Ian Hamilton - The disciple of Las Vegas

“Hello, I’m Lily Simmons,” she said, offering her hand.

Ava looked into green eyes that were friendly, if not entirely engaged. “I’m Ava Lee.”

“Let’s sit, shall we,” Simmons said, and then looked at the table. “Oh, they haven’t offered you anything, have they? How rude. Coffee, tea, water?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

“I come empty-handed, as you can see,” Simmons said. “I normally bring paperwork with me to a meeting, but frankly I had no idea what it was you wanted to discuss. You are quite the mystery woman, you know.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“When my fiance called last night to pass on your name, I was asleep. Rather neglectfully, I didn’t take the time to ask him more about you. This morning I reached out to our offices in Asia — we’re everywhere — and inquired if any of them knew of a woman named Ava Lee attached to what Jeremy described as a substantial Asian interest. None of them did. I called Jeremy several times today, hoping he could fill me in a bit more, but I haven’t been able to connect with him. So there you are, Ms. Lee — I come unprepared, and I apologize for that.”

“I’m representing the Ordonez Group in the Philippines.”

“Yes, I have heard of them,” Simmons said, shifting in her chair. “Cigarettes and beer, correct?”

“Among other things.”

“At the most economical end of the market?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“And they — what? They think there might be a market for those products in the U.K.?”

“My reason for being here has absolutely nothing to do with the normal business of the Ordonez Group,” Ava said, opening her Chanel bag.

“Jeremy did mention that you might have an interest in investing in The River.”

“No, we have no interest whatsoever in doing that.”

“The mystery continues,” Simmons said with a slight smile.

“Although The River is why I’m here,” Ava said, taking the transfer request from her bag. She turned the document around and slid it across the table. “I would like you to sign this.”

In Las Vegas, and then on the plane, Ava had mentally tested various strategies for broaching the topic with Lily Simmons. She had kept returning to this one. Uncle called it starting at the end: make it clear what you want up front and then work your way back. He thought the strategy saved time, eliminated questions and doubts, and softened resistance.

Simmons picked up the paper. Ava watched her green eyes shift from mild curiosity to utter confusion. “Just who are you, and what kind of game is this?” she said, throwing the request back onto the table.

Ava took out the confession. “This may explain things.”

“I’m not sure I have any interest in reading anything else, or continuing this discussion. You’re obviously here under some kind of false pretence. I think you should leave the premises,” Simmons said, standing.

“Ms. Simmons, I understand that this is difficult — and truthfully, it isn’t going to get any easier — but you do need to read this document. It’s signed by both your fiance and his partner, David Douglas. It’s an admission of their guilt in orchestrating a scheme that defrauded my client, the Ordonez Group, and others of the $65 million I’m asking to be returned. This transfer request will allow that to happen.”

Simmons looked down at Ava, who was holding out the confession for her to take. She reached for it, read the first few lines, and then sat down. She read to the end of the page, glanced at Ava, and then read it again. “This is absurd,” she said.

“You don’t say that with much conviction.”

Simmons rose to her feet again. Holding the confession in her right hand, she crumpled it into a ball. Ava saw that her left hand was shaking and her cheeks had turned crimson. “Is this enough conviction for you?” Simmons shouted. Then she threw the ball of paper, which sailed past Ava onto the floor. Ava spun around to retrieve it, and when she looked up, Simmons was gone, the door slammed shut behind her.

Ava straightened out the paper, smoothing it with the palm of her hand, and put it on top of the transfer request. She sat back in her chair, her eyes on the door. In a matter of a few minutes she had lost control of the meeting. What misjudgement, she thought. What a mess.

Five minutes passed, and then five more. Ava tried to stay calm. She had been escorted from buildings before; there were worse kinds of exits. It was closing in on fifteen minutes when the door finally opened.

“I’ve just tried to call Jeremy. I can’t reach him,” Simmons said from the doorway.

“He won’t speak with you,” Ava said, trying not to show relief.

“What have you done to him… with him?” Simmons asked, taking two steps into the room.

Something’s changed, Ava thought. Simmons seemed more confident, or maybe just less fearful, than when she had left. There was an edge to her voice, and her body thrust aggressively forward as if she was ready to charge at Ava. Before she had been reluctant to make eye contact; now her green eyes bore into Ava’s, the colour heightened and glinting.

“Not a thing. We have an understanding, nothing more than that,” Ava said. “Both he and Douglas have agreed to return the money they put into the holding company’s account in Cyprus. In exchange, we won’t pursue legal action against them and we will permit The River to keep functioning as a business. I asked Jeremy, as a courtesy, not to communicate with you until matters were resolved at this end. Now, you can try to call again if you wish, but I don’t think you’ll reach him.”

“I’m not sure I want to talk to him anyway,” Simmons said, picking up the confession, her eyes darting between the paper in her hands and Ava. When she had finished reading it again, she held it against her hip and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were full of rage. Simmons raised the paper in front of her chest and, with her eyes locked on Ava’s, ripped it into shreds.

She’s on something, Ava thought. “That won’t make it go away,” she said.

“I don’t believe anything you’re telling me.”

Ava reached into her bag and pulled out the paperwork that Jack Maynard and Felix Hunter had prepared for her. “Jeremy and David Douglas, as the confession states, manipulated the site’s software so they could see all the cards at the table — so they could cheat. These are statistical analyses that detail the process and prove that it was indeed done,” she said as softly as she could while still being sure she was heard. “The Cooper Island Gaming Commission, which regulates and administers your site, has this same data and agrees that it’s proof positive. You can call them if you wish. They’ll confirm it.”

“Then why is the site still running? Why haven’t they shut it down?”

“The Gaming Commission, like the Ordonez Group — and, I’m sure, like you — don’t want the firestorm of negative publicity this information would generate if it was broadly known. The Commission has agreed to let us pursue our own course of action first. Mind you, if we’re not successful, then both they and the Ordonez Group will be forced to seek other avenues.”

“Such as?”

“Well, the Gaming Commission would certainly shut down your site, and the Ordonez Group would take legal action.”

“The site hasn’t been profitable until — ”

“Until your fiance and his partner started stealing,” Ava said.

“If it isn’t profitable, why should we care if they shut it down?” Simmons said.

She’s not listening, Ava thought. “Shut down or not, if the money isn’t returned there would still be legal action.”

Simmons took another step forward. The only thing separating her from Ava was the small table. “That’s rather a stupid threat to make. You know as well as I do how long and complicated a process that would be. God, with all the jurisdictions involved, who would know where to begin? It could take years to sort things out.”