Ian Hamilton - The disciple of Las Vegas

“And then things may have been said or implied that could be construed as inappropriate, in terms of his experiences doing business in Asia or with certain Asians.”

“Yes, he did express some opinions that I thought were out of place.”

“Ms. Lee, that was simply a case of his emotions getting the better of him. He was obviously upset about his daughter. Surely you can understand that.”

“Where is this leading, Mr. Hawkins?” Ava asked.

“Would you be prepared to attest, in writing, that the Minister did not directly discuss any issues, financial or otherwise, connected to The River?”

“Are you asking if I would swear that he didn’t breach the integrity of the blind trust?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I can do that.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Is there anything else?” Ava said.

“Yes, there is one last thing. Can you also, again in writing, attest to the fact that the Minister did not disparage Asian business culture in general or specifically anyone who works in that culture?”

“And if I can’t, is Ms. Simmons still prepared to sign the transfer?”

“I really don’t know,” he stumbled. “I was asked to make the request, and I have.”

“So it isn’t a condition?”

“You’ll have to take that up with Ms. Simmons.”

“Mr. Hawkins, tell whomever you are reporting to that I am prepared to forget both the Minister’s views on how business is conducted in Asia and the issue about the blind trust.”

“It is being requested that you put something in writing.”

“If something short and to the point is acceptable, I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you.”

“Is that it?”

“No, I have also been asked to inquire whether you need time to consult with anyone overseas or if you need to involve legal representatives from your side.”

“No.”

He paused, and she knew he hadn’t expected that answer.

“When do I meet with Lily Simmons?” Ava asked.

“I believe that may be possible today. Mr. McIntyre’s office is in Knightsbridge, just down the road from you.”

“What time?”

“I believe the plan is that, after I pass along my report of our conversation, either Ms. Simmons or Mr. McIntyre will call you directly.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Ms. Lee, I’d like to know…” Hawkins began awkwardly, and then stopped.

“Know what?”

“Actually… I’d like to know who you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I spent close to an hour with Daniel Anderson this morning. He’s a friend of my older brother, and it was Daniel who arranged for my appointment to Minister Simmons’s staff. He grilled me about your meeting with the Minister last night. I was honest with him — I’d like you to know that. I found the Minister’s comments about Mr. Ordonez to be completely inappropriate, and I confirmed to Daniel that they had indeed been uttered. He told me that the Prime Minister had a personal interest in the matter. I was taken aback. Who are you, to bring this about?”

“Is that Daniel Anderson asking or you?”

“Me. Daniel seemed to know.”

“Then you ask him,” Ava said, and then cut off the line.

Ava went directly to her bathroom to look at the cut. It was longer than she’d thought, maybe fifteen centimetres, but the wound was shallow. She washed her arm in cold water, smeared some Polysporin on it, and wrapped it tightly in gauze.

She walked back into the room and sat on the bed to phone Uncle.

“Did Ko call Li?”

Andrew Hawkins had driven Leung’s hired killers from her mind. “Eventually,” she said.

“Eventually? Did you have problems with them?”

“None worth mentioning.”

“Good. I am glad it is over.”

“Li conveyed his apologies.”

“I will thank him from my end. He is a useful man to keep close.”

“You’ll be happy to know that Lily Simmons has decided she wants to keep close as well. They used her father’s executive assistant as the middle man. He says she’s prepared to execute the transfer.”

“That is good news.”

“But it isn’t done yet. I came to London needing just one signature, and after everything I’ve gone through, I still need that one signature. I’m not taking it for granted.”

“Still, we see movement in the proper direction,” Uncle said, blunting his optimism.

“I’m told we’re probably going to meet sometime later today at her lawyer’s office. They’ll want me to sign for our side. Will Ordonez have a problem with that?”

“I cannot see him objecting.”

“Well, let’s make sure of that. Before I go to the lawyer’s office I’d like something in writing from Manila that authorizes me to sign on behalf of the Ordonez Group, and that binds them to honour whatever I do sign with regard to this debt.”

“What is involved?”

“For starters, Roger Simmons wants me to say that I misinterpreted our conversation last night. That nothing was said that violated the terms of the blind trust. And that I invented the remarks he made about Asian businessmen.”

“And he never said Tommy Ordonez was a piece of shit that cannot be shined?”

“I guess I made that up too.”

“What do you want me to get from Manila?”

“You’d better make it a blanket authorization. Have them fax it to me here at the hotel. And then have someone on standby in Manila in case Simmons’s lawyer wants to call to confirm its authenticity.”

“I will call Chang. He will be pleased.”

“I’ll call you when everything’s wrapped up, Uncle.” Ava hung up the phone, then leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes. She was trying to calm herself by taking deep breaths and visualizing bak mai moves when her phone rang. An incoming call — mcintyre cullen appeared on the screen.

“Ava Lee.”

“This is Loretta Michaels, from McIntyre and Cullen. Is four thirty a suitable time for you to meet with Mr. McIntyre and Ms. Simmons?”

“Yes.”

“Our offices are just off Knightsbridge Road. The eighth floor, 88 Ford Street.”

“Tell them I’ll be there.”

Ava called her travel agent and asked her to book a seat on the eight-o’clock Air Canada flight from Heathrow to Pearson. One way or another, she had a feeling she was going to be on it.

At four fifteen Ava was downstairs with her luggage. As she was checking out, the concierge handed her a fax from Manila. She reviewed the document on the limo ride to Knightsbridge and then slipped it into her Chanel purse.

She arrived five minutes early and was debating waiting in the car when she saw Lily Simmons approach the front doors of 88 Ford Street. She was wearing a black wool suit and carried a small black leather briefcase. Her hair was tangled and her shoulders slumped. Ava waited a few minutes before following her in.

“Wait for me,” she said to the driver as she was getting out of the car. “I shouldn’t be long.”

The lobby of McIntyre and Cullen was expansive. The white marble floor was complemented by a six-metre-long Persian rug. The dark wood-panelled walls showcased the rich forest green of the leather couches and chairs.

“You must be Ms. Lee,” the receptionist said, not unkindly.

“I am.”

“They’re expecting you,” she said. “Let me take you in.”

The boardroom was massive, its size accentuated by a nine-metre-long table with twenty red leather chairs. Sitting alone at the far end was Lily Simmons. She looked up at Ava. “They should be along in a minute,” she said.

“Is your father coming?” Ava asked, taking a seat halfway between Simmons and the door.

“No. Why would he?”