“He has the number for the college. He can call you there.”
“No, I’m at a conference and I’m using my mobile. Let me give you my contact information,” Ava said, and gave her Toronto cellphone number.
“Is this about either of his daughters?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Please have him call me when he can.”
“I will pass on the message.”
Then Ava phoned downstairs to ask about laundry service. The front desk told her it could be back in her room by that evening. She left the bag outside the door for pickup and climbed into the shower. The water seemed less thick, less brown, and she stayed in longer than usual.
Her cellphone beeped when she emerged from the bathroom — a message. Already, she thought.
It was Captain Robbins’s receptionist, asking her to call back.
She dried her hair and dressed while reviewing her pitch in her head, deciding just how much she should or shouldn’t say. That was always difficult to determine when you were dealing with someone you didn’t know, and in this case, knew nothing about except that he just might be the most powerful man in Guyana.
“The office.”
“This is Ava Lee.”
“Just one second, Ms. Lee.”
Robbins was on the line almost instantly. “This is Robbins. What can I do for you?” He had an accent that sounded familiar but wasn’t like anything she had heard in Guyana.
“My name is Ava Lee and I’m afraid I’ve called you under some mildly misleading pretences. But I really need to speak to you and I was told that you’re a difficult man to get hold of.”
There was silence from his end.
“I am a Havergal graduate, by the way, and I’m in Georgetown on business, not Toronto, though that is my home. I apologize for taking this approach.” She waited for the sound of the phone being disconnected.
“Ms. Lee, who gave you this number?”
“The Canadian High Commission. I went to them for help and they said you were the man I should speak to.”
“That’s highly unusual. What kind of problem can you have that the Commission can’t help with?”
His voice was plummy, even richer than his secretary’s. His speech was slow, even, and full of confidence, in control.
“It’s a business problem with a considerable amount of money involved,” she said, invoking the magic word.
“And you think I can help?”
“I’ve been told that if anyone can, it’s you.”
“Someone thinks too highly of me. Still, it would be churlish not to try to assist a Canadian visitor recommended to me by the High Commission, and a visitor who happens to be a Havergal graduate at that. Where are you staying in Georgetown?”
“At the Phoenix.”
“This is obviously a discussion that we shouldn’t continue over the telephone. Are you going to be at the hotel this evening?”
“Certainly.”
“I’ll send someone there to meet with you. His name is Patrick West. I’m not sure when exactly he will be free, so try to leave the entire evening open if you can. I’ll give him your mobile number, and I know he has the Phoenix’s number, so if there’s any change in plans he can contact you.”
“Thank you so much.”
“No promises, mind you, but Patrick is a good man and quite resourceful. He has my confidence, so make sure you’re completely open with him.”
You clever girl, she thought as the line went dead.
The afternoon was going to drag, so Ava set out to fill it with as much activity as she could. She took a taxi back to Stabroek and wandered aimlessly for an hour. In an area close to the market she found a bookstore. Most of the offerings were second-hand but she found a copy of Tai-Pan, James Clavell’s historical novel about the early days of Hong Kong.
She was hungry but reluctant to experiment again with the local cuisine. The bookseller recommended the Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet just around the corner. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten fried chicken of any kind. Still, there weren’t many funny things they could do to it, so she decided to eat there.
Jeff was sitting in the lobby when she got back to the hotel. He waved to her. He was on the verge of becoming a nuisance.
“Are we in business today?” he asked.
“I have some things I need to do here,” she said. “You can help out, though.”
“How is that?”
“Go back to Malvern Gardens and keep tabs on Jackson Seto. You’ll have to park somewhere else this time or they’ll get suspicious. I think you should drive past the entrance and then turn the car around and park it in the direction of Georgetown. Stay about a hundred metres away. They shouldn’t notice you if they leave.”
“If they leave, I follow?”
“Only if you’re sure it’s okay. Keep well back. There aren’t that many places he can go anyway.”
“You want me to call you if anything happens?”
“Sure. Use the Guyana number you have for me.”
She checked her emails again before going upstairs. Still nothing from Seto.
Her backup cellphone was fully charged. She slipped the Guyanese SIM card into it and turned on the phone. She placed it and her regular mobile on the small table next to the rattan chair. She still had some hours to kill. Hopefully James Clavell would help.
(23)
It was dark when Ava was woken by a ringing phone. The Clavell book was open on her lap to page thirty. She looked at both her mobiles before she realized it was the hotel phone.
“Yes?” she said.
“Ava, this is Marc Lafontaine. I’m just finishing work and I’m still wondering if you would like to have dinner with me.”
She was still groggy from her nap and his name didn’t register at first. Then it clicked and she almost groaned. Half of her wanted to hang up and the other half realized she might need him again before this project was finished. “I can’t leave the hotel,” she said. “I have a meeting here tonight and I’m not sure of the time.”
“We can eat at the hotel. It’s not that bad.”
“All right, but if my appointment arrives while we’re eating I’ll have to leave.”
“I understand. I’ll see you in the lobby in, say, fifteen minutes?”
“Okay.”
She brushed her teeth using bottled water and then splashed some on her face. Her linen slacks were still presentable and she had a white cotton shirt she hadn’t worn yet. She thought about putting on makeup for her meeting with Patrick West, and then decided against it. The more innocent she looked, the better.
There was a bar and lounge beside the lobby. Marc Lafontaine was sitting at a table with a Carib beer and a bowl of peanuts in front of him. “Glad you could join me,” he said. “We don’t get many Canadians coming through here, and truthfully it gets pretty lonely. I’m grateful for the company.”
She knew he meant it, and she felt a twinge of guilt for having thought about blowing him off.
He looked at the two cellphones as she placed them on the table. “Busy girl, eh?”
“I’m trying to be. I managed to get in touch with Captain Robbins and I’m scheduled to meet one of his people here tonight at some time or another.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! You actually got through to Robbins?”
