He went to the door of Mr. Luk's office and asked if he could use a phone.
"Certainly. There is a telephone next to the back wall in the conference room. Do you need a directory?"
"Yes, please," Burke said. He took the directory back into the conference room and looked up the number of the Causeway Bay Business Centre.
"Is this Miss Amy Lee?" he inquired when a girl answered.
"No, this is Winnie Chu. Miss Lee is not here today."
"Do you know where I might reach her?"
The girl hesitated a moment. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Burke didn't like the sound of it. He thought he detected an odd quality in her voice. "I really need to talk with Miss Lee. It's rather urgent."
"I'm afraid I don't know where she is," the girl said with a quiver in her voice. He was certain of the sound now. It bore the unmistakable mark of fear. "She hasn't been here for the past two days. There's no answer at her apartment. It's not at all like her. We're terribly concerned. Are you a friend?"
"Not really, but a business colleague of mine was to talk with her Monday afternoon. I wanted to ask her about it."
"Maybe he was the gentleman who was to come by her place that evening. I worked for her Monday afternoon because she had to attend a meeting. Could you talk to him and ask if she was all right that night?"
He didn't want to alarm her further with the full, shocking truth, so he told her only part of it. "He isn’t where I can reach him now. By the way, where is Miss Lee's apartment located?"
"She lives at Shau Kei Wan, at the eastern end of the island."
Shau Kei Wan. Sam Allen had said the accident occurred near Shau Kei Wan. Quinn had to have been either on his way to see Amy Lee or just leaving there. The next question was crucial.
"Miss Chu, do you recall if anyone else inquired about Miss Lee's whereabouts Monday afternoon?"
"I don't remem… wait. Of course. Your friend's name was Charles, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Logan Charles."
"A gentleman called and asked if Mr. Charles had been here. I told him he was to see Miss Lee that evening. I remember it because he had to repeat the question several times. He had an accent so strong that I found it quite difficult to understand him."
"Do you have any idea what kind of accent it was?"
"No. I'm no good at that. It wasn't anything I'd heard around here, though. Could it have had anything to do with Amy's disappearance?"
"Not likely," Burke said, hoping to close the book on Logan Charles. "Thank you for your help, Miss Chu. I hope she turns up soon."
But he knew if Miss Lee turned up soon, it would probably be in one of the numerous bays that dotted Hong Kong's winding shoreline. Now he felt certain the Bulgarians had ambushed Quinn, poured whiskey in his car and run it off the road. How they had managed the high alcohol level in his blood was another matter. There had to be a reasonable explanation, but for the moment it completely eluded him. They must have gone back to Amy Lee's to cover their tracks and silence the only other voice who could identify Emerson Dinwiddie.
He walked back to Mr. Luk's office to return the phone book.
"Mr. Quinn thought you might want to take some of the money with you now." The banker gave him a passive look.
"Yes," Burke said without hesitation. "I'd like to draw out twenty thousand dollars."
"U.S. or Hong Kong?"
"U.S. Five thousand in cash, the rest in a cashier's check."
Mr. Luk nodded. "I believe your currency regulations require banks to file a report with the government on any transactions of that size. Would it be more convenient for me to give you three cashier's checks for five thousand each?"
Burke smiled. Mr. Luk knew his business. "That would be fine, thank you. Will there be any problem taking the money out of Hong Kong?"
"Oh, no. Hong Kong has no restrictions on currency, bringing it in, or taking it out."
It was eleven-thirty when he left the bank. He was to meet Lori for lunch at the swank Hong Kong Hilton at noon. The hotel was only a few blocks away. He had put Quinn's letter in a large manila envelope from the bank. In addition to the letter, it bulged with hundred-dollar bills and cashier's checks. He rarely carried much cash, being a firm believer in the convenience and expense-tracking ability of credit cards. It left him feeling like a Brink's courier without benefit of a sidearm or an armored vehicle. He stuck the envelope inside his shirt, sliding one end beneath his belt. He stopped at the first shop he came to that sold attaché cases, choosing a thin, compact model, to which he quickly transferred the envelope.
He found Lori waiting in the noisy lobby of the Hilton. Despite the grief mirrored in her solemn face, she stood out like a swan amidst a flock of geese. That was the comparison that struck him as he saw the swan design sewn into the top of her simple pink dress. She had sought to cheer herself by buying a new outfit, and he acknowledged that on her it appeared positively regal. He watched as passing men cut their eyes in her direction. Self-consciously, he wondered if he might not have the look of a high school swain about to pick up his date for the prom.
She spotted the attaché case. "You must have done lots of banking."
He had known he would have to tell her about the letter. It provided answers to too many of her questions. But should he give her the whole story? "It's a bit complicated," he said with a soft smile, "but I'll try to explain."
"Then do it over lunch. I don’t feel much like eating, but I’ll try a salad." It was clear that his appearance had begun to relax her. A friendly face, a sympathetic ear could work wonders. Getting past the ordeal at the consulate also seemed to have removed a heavy weight from her shoulders. "Nothing dampened Dad’s appetite, but this has been a little too much for me."
"He was counting his calories over here."
She glanced up, frowning. "How would you know that?"
It had slipped out without consideration of the consequences. He took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He wasn't really prepared to go into the whole thing now. “Let’s get a table and order, then I’ll give you all the details.”
After they were seated, checked the menu and ordered, Lori folded her hands on the table and stared at him.
"Cam wrote me a letter," Burke said.
"A letter? Why? Who gave it to you?" Her voice had begun to rise and people at the next table looked around.
"Cool it, Lori. This isn't the place to go into it. Suffice it to say he left it for me at the bank."
"You knew he would, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?"
Now he was on the defensive. "When we left your house the other night, he told me what to do if anything happened to him. I joked about it. I thought he was being overly dramatic. But he was dead serious, and told me so in no uncertain terms."
She leaned over the table, elbows propped up, chin resting on her hands, probing him with a chilly stare. "What did the letter say? Was it about the case you were working on?"
"Primarily, yes. He told me what had happened here, what he had found out, what he planned to do. He knew I wouldn't be reading the letter unless something had happened to him, so he told me what he thought I should do now."
"He wanted you to continue with the case?"
"Yes. And I plan to." His voice mirrored his determination as he added, "I found out something else, Lori. I'm damned near certain Cam was murdered."
"What makes you so sure?"