(8)
It was almost 9 a.m. by the time Ava got to the airport and began the slow, torturous process of getting to the boarding gate. She had planned to go to the first-class lounge before her flight, but by the time she got through security there was only fifteen minutes before departure, so she went directly to her gate. She turned on her cellphone to call Uncle and saw that he had left two messages. She chastised herself for not calling him earlier.
“Uncle, I’m sorry,” she said when he answered his phone. “I left the hotel early this morning and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You worried me,” he said softly. “Where are you?”
“At the airport. I’ve located Jim Cousins. I’m on my way to talk to him.”
Even over the phone she could hear his breathing change, his spirits rise. “Good God, so soon. Even for you, Ava, this is fast.”
“I was lucky, and if my luck holds he’ll be exactly where I think he is.”
“Where?”
“In an apartment in San Francisco.”
“How did you do it?”
“That doesn’t matter. You can tell Chang if you want, but it might be wise to wait until I actually get there and confront him.”
“I think he should know.”
“No promises, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just because I’ve located Cousins doesn’t mean he’ll be there. And even if he is, it doesn’t mean we’re any closer to recovering the money. So be careful about what you say. Don’t let them draw the wrong conclusion.”
“Where is the money?”
“I have no idea,” she half-lied.
She could sense his doubt — he knew she wasn’t telling him everything. “When you find out, call me in Hong Kong. I am going to fly back today after meeting with Chang and Ordonez,” he said.
“I will,” she promised. The call for first-class passengers to board the plane came over the PA. Ava was guided to her seat by a series of flight attendants. When she had settled in with a cup of coffee in hand, she reviewed her notes, trying to make sense of the information Johnny Yan had given her. Aside from the fact that all the money had gone to Costa Rica, the amounts and the recipients and the banks seemed to be almost completely random. The same wasn’t true for the three and a half percent that had found its way into Jim Cousins’ bank account. It was obviously for services rendered, but what services?
She sat up straight and gingerly stretched her arms. Her shoulder still ached, and a combination of wine, Tylenol, and the comfort of the Peninsula’s bed hadn’t blunted the pain. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the documents Chang had sent early that morning. The detectives’ report was long on verbiage and short on substance. Maybe they’re getting paid by the word, she thought. Most of it focused on Cousins. They had come up dry at the bank and had run into a brick wall with the lawyer, who wouldn’t breach his trust.
She shorthanded the information on Cousins into her notebook. Calgary born, educated at the Southern Alberta Institute of Technology. Worked in the Alberta oil fields, Saskatchewan oil fields, Texas oil fields, and Indonesian oil fields, then back to the northern Alberta tar sands. No wife. No kids. No mention of Kelowna until just over six months ago. He had arrived there out of nowhere, and then he was gone.
The people in Kelowna who met him had thought he was a cowboy and a gentleman. Cousins didn’t seem to have a job but he paid his rent on time, and most nights he dropped a couple of hundred dollars at the local casino without getting bent out of shape. He didn’t drink, do drugs, or do women. He paid his taxes and had no criminal record. He also had no credit cards, which must have complicated the detectives’ work no end, since credit card usage was their favourite trail. They had included a copy of his passport and several photos with the report. She took them out and slipped them into the back of her notebook. The rest of their work went into the garbage.
Ava turned to the file on Kelowna Valley Developments. The company had been incorporated in British Columbia just before Jim Cousins arrived in Kelowna. He was listed as president. The work had been done by the law firm of McDougal, Fraser, and Ling. The registered owner was a B.C. numbered company and the shares in the numbered company were held in trust by Edward Ling. The law firm’s offices were in the Pacific Tower in downtown Vancouver. Edward Ling was listed as a senior and founding partner.
Ava put her notebook away and reclined her seat. She needed to take a break. She searched for a movie to watch and found Wong Kar Wai’s classic In the Mood for Love. It was a slow and introspective story about unrequited love, starring two of Hong Kong’s most famous actors, Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung. Ava wasn’t accustomed to seeing Leung in anything but action movies, but he held her interest, although not as much as Cheung, who, long and languid and dressed in the most exquisite cheongsams, stole every scene she was in.
Ava fell asleep as Leung and Cheung misconnected for the last time. When she woke, the plane was less than an hour outside San Francisco, where, she hoped, she would find her next target.
(9)
She had been to San Francisco twice before, once on a job and the second time with a lover who wanted her to see the gay scene’s Mecca. Unfortunately Mecca was too out there for Ava, and the trip went badly. She flew home early, and alone.
It was a grey, dismal day, promising rain. Driving a silver Audi A6 she had rented at the airport, Ava exited the highway and started to work her way through Japantown and the Fillmore area to Lower Pacific Heights. She was impressed by how attractive the city looked, even in such gloomy weather. The twisting, climbing streets were lined with trees; colourful, quirky storefronts; and rows of red-brick Victorian-style houses.
She turned onto Post Street, which was mostly apartment buildings, and parked the car at the end of the road. She looked at herself in the rear-view mirror and realized she was a bit dishevelled from the flight. She brushed her hair back and fixed it with the ivory chignon pin, retouched her makeup, and smoothed out the front of her shirt, tucking it into her slacks. Presentable, professional, she thought.
The doorman smiled at her when she was still twenty paces away. He was positively beaming by the time she reached the entrance. “Hello, my name is Ava Lee. I called yesterday about viewing one of the apartments. Could you ask the rental office if they have time to show me a unit?”
He called inside on his walkie-talkie. Ava heard a woman’s voice answer that she was in a meeting and hoped Ms. Lee wouldn’t mind waiting. The doorman looked at Ava, his eyebrows raised.
“I have a colleague staying here — Jim Cousins. I could visit with him for a while. Could you ask if that’s okay?” she said.
“Certainly,” the woman said. “Mr. Cousins is in apartment 306. Tell Ms. Lee to come by my office on the ground floor when she’s ready.”
This is too easy, Ava thought as she walked through the door and into the building.
She felt a touch of nerves as she approached apartment 306. This was the time when expectations gave way to reality. If he was home she hoped he would be reasonable, if not accommodating. But she was prepared for just about anything. Over the years she had experienced everything — shouting, cursing, crying, threats, even physical attacks.
She knocked on the door and waited. Nothing. She knocked again and counted to twenty. She was about to turn and leave when the door opened. Jim Cousins stood in front of her, his hair tousled and pillow creases stamped on his cheek. He was taller than she had expected, definitely over six feet, and more handsome. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt that failed to hide his strong, lean physique. “Can I help you?” he said, not unkindly.
“Mr. Cousins, my name is Ava Lee.”
“I’m sorry, am I supposed to know you?”
“No, but I know you. I’ve been sent by the Ordonez organization to have a chat with you about the Kelowna Valley Developments project.”
