By the time they got to the lower tram station for the run up Victoria Peak, it was nine-thirty.

“And I was hoping we’d be early,” Tristan said.

Before they got out of the car, Tristan went over the instructions he’d given Bentley earlier, namely that Bentley was to drive to the peak and watch from a distance. If anything went amiss, Tristan would signal by running his hand through his hair twice. If Bentley saw that, he was to intervene as he saw fit. If everything went off without a hitch, Bentley would drive down to the dropoff point and wait for Marissa and Tristan to come down in the tram.

“Any questions?” Tristan asked the muscular Bentley.

“Just one,” Bentley said. “If you are involved with narcotics, please let me know.”

Tristan laughed. “No, we’re not involved with drugs of any kind.”

“I will be angry if you are not truthful,” Bentley said.

“I wouldn’t want you to get angry,” Tristan assured him.

The ride up in the red tram, which was really a funicular railway, turned out to be a delight. Quickly they left behind the concrete of Central and rose up into wooded slopes filled with bowers of jasmine, wild indigo, daphne, and rhododendrons. Even from the confines of the tram, they could hear magpies singing.

The peak itself turned out to be a disappointment. The morning mist still shrouded the mountaintop, and Marissa and Tristan could see nothing of the reputed view. The foliage, however, was quite beautiful, particularly the exotic trees still beaded with dew.

Trying to make their presence apparent, Marissa and Tristan circled the Peak Tower a number of times. The tower was a three-story shopping mall with restaurants, an ice cream stand, a drugstore, and even a supermarket. Marissa was intrigued by the stalls that sold Chinese handicrafts.

As they wandered, they kept an eye out for the three men who’d abducted them the day before. But they saw no one they recognized except Bentley. He’d arrived as directed. As agreed, he remained unobtrusively in the background. Neither he nor Tristan and Marissa exchanged so much as a nod.

By quarter after eleven, Tristan and Marissa were ready to give up.

“I suppose word of the to-do at the Peninsula got to them,” Marissa said.

“Damn,” Tristan said. “Now I don’t know what to do. We’re back to the beginning.”

Slowly they ambled back toward the upper tram station, feeling depressed. After such high anticipation, this was quite a letdown.

“Excuse me,” an elderly woman said, approaching them. She was wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat with black fringe. She’d been sitting on a bench near the tram entrance. “Are you Mr. Williams?” she asked.

“I am,” Tristan said.