“Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll let us ride in the trunk,” Tristan teased.

Marissa smiled. How Tristan could keep his sense of humor through all this was beyond her.

After they finished their meal, they pushed the table aside and returned to the chairs by the window. Marissa sipped the remains of her wine while Tristan enjoyed another can of Foster’s Lager the hotel had managed to find for him.

Marissa’s thoughts had drifted back to the incident in the lobby. “If that Chinese man downstairs was the same one who threw the chum in the water back in Australia, then he must be in the employ of Female Care Australia.”

“That’s what I assumed,” Tristan said.

“They must really want us out of the way. They must be desperate, especially to try to shoot us in public like that. With Wendy they went to great pains to make it look like an accident.”

“The irony is they must think we know more than we do,” Tristan said. “If I were they and I knew how little we know, I wouldn’t bother with us.”

“Maybe they’re not as afraid of what we know as what we could find out,” Marissa sighed. “I wonder how he tracked us down.”

“That’s another good question,” Tristan said.

“Maybe we should change hotels.”

“I don’t think it would make much difference,” Tristan said. “This city seems to have an information underground. Take the proprietor of that tea shop, for instance; obviously he let the Wing Sin know we were there. I bet that if we change hotels, it wouldn’t remain a secret, not for long. At least here the security people are on the alert and will recognize the fellow who tried to attack us if he tries to come back.”

“And we’ll have to be very careful,” Marissa said, “especially tomorrow morning when we rendezvous with the man in the white suit.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Tristan said. “I think we can assume that his loyalty will lie with whoever pays him the most squeeze. We might have to take more than the agreed-upon ten thousand Hong Kong.”

“Can you afford this, Tris?” Marissa asked. Tristan laughed. “It’s only money,” he said.

15
April 19, 1990
8:47 A.M.

Dressed in his Sunday best and carrying a bouquet of flowers, Ned Kelly walked along Salisbury Road taking in the sights. He’d been to Hong Kong on a number of occasions. As always, he enjoyed the colorful scenery. He’d gotten in late the night before and had stayed at the Regent Hotel, thanks to Charles Lester. Ned had never stayed in such luxurious accommodations. His only regret was that he’d arrived so late, he’d not been able to take advantage of any of the sizzling nightlife the Tsim Sha Tsui had to offer.