“And you have control of the assets?”
“Yes,” she said, biting her lower lip.
“And the timing?”
She knew he was going to call Changxing Wong as soon as they hung up and that he was identifying the boundaries of what he could say. Knowing how cautious he was, she was sure he would fudge the amount she had given him even more: the ten percent would turn into twenty, maybe even thirty. He would also play with the timelines, and her two weeks would become three weeks or a month.
“Two weeks should see it done.”
He hesitated and she braced herself for more questions. Instead he asked, “Ava, would you like to call May Ling yourself and give her the news?”
“No,” she said, more quickly than she should have.
“They are too important for you to carry a grudge, and May Ling thinks very highly of you. She could be an important ally in the years ahead. I have told you, you need to build more bridges. It is all well and good while I am still active, but when I step aside, Ava, you need to have your own alliances — friends, guanxi.”
He said it slowly, carefully, and she knew he was speaking from love.
“Uncle, when you step aside, I step aside with you.”
“You are too young — ”
“Some things have nothing to do with age.”
“Ava, you know my religion is Tao.”
“Yes, I know.”
“May Ling is Taoist as well, and when we spoke of you, she said to me that the second she looked into your eyes she felt qi, life force, flow between you.”
“I’m not sure what that means, and right now I don’t have any interest in finding out.”
Uncle sighed. “I will phone Changxing tonight,” he said. “They have both been calling me, wondering about your progress. Regardless of your skepticism, they were tremendously impressed by the way you managed Edwin Hughes. Of course, they do not fully understand that gweilos do not have our sense of family. No Chinese of any character would do that to his brother.”
He had passed along her fax from Edwin Hughes’ office to the Wongs, she realized. It was unusual, and she felt unsettled. How close is Uncle getting to them? she thought. “Uncle, you gave them copies of the paperwork I sent you?”
“Yes,” he said.
Ava swallowed hard. “Well, when you speak with him tonight — with them — please ask that May Ling not call me. I am very serious about that.”
“I still think you are misjudging her,” Uncle said. “But I will tell her.”
It was just past seven o’clock in New York. Ava looked outside, hoping to see the sun, and there it was, its rays emanating like a personal invitation. She made herself a Starbucks VIA coffee, downed it quickly, put on her running gear, and headed downstairs.
She did a complete lap of the park, slowing down when she got to East 65th Street, thoughts of dropping in on Glen Hughes entering her mind. She decided against it and finished her run back to the hotel.
By nine Ava had called Gail and asked her to book a one-o’clock Air Canada flight back home to Pearson Airport. She emailed Mimi and her mother to let them know she was arriving that day, and that she’d call later. She wrote to Maria, I’m arriving this afternoon around 2:15 p.m. from New York on Air Canada. If you can meet me at the airport, that’s great. If you can’t, call me later at the apartment. Love, Ava.
She sat at the desk with her notebook. She laid out the gist of her agreement with Glen Hughes and then started making a list of loose ends, calls she had to make, promises that needed to be kept. There was a hotel in Dublin with twelve boxes in storage. Edwin Hughes and Helga Sorensen both deserved a call to calm their nerves. Then she thought of Nina, and just as quickly pushed the thought aside. If Ava was going to maintain her relationship with Maria, Nina would have to become a distant memory.
Back home, back to Toronto, she thought. It had been one hell of a week. And it wasn’t over; it wouldn’t be over until the money had found its way through Harrington’s to Liechtenstein to Uncle’s account in Hong Kong. Don’t start taking things for granted. Don’t be a jinx, she told herself. There are still so many things that could go wrong.
She called Glen Hughes, her mind still swimming in a pool of anxiety.
“Glen, it’s Ava Lee,” she said.
“My dear Ms. Lee, how nice to hear from you. I have to tell you, before you say anything, that was a wonderful dinner last night. I will be going back there again — under different circumstances, I hope.”
“I thought the meal was fine as well.”
“I also have to say that a friend of mine — a client, actually — was in the restaurant and saw us together. He’s insanely jealous. He called me this morning to find out who you are. He thought I was dating some Hong Kong starlet.”
“Tell him thank you.”
“You’re calling for an update, no doubt.”
“Exactly.”
“We’re bang on schedule. In about an hour, the Harrington’s team will be here to collect the paintings and send them to London. I spoke with our friend there last night, and he likes the idea of going private, even at a discount. He thinks it will be an efficient exercise. As for your time constraints, well, he thinks the deal can be concluded within ten days.”
“Mr. Hughes, I am impressed.”
“Coming from you, I assume that’s a compliment.”
“It is.”
“I appreciate it.”
“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If we can stay focused for ten more days the compliments will mean something more,” Ava said.
“Let me assure you, I am focused.”
“I’m leaving New York this afternoon, but you can email me or reach me at the phone number I gave you if the need arises.”
“Oh, I’ll call if it’s necessary,” Hughes said. “And actually, you might hear from our friend in London as well. I passed your number on to him. He said he was having a bit of an issue with one of his employees and might need to enlist your aid.”
“Frederick Locke?”
“He didn’t give me a name.”
It has to be Locke, Ava thought. What is he up to now?
“Does your friend want me to call him?” she asked.
“No, he says he’ll call you if he needs you.”
“Fair enough.”
“Ah, the Harrington van just pulled up in front of the house. I’m going to go and look after the boys,” Hughes said. “Safe journey.”
Ava packed her carry-on, placing the files in the bottom of the bag, the Steinum sweaters on top, and everything else jammed in between.
It was a half-hour cab ride to LaGuardia, and she was checked in and through security in fifteen minutes. Ava sat at the departures gate and watched CNN on an overhead television. She thought about turning on her laptop, but she was already in shutdown mode. She had just leaned her head back and closed her eyes when her cellphone rang. She was reaching for the phone to turn it off when she noticed the U.K. area code.
“Ave Lee,” she said.
“Ms. Lee, this is Sam Rice calling.”
His voice was a deep growl, made all the more distinctive by an accent she couldn’t quite place. “Mr. Rice, how are you?”
“I’ve been bloody better.”
“What’s the problem?”
