Walking directly to the elevators, Ned pushed the Up button. Things were going smoothly. So far he was pleased. He anticipated giving Lester a call in about fifteen minutes. He was looking forward to the substantial bonus Lester had promised him for a job well done.

By the time the elevator doors opened on the sixth floor, Ned’s pulse was racing. Despite his conscious attempts to keep himself calm, when he got this close to action, he got tense.

Familiar with the customs of Hong Kong luxury hotels, Ned waited by the elevator once he was on the sixth floor. He gave the hall porter a chance to approach from his cubicle. Ned smiled broadly. “Hello, friend,” he said in Cantonese.

The hall porter was an elderly Chinese. He smiled weakly, confused as to who this man could be. He wasn’t expecting any new guests that morning.

“I have a present for you,” Ned said. He handed the man a thousand dollars Hong Kong.

The man’s toothless jaw dropped.

Ned smiled again. “I need you to help me for a moment,” he said. “I want you to open my sister’s door. 604. It’s her birthday.”

Slipping the bills into his pocket, the hall porter led Ned down the corridor to 604 with a shuffling gait. He was about to knock, but Ned grabbed his arm before his fist hit the door.

“No,” Ned said. “It’s a surprise.”

The porter nodded, then fished in his pocket for his keys. Selecting the proper one, he slipped it into the lock.

As the porter pushed in the key, Ned glanced up and down the corridor. Then he reached behind his back and extracted the long-barreled gun.

The door opened a crack. The porter started to step aside, but Ned put his hands on the man’s back and shoved him forward with as much force as he could muster. The porter’s body collided with the partially open door, pushing it open with a bang. The porter sprawled head first on the carpet inside the room.

Instantly, Ned leaped into the room. He dropped the flowers and held the Heckler and Koch in both hands, elbows locked. His quarry was sitting on the bed with light from the window backlighting his sandy blond hair.

From Ned’s position, looking down the sights of his automatic pistol, Tristan Williams looked confused as he sprang to his feet. Ned shot him twice in the forehead, just above the eyes. The gun made only a spitting noise. Tristan went backward over the bed. It was easy as pie.

Wheeling around, Ned looked for the Blumenthal woman. She wasn’t in the room. Then he noticed the open connecting door. From within, he could hear the sound of water running.