“No problem. All taken care of. Chen Chen will collect your things in morning, uh huh? Right now I fix some noodles for you and girl.”
“T.Y., she’s going to need a foreign passport. She’s in danger and I want to get her out.”
Woo frowned. “M will not like that.”
“Bad luck,” Bond said. “Sunni provided some valuable information and now we need to protect her. She damned near saved my life at that building. She’s one hell of a fighter.”
“I see what I can do,” Woo said.
Bond finished his vodka. Shirtless, Bond knocked on Sunni’s door. She said, “Come in.”
She was lying in a foetal position on a double bed in the sparsely furnished room. “Are you hungry, Sunni? T.Y. is making us some dinner.” She shook her head. Bond sat down on the bed beside her. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you a foreign passport. You’ll be able to stay here safely until you leave.”
“Where am I going?” she asked quietly.
“Where would you like to go?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really care.”
“Well, we’ll try England for starters, all right?”
She shrugged. The poor girl had been through a lot—the realization that she was marked for death by the Triad, the discovery of her dead mother, and the traumatic escape from her building—it was enough to make anyone a complete wreck. Sunni had a great deal of fortitude. Bond leaned over and kissed her cheek, then stood up and left her alone.
It was later, after they had eaten a delicious meal of noodles and chicken (Sunni decided to join them but ate very little), and had all retired to their respective beds, that Sunni slipped into Bond’s room.
He woke up when he felt her presence in the room. She was wearing a t-shirt and panties and stood barefoot by the bed, looking at him.
Without a word, he pulled the sheet down, offering her a place beside him. She slipped into the bed and snuggled next to him. Her body was warm and soft, and her legs felt smooth against his. They kissed, slowly at first, then with more passion as their desire increased. After a few minutes, she pulled off her t-shirt and pressed her breasts against his chest. She enjoyed the feel of the hair there, as she wasn’t used to it. Most Asian men lacked hair on their chests.
She opened up to him that night, over and over again. He filled her with strength and security, helping her achieve a release from the demons that had tormented her since the evening began. She needed the climaxes, for they allowed her to forget her troubles and lose herself in a floating world of ecstasy and passion. It was three or four hours later when, totally spent, they finally fell asleep in each other’s arms.
ELEVEN
SHOOTOUT IN KOWLOON
Royal Hong Kong Police say that two incidents of gunfire in public yesterday may be related. The first occurred in Tsim Sha Tsui East near the nightclub Zipper, where a twenty-two-year-old man was shot by an unknown assassin. A little over an hour later, at a residential building in Kwun Tong, seven men were found dead and two seriously injured. Two of the men were found shot in a flat owned by Sunni Pei, who is reported missing. Her mother, Pui-Leng Pei, was also found dead in the flat, but it is believed she died of natural causes. Police suspect Triad activity is behind the two incidents …”
The papers were full of yesterday’s news, for shootouts on the streets of Hong Kong were surprisingly uncommon. James Bond had made a point of examining SIS reports on the colony’s crime status before leaving England. According to these, Hong Kong was perhaps the most crime-free city in Asia. Gun control was very tight, and obtaining arms was difficult even for criminal organizations. The Royal Hong Kong Police was one of the most efficient forces in the world.
It was unfortunate that Sunni’s name and picture were prominently displayed in the paper. Now she would definitely be a target. It would be even more problematic getting her out of Hong Kong. At least Bond hadn’t been identified. Otherwise he would have had to listen to M blame it on him getting involved with “a tart.”
Bond put the news behind him and concentrated on the new task at hand. It was time for Guy Thackeray’s mysterious press conference.
EurAsia Enterprises’ corporate headquarters was located in a thirty-four-storey building in the heart of Hong Kong’s busy Central district. Nearby were such landmarks as the Bank of China Building, the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank Building, Jardine House, Government House, and Statue Square.
James Bond arrived for the press conference early, just in time to learn that the event had been moved to nearby Statue Square for reasons unknown. It was a beautiful day, if a bit hot and humid. Perhaps Thackeray thought an outdoor setting would be more pleasant. The square was nondescript for the most part, save for the statue of Sir Thomas Jackson, a former manager of the Hongkong Bank. There was a time when it had held several statues of British monarchs, but these had been removed long ago. A neoclassical domed building next to it housed the Legislative Council Chambers, the future of which would become uncertain in six days’ time. Folding chairs had been set up in a roped-off area, and security guards were checking the identification of reporters desiring a seat.
Bond showed his journalistic credentials to the security guard who found his name on a list and let him through. He sat in the second row, near the outside end. There was a microphone stand on a small platform in front of the seats. A table had been set up along the side and complimentary glasses of wine were available. Looking around him, Bond remembered that the transition ceremony between the British and the Chinese was to take place here at midnight on 30 June, in a little less than a week’s time.
About forty journalists were there, mostly from Hong Kong. There were a few Westerners present. One section of the audience was made up of EurAsia employees. From the look of them, they were the executives in charge of the company since the tragedy on the floating restaurant. They all looked apprehensive, not knowing what their CEO was about to announce to the world.
While waiting, Bond glanced up and admired the adjacent Hongkong and Shanghai Bank Building, popularly known simply as Hongkong Bank. It was one of the most striking pieces of architecture Bond had ever seen. Designed by the British architect Sir Norman Foster, its structure was based on the principles of bridge technology. Huge steel trusses were slung between two core towers, and the internal floors were suspended from these. Conventional support columns and concrete coverings had been avoided by using a special cladding of super-quality aluminum. The see-through walls thus revealed all the inner workings of the lifts, escalators, and offices. The entrance to the bank was from a large open plaza underneath the first floor of the building. Standing guard in the plaza were two bronze Imperial Chinese lions similar to those flanking most important Hong Kong doorways. Dubbed Stephen and Stitt after two former chief managers, the lions served as mascots for all Hong Kong.
At precisely 4:00 p.m., Guy Thackeray entered the square followed by two other men, who were obviously bodyguards. They stood to either side of him as he approached the microphone.
Thackeray looked even more haggard than he had in Macau. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept for days. He was dressed in a sharp Armani business suit, though, and managed to exude an air of authority.
“Hello and welcome,” he began. Bond again noted the lack of humour. There was no trace of a smile. “I have called this press conference to make an important announcement about EurAsia Enterprises. As you know, our entire Board of Directors was killed recently. There have been a couple of recent attempts on my life as well. I have no idea why we became targets. Unfortunately, it’s all had an effect on the company. Our privately held stock is at an all-time low. The future is uncertain, and I have no reason to believe that things will improve. Therefore, I am selling my family’s 59 per cent holding to the People’s Republic of China, effective July the first, 1997.”
There was a gasp from the crowd. Bond was surprised as well. The EurAsia executives had turned white and seemed dumbstruck.
“The remaining 41 per cent is owned by the families of the deceased members of the Board. Those shares
