‘But you think there could be validity to Wol Pot’s story?’
‘I didn’t say that. It’s all part of the equation. When I figure out what X is, I’ll let you know the answer.’
Sloan chuckled. ‘Playing ‘em close to the vest, huh? Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you don’t trust me anymore,’ he said sarcastically.
‘Now, why wouldn’t I trust you, Harry? Your stock-in- trade is deceit. Murder and lying are your profession. And you double-crossed me. What’s not to trust?’
Hatcher paused and took a swig of coffee. He had told Sloan only what he had to tell him. I{e had left out some things, like the note left at the Wall in Washington to Polo from Jaimie, whoever Jaimie was. And the reference to Thai Horse, which could mean only one thing to Hatcher
— heroin. Ninety-nine pure China White from the Golden Triangle. But he wasn’t about to throw that out yet. Sloan was far too interested in why Cody ‘was hiding. It was setting off all kinds of danger signals in Hatcher’s head. Hatcher knew exactly what Sloan was thinking at that moment. He was thinking, If Cody is into some really bad shit, it would be easy to eliminate the problem. To Sloan, termination was an easy solution for any problem. But he never said it out loud. He always left the dirty words unsaid.
Sloan threw off the towel and started getting dressed.
‘We’ll go into Bangkok and see what we can turn up,’ he said, slipping on olive drab boxer shorts and an undershirt.
But Porter’s death and the possible disappearance of Wol Pot had put a new wrinkle on the mission. Now Hatcher’s mind was working in other directions, searching for options.
‘I’ll meet you there in a day or two,’ he told Sloan. ‘I’ve got some things I want to check out here.’
‘Such as?’
‘I’ll let you know that when I’m through.’
Sloan started to tie his tie. There was a knock on the door.
‘Christ, now what!’ Sloan said.
TRIADS
A tail man, arrow-straight, with a sculptured handlebar mustache was standing in the doorway. He wore a spotless white linen suit. Hong Kong cop, thought Hatcher. He had the air.
‘Colonel Sloan?’ he asked. His British accent was sharp enough to hone a knife on.
‘Yes?’
‘Sergeant Varney, sir, Hong Kong police.’ He showed his credentials.
‘A pleasure,’ Sloan said in his most diplomatic tone. ‘Come on in, what can I do for you?’
Varney entered the room as if he were reporting to the Queen, almost sniffing the air. He smiled stiffly at Hatcher. ‘And you must be Mr Hatcher,’ he said, offering his hand.
‘Uh-huh,’ Hatcher said. They shook hands. Varney strode to the balcony door, checked the view, and turned around with his arms behind his back.
‘I’m with the Commonwealth Triad Squad,’ he said. When neither Sloan nor Hatcher responded, he went on. ‘Things’ve changed a lot in the last six, seven years. I thought I might offer a hand should you need it. I happened to recognize your names when they appeared on our computer yesterday.’
‘Computer?’ Hatcher asked.
‘We run a computer check against the airport list. Routine, y’know, try to keep tabs on who’s coming and going. I was going to give you a call and then Colonel Sloan showed up, so I decided to touch in with you both.’
Hatcher said. ‘That’s real thoughtful, Sergeant. But our business here has nothing to do with the triads.’
‘Yes, sir, but considering your past experience with the Silk Dragons and the White Palms, we just thought we might extend the courtesy of the force, so to speak.’
‘I don’t think I’ll be needing it,’ Hatcher said, staring at Sloan again. ‘The colonel’s leaving today and I plan to be out of here tomorrow or the next day.’
‘Yes, sir, that’s jolly good,’ Varney said. He paused for a moment as if to pick the right words, stretching his neck and ruffling his shoulders. The sergeant had more ticks than a south Georgia hound. ‘It’s just that — I think I should advise you, sir — while you are here, you could be in considerable danger. We’d like you to know we’ll extend the full courtesy of the department to you. Perhaps’ — he paused another moment, pursing his lips before going on — ‘you might like an escort.’
‘I know the town just fine,’ Hatcher’s whispery voice crackled.
‘Yes, yes, of course, but —‘
Hatcher cut him off. ‘Look, Sergeant, I never had any dealings with the White Palms, and as far as I know, the Silk Dragons are history.’
Sloan jumped in. ‘That’s the point, Hatch, the Silk Dragons may be history, but the White Palms kind of.
uh . . .‘ Sloan stalled for a moment.
‘Permit me,’ Varney said. ‘After White Powder Mama
