”

She picked up the notebook and the envelope and placed them on her lap. Ling stared at the envelope. “I would like to have a very frank exchange of information with you, but I need to know that it will remain between the two of us unless we both agree otherwise.”

“Do you trust me?”

“If you really are a friend of Philip Chew, then I think I do.”

“I am.”

She patted the envelope. “Over the past six months, Philip Chew orchestrated the removal of more than fifty million dollars from company accounts. He did it through Kelowna Valley Developments and he used Jim Cousins as the front man. I’ve already met with Cousins and he’s admitted to his role in the affair. This is a copy of the contract that existed between Chew and Cousins. It outlines quite precisely what was to transpire.”

Edward Ling didn’t flinch. His eyes bored into hers, searching for any shred of a lie, any hint of exaggeration. Ava didn’t turn away. “That’s ridiculous,” he said loudly.

“It’s the truth.”

His head swivelled in the direction of the stairway he had just descended. “Why would he do that? It’s his own company, for God’s sake.”

“It’s his brother’s company,” she countered.

“I’ve known Philip for close to twenty years.”

“So?”

“You’re cynical for someone so young.”

“I chase bad debts for a living. You can’t be cynical enough.”

“Why would he do something like this?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“And you want me to help you?”

She picked up the envelope. “I’m prepared to give you a copy of the contract. It will satisfy you that what I’m saying is true. What I want in return is confirmation that Philip did indeed incorporate the business and ask you to hold the shares in trust.”

“And then what?”

“I want to speak to him. I want you to call him and persuade him that it’s in everyone’s best interest if he meets with me.”

“You won’t go directly to Tommy Ordonez with this information?”

“Do you know Tommy?”

“Not really,” he said, with a shrug. “I don’t do any of their corporate work. They use a Manila law firm for most of their legal work and another law firm here that’s affiliated with it. Philip was a personal client.”

“If I go to Tommy, all hell will descend on Philip. He’ll hardly be able to breathe, let alone explain himself — assuming there is an explanation for fifty million dollars wandering off from corporate coffers.”

“Why should you care?”

It was a fair question, and she knew her answer couldn’t be glib. “I have several reasons, all of them more or less self-serving. First of all, I was hired to find out what happened to the money. I think I’ve taken that between seventy and eighty percent of the way, and I’m professional enough to want to finish the job. Second, I get paid a fee for every dollar I recover. I can’t recover anything unless I know what’s left and where it is. Third, I have taken a certain dislike to Tommy Ordonez. I think he’s the kind of operator who uses people. If I went to him with what I have, he would cut me out without a thought. I don’t want to give him that opportunity. And finally, I really am intrigued by the way Philip handled this deal and the story he spun to Jim Cousins. He’s been very creative, and I want to know the truth.”

Ling looked at the envelope, and she knew he was anxious to view its contents. “You see, it is interesting,” she said.

He shook his head. “Yes, Philip did incorporate the company and asked me to hold the shares.”

“I want it in writing.”

“No problem.”

“Good. I’ll give you a copy of this contract when I get your letter confirming the shares.”

“How about arranging a meeting with Philip?”

“That’s not a condition,” she said. “I just want you to do the best you can. I am serious when I say that I’m his best chance to avoid his brother’s anger.”

“Jesus, you remind me of your father,” Ling said. “Every deal he ever negotiated left something on the table for the other party.”

“There’s no point in being unreasonable,” she said.

“Maybe you should say that to Tommy Ordonez.”

“I will, when I know exactly what happened.”

“You don’t think Philip just made off with fifty million dollars?”

“You know him better than I do. What do you think?”

Ling shook his head again. “Not a chance.”

Ava woke at 7 a.m. with a start. The time changes and jet lag were beginning to get to her. Her mind was alert but her body felt like a sack of potatoes that had been tossed about in the back of a truck. She rolled off the bed, knelt, and said a small prayer to St. Jude. Then she got up and grabbed a couple of pouches of Starbucks VIA instant coffee from her “Double Happiness” bag. The coffee didn’t energize her nearly enough. She needed a good, brisk run to give her body a real jolt. As she stripped in the bathroom she looked at the still-dark bruises on her body. She sighed, put on her Adidas running gear, and walked over to the window.

The ground was wet but the rain had stopped and the mist had cleared. The Pan Pacific Hotel was in the Canada Place complex on Vancouver’s inner harbour, overlooking Burrard Inlet. Ava could see the Coast Mountains to the northeast and Stanley Park to the northwest. She put on her running jacket and grabbed her cellphone before leaving the room.

Stanley Park was more than four hundred hectares — larger than New York’s Central Park. Within the park, more than two hundred kilometres of trails and roads wound around half a million centuries-old trees, some of them seventy metres high. Ava jogged the perimeter, which was encircled by a seawall close to nine kilometres long that offered breathtaking views of the inlet. It began to rain again, ever so slightly, but the scenery around her was so beautiful that she hardly noticed.

Just as she was passing under Lion’s Gate Bridge, a massive construction that spanned the inlet, connecting the downtown area to wealthy West Vancouver, she heard her cellphone ring. She stopped to retrieve the phone, leaning against the seawall.

“This is Ava Lee.”

“Edward Ling. Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“You sound winded.”

“I’m running in Stanley Park, halfway around the seawall.”

“In this weather?”

“It isn’t so bad.”

“Well, while you’ve been running, I’ve been working. I have that letter you wanted. I’m going to send it to your hotel by courier and, if you don’t mind, I’ll ask the courier to pick up the envelope you promised me in return.”

“That’s fine, but I’ll be at least another forty-five minutes.”

“There’s no rush on my end.”

“How about Philip Chew? Did you manage to arrange a meeting?” Ava asked.