But once the hotel doors closed behind them, the world changed again. The huge lobby with its gilded ceiling was decorated in a restrained yet luxuriant fashion with only a hint of Oriental flavor. The most disturbing sounds were those caused by high-heeled shoes clicking against the polished marble floor. The melodious sound of a grand piano added to the elegant atmosphere.

The check-in procedure was accomplished with minimum confusion. They left their passports with the receptionist. A manager accompanied them up to their connecting rooms on the sixth floor. At Tristan’s insistence, he unlocked the connecting doors. Tristan said that there’d be no taking chances; he wanted ready access in case of any trouble.

Marissa joined Tristan at the window. They had a sweeping view of Hong Kong Harbor, which was filled with boats of every description and size. Tristan pointed out the green and white ferries that were passing each other in their runs to and from Hong Kong Island across the way. There were junks and sampans with graceful butterfly sails. Lighters were moored against the freighters anchored in the middle of the channel. Highly varnished launches sped through the choppy waters. Even a huge cruise ship was slowly edging its way into its berth at the ocean terminal.

The luggage quickly followed. Tristan tipped the bellman, who silently bowed and exited, closing the door behind him.

“Well!” Tristan said, rubbing his hands together. “Here we are in Hong Kong. How do you like it so far?”

“I can see what you meant when you described it,” Marissa said. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”

“How about a little refreshment before dinner?” Tristan suggested. Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the phone and called room service. He ordered beer.

“None for me,” Marissa called before Tristan had hung up. She’d had enough beer in Australia to last her for some time.

“Change that to champagne,” Tristan said into the phone. “Two glasses.”

Marissa was about to object, but Tristan had already hung up.

“I’m not in much of a festive mood,” she said.

“Come on now, Marissa,” Tristan said, stretching out on the bed. He tossed his hat like a saucer into an easy chair. “You have to lighten up a touch. You should enjoy yourself as well. There’s no harm in it.”

With Wendy’s horrid death still on her mind, Marissa hardly felt she should be expected to enjoy herself. “I want to get down to business,” she said. “How are we going to contact the Wing Sin Triad? What’s our first step?”

There was a soft knock on the door before Tristan could reply. He leaped from the bed and threw the door wide open. A waiter with white gloves bowed and entered. He was carrying a tray with a champagne cooler and two long-stemmed glasses.