Ian Hamilton: The disciple of Las Vegas

“I agree completely. I think that might be worth reiterating to your clients as well, particularly the one who isn’t in this room.”

At ten after five Ava left the Ford Street office and climbed into the waiting limo. “Can you take me to Heathrow?” she asked.

When they got to the international departures drop-off, Ava got her bags from the trunk, gave the driver a hundred-pound tip, and went directly to the Federal Express office to send the transfer request to the bank in Cyprus. As soon as she had the tracking number she called Hong Kong. It was just past one o’clock in the morning there, but she knew Uncle would be waiting.

“It’s done.”

“She signed?”

“Yes.”

“Any complications?”

“I almost lost my temper when they asked me to sign a document stating that I’d lied about what Simmons said about Ordonez.”

“Did they change it?”

“No. I signed it.”

“You did not have to,” Uncle said.

She knew he meant it. He never second-guessed her. That was part of the burden she carried — no matter how expedient she had to be, no matter what it cost them, even if she recovered nothing, he didn’t second-guess her.

“Yes, I did have to. It was the cost of doing business. He’s probably sent it to the Prime Minister’s Office already.”

“Not that that will do him any good; he already has a black mark next to his name. They may leave him where he is, but he is not going any further up the political ladder.”

“I can only hope that’s the case.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m at Heathrow. I’ve just sent the transfer request via FedEx to the bank in Cyprus. I’ll give you the tracking number to pass along to our bank. Have them follow it from their end; they should call the Cypriot bank to make sure the money is moved as quickly as possible.”

“I will look after it.”

“Thank you. I leave here at eight o’clock. I’m looking forward to getting home.”

“Ava, I know this was hard on you, doing two jobs back to back and then having Jackie Leung to deal with.”

“Uncle, I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I just want to get home.”

“There are times when you push yourself too hard.”

Ava had already begun to feel the truth of that statement on the limo ride from Ford Street to Heathrow. At first she had felt a sense of relief that it was over and that she’d recovered her client’s money. But that feeling was quickly overtaken by bone-aching exhaustion. The adrenalin that had driven her from Hong Kong to the Philippines to San Francisco, Vancouver, Victoria, Las Vegas, and London now gave in to too many flights, too many time zones, too much stress. She hadn’t thought about those things when she was on the hunt because she wouldn’t let herself. The focus was on getting from A to B, connecting the dots, pushing and driving, putting together the pieces until the final one fell into place.

“I did what I had to do,” she said.

“I should call Chang,” Uncle said. “He will want to tell Ordonez about your success.”

“Yes, you do that. I need to check in and make some calls too. Bye, Uncle.”

She sat in the Star Alliance lounge with her notebook open on her lap. It was eleven o’clock in the morning in Las Vegas and Vancouver and two in the afternoon in Virginia and Cooper Island. She thought about calling David Douglas, Maggie Chew, Jack Maynard, Martin Littlefeather, and Chief Francis. She thought about it, but she didn’t. Tomorrow, she said to herself. Or maybe the day after.

She went to the ladies’ washroom to change her clothes for the flight. In a cubicle with a full-length mirror, Ava stripped down to her underwear and looked at herself. The marks on her neck and shoulders had faded but the bruising on her hip and torso was a garish purple. She unwrapped the gauze on her arm and examined the cut. It had stopped bleeding, but she might need stitches. God, what a mess I am, she thought as she slipped a black Giordano T-shirt over her head.

Back in the lounge, she turned on her computer and connected to her email server. She sent brief messages to her mother, Marian, and Mimi, telling them she’d be back in Toronto the next day. As she scanned her other emails she saw one from Maria Gonzalez, inviting her out for dinner and dancing.

Dear Maria, she wrote, I’m looking forward to meeting you, but I think we should go for a coffee or something more casual. I’m flying back into Toronto tonight. We can discuss it in the next few days.

Ava had gone through the rest of her emails and was about to shut down the computer when one arrived from Mimi. Dim sum tomorrow?

Yes, Ava wrote back, just as a reply from Maria came through. What time does your flight arrive? she asked.

Ava hesitated, then wrote, 10:30, Air Canada from London.

Can I meet you at the airport? Maria wrote back a minute later.

I look like hell and I ache all over, Ava replied.

I’ll bring a hug.

Am I ready for this? Ava wondered. Then she read over their correspondence again and smiled. I can use a hug, she wrote. See you there.