Ian Hamilton - The disciple of Las Vegas

“He said he went to Oxford?” Ava said, looking at her notes that said otherwise.

“Every day.”

“And he’s engaged to Lily Simmons?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about her.”

“Mr. Galley, if Ashton was so secretive, tell me, why did he tell you about his fiancee?”

“That was one of the things that was weird about him. As secretive as he was about business, when it came to personal shit he was like the National Enquirer.”

“Like how?”

“The fiancee.”

“What do you mean?”

“He talked about her all the time, about how kinky and what a wack job she was.”

“Define kinky.”

Galley paused. “You sure you want to hear this?”

“I’m a big girl.”

He laughed nervously. It always surprised Ava how uncomfortable Americans were talking about sex. “She lives in London, he’s in New York. He went there once a month for a weekend and she came here once a month. On any Monday after a visit, Jeremy used to drag his ass into the office saying he could hardly walk.”

“Go on,” Ava said.

“He’d say they hardly left the bedroom for the entire weekend. She was like a fucking rabbit. As many times as he could get it up, she could take it. And when he couldn’t get it up, she’d find other ways to get off.”

“Like how?”

“Ms. Lee, really — ”

“It’s okay. Tell me.”

“She evidently liked being tied up. She liked being spanked. He said she’d play with herself while he was spanking her, and it would always end up giving him a boner. Then she’d suck him to death.”

“Did you ever meet her?”

“Once.”

“And?”

“She was absolutely crazy about him and kept telling me how fantastic he was and how lucky she was to have him… It was a bit bizarre, to tell you the truth. I mean, Jeremy was listening to her go on about him with this big, stupid grin on his face. He was high on something, and she was too, I think.”

“High on what?”

“I have no idea. I’m not into pharmaceuticals.”

“But, high or not, she was obviously strongly attached to him?”

“Given how ugly she is, it’s hard to blame her for being grateful.”

“What does she look like?”

“Tall, skinny, frizzy red hair, long, pointy face. No tits and no ass to speak of. She’s no beauty, that’s for sure.”

“What did Ashton think about her looks?”

“He used to joke about them, but he said anyone who could fuck like that had to be forgiven.”

“Charming.”

“That was Jeremy.”

“You said that was one of the things you found strange about him. What else?”

“Like I said, I’m not into pharmaceuticals and I’m not a doctor, but I think he was manic-depressive.”

“What made you think that?”

“Well, the normal Jeremy was very contained, a bit slow to react. Not stupid or anything, just deliberate, thoughtful, careful. Then once in a while this other Jeremy would appear in the office. He’d be jumpy, his eyes were off-centre, and he’d talk fast and get angry fast. One of the assistants said he must have gone off his meds. I asked her what she meant, and she said her brother was manic-depressive and that Jeremy had all the classic symptoms.”

Ava paused to review her notes.

Galley said, “You still there?”

“I’m here… Tell me, where did the money come from to fund The River? Did Ashton have it?”

“Not a fucking chance.”

“So from where?”

“I think the fiancee talked Smyth’s into putting up some of it. The rest, I heard, came from her family.”

“I saw the shareholder register, and Smyth’s isn’t listed.”

“That’s not unusual. They get into start-ups, and if they don’t work out real fast, they bail.”

“The family isn’t listed either.”

“They put their money in through a holding company.”

“How do you know that?”

“I heard it from a reliable source.”

“Who?”

He paused. “A Whiteburn girl he was fucking when the fiancee wasn’t around.”

“Nice.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“One of life’s essential guidelines.”

“Ms. Lee, are we done?”

“I think so,” Ava said.

“Would you do me a small favour?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Could you let your Chinese friend know that I was helpful — ”

“Of course,” Ava said, cutting off the rest of the sequence.

She sat quietly at the desk, then pulled up a photo of Lily Simmons and Jeremy Ashton on her computer. She tried to imagine Simmons naked, being spanked, Ashton’s thin, ferrety face hovering over her, his penis heading for her mouth. Ava shuddered. Likeable or not, Ashton was turning out to be a lot more interesting than she’d thought he would be.

Her three boys were waiting anxiously in the lobby. Ava strode up to them confidently and nodded. “Let’s go,” she said.

As they drove out of Las Vegas and into the desert, she kept up a steady stream of questions. How did Martin do at the craps table? Did the boys play baccarat? What time did they go to sleep? What time did they wake up? What did they have for breakfast? Back and forth she went in English and Cantonese, trying to keep their minds off what lay ahead, trying to make the day as normal as any other.

When they were five minutes from The Oasis, she told Martin to pull over. They sat on the shoulder as cars passed from either direction. Finally the road was clear. “Open the trunk,” she said.

She gave Carlo the paper bag with the gun. “It’s loaded but the safety is on.”

She gave Andy the bag with the meat cleaver. He looked inside and smiled.

“Andy, you get in the trunk first, and then you, Carlo. Now listen, if by some fluke security stops Martin and forces him to open it, don’t react. Carlo, no gunplay, do you understand?”

“Nothing?”

“You roll over and play dead.”

“Okay, boss.”

“Cellphones off?”

They nodded.

“Fine, get in.”

Andy got in first. He lay on his side, his face turned towards them. Carlo joined him, his position identical. Ava kissed Martin on both cheeks. “I thought about this last night, and I’m convinced it will be smooth sailing. So no worrying, okay?”

“I’m ready.”

She squeezed into the trunk, her ribs protesting. She lay on her good side, her face pressed again the wall. Martin closed the lid gently. The last thing she saw was his eyes, full of concern but not fear.

The air inside the trunk was stale, and Ava had trouble breathing. It’s just my imagination, she told herself. There’s no danger of running out of air. Behind her, Carlo and Andy lay absolutely still. They smelled like baby powder.

The car stopped, and Ava guessed they were at the first security gate. It started forward again almost immediately, turning left, and she remembered there was a stoplight at the off-ramp to the road leading into The Oasis.

The car stopped again. She counted. At fifteen it crept back into motion.

I hope the guards wave Martin through, Ava thought, but they stopped again. It was quiet; she imagined that Martin’s ID was being examined. Don’t say too much, she thought. Keep it simple. She waited for the car to move, but instead she heard the door open. Behind her, Carlo stiffened. “ Momentai,” she whispered, but there was a lump in her chest and sweat was beading on her forehead.

The car door closed. Silence. Ava closed her eyes, convinced that the next time she opened them a strange face would be staring down at her. Then she heard Martin’s voice and heard the door open again, then slam shut. The car moved forward. She could feel Carlo relax behind her. “I told you, no problem,” she said.