easy part. There were still so many things that could go wrong. All it would take was one small doubt on his part and the words “I really do need to talk to Mr. Seto” and all the scheming in the world wouldn’t do her much good. Why did I think this was going to work? she thought. She shook her head, caught herself, and rubbed her eyes. It was becoming a struggle to stay in the moment. There were all the things that could go wrong with Bates, and then of course there was Robbins. Had she overplayed her hand by calling Uncle? No, she told herself, she at least had a backup plan now, and Uncle never failed her. The thought of Uncle reminded her of Tommy Ordonez. Uncle hadn’t had a chance to mention him during their talk, thank God, but now he intruded into her mind — the jinx that lingered. She pushed him away.
One thing at a time, she thought. Get off the chair. Walk to the door. Open it.
There was no one in the hallway, but she could see an open door halfway down the hall and hear Bates’s voice saying, “That looks just fine.” She turned and went back to her seat, her spirits improved already.
Bates wasn’t far behind her, the file folder in one hand, a clutch of papers in the other. “Here we go,” he said, putting the papers on the table in front of her. “I had everything done in triplicate. One set for Mr. Seto and you and two sets for me.”
Ava leafed through the documents. The two draft wire transfer requests looked perfect. All they needed was Seto’s signature. They had copied his passport, Hong Kong ID card, and Washington state driver’s licence. That meant fifteen signatures. She tried not to think about how difficult that would be.
“I’m hopeful I’ll be able to get these back to you within the next few hours,” she said.
“Ms. Lee — ”
“Please call me Ava.”
“And I’m Jeremy,” he said with a slight smile. “What I was about to say, Ava, is that it would be ideal if Mr. Seto could accompany the documents in person.”
The fact that she was prepared for the request didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Jeremy, I’ll obviously do everything I can to make that happen. I just can’t predict what kind of shape he’s going to be in.”
“Well, we can wait, you know,” he said. “This doesn’t have to be done today.”
“Yes, it does,” Ava said matter-of-factly. “We can’t miss the closing. If we miss the deadline, the Chinese will see it as a sign of weakness. We’ll be forced into yet another round of negotiations and will probably face a higher cost.”
“This is quite difficult. From my end, I mean,” he said.
There was no threat in his tone, just a kind of sad resignation, but to Ava the message was clear enough. Jeremy Bates had drawn his banker’s line in the sand. No Seto, no money. She knew from Bates’s side that it was the right thing to do, and the only thing that gave her any comfort was the subtle way in which he had chosen to tell her. She respected him for his tact, and at heart she respected the fact that he wasn’t willing to discard his sense of duty — even for her. “I’ll get Jackson out of bed and over here if I have to carry him myself,” she said.
“That would be best, Ava,” he said.
She gathered the papers together and put them in her Chanel bag. “Well, I guess I should get going.”
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” he said, standing up.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist,” Bates said.
They walked side by side, Bates more awkward than she. “Where are you staying, by the way?” he asked.
“The Guildford Apartments.”
“Nice.”
“Yes, nice enough.”
“When do you leave?”
“If we wrap up today, then tomorrow.”
He pushed the elevator button for her. “Now, would you let the bank buy you and Mr. Seto dinner tonight?”
“I can’t imagine he’ll be up to it.”
“Then how about just you and me?” he said, not missing a beat.
“I would like that very much.”
He paused, his eyes wandering away from her. “You’ll call me, I trust, when Mr. Seto has signed the documents. We can arrange another appointment then. My afternoon is quite open, so there won’t be any delay on my end.”
“I’ll call,” she said.
“Excellent, and when you do, we can confirm a place and time for dinner.”
“Of course,” Ava said, with more enthusiasm than she felt.
The elevator was still hot and still slow, but her mind was preoccupied with signatures and the very unconscious Jackson Seto.
The Crown Victoria was where she had left it, with Davey in the front seat, window open, bobbing his head to the sound of Neil Diamond’s “Cracklin’ Rosie.” It made Ava think of Bangkok and Arthon. How long ago was that? And what was up with all the Neil Diamond? Robbins was sleeping, his head flung back, his mouth wide open. As she stood on the sidewalk she could smell the aroma of fresh bread coming from a bakery across the street. She suddenly felt hungry and realized she had eaten only a bag of almonds since noon the day before. She looked up and down the street and spotted a fish-and-chip restaurant a few doors down from the bakery.
She walked to the front passenger side of the car and stuck her head in the window. “I’m going to eat at that fish-and-chip place. If he wakes up, tell him where I am,” she said to Davey, and then turned and left before he had a chance to say a word.
The restaurant was plainness itself — linoleum floor, plastic chairs and tables — but it was clean, and the smell of cooking oil was muted. “I’m surprised you’re open,” Ava said to a tall, skinny man dressed entirely in white.
“Cruise ship docks in about half an hour. We’ll get swamped.”
She scanned the menu, her fish-and-chip experience limited to the occasional after-club foray with Mimi and Good Fridays with her mother and Marian when the girls were small. She couldn’t remember whether haddock or halibut was the premium choice, so she asked.
“Take the halibut,” he said.
“With chips and gravy,” Ava said.
“Mushy peas?”
“Why not?”
She felt a touch guilty when the plate was put in front of her. Loading up on grease was something — Guyana and KFC aside — she rarely did voluntarily. Now she put malt vinegar and salt and pepper on the fish and chips. A dollop of tartar sauce went on one side of the plate and ketchup on the other. She cut into the fish, the batter golden brown and surprisingly light, slathered a piece in tartar sauce, and ate it. The fish melted in her mouth.
Ava ate quickly, but she was still only halfway through the meal when the front door opened and Robbins lurched in. His eyes danced around the restaurant as if he were expecting to see something other than her sitting at a table. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice husky with sleep.
“What does it look like?”
“You should have asked.”
“You were sleeping.”
His hand went to his head. Ava turned her attention back to her food, not wanting a glimpse of his fingers sliding in the furrows. But the vision was already in her head. She ate a few more chips, a sliver of fish, and a forkful of bright green mushy peas, then put her utensils down. “That really was excellent,” she said to the man behind the counter.
He nodded as if he was used to hearing such compliments.
As she left the restaurant she said to Robbins, “I need to find a place where I can make some copies of documents.”
Davey had moved the car to in front of the fish-and-chip shop. Ava climbed in. “I need to make some photocopies,” she repeated.
Davey looked back at Robbins. “Go to Quickie Copy,” Robbins said.
