She stopped and turned so that she was facing the wall and had a clear view of the two of them.
“This can be easy or hard — your choice,” the one to her left said, a knife now visible in his right hand.
Ava saw no reason to respond; the outcome would be the same. The other man didn’t seem to be armed, so she decided to take on the one with the knife first.
They inched towards her, trying to maintain equal distance. Ava moved left to bring her closer to the one with the knife. He waved it in the air until he was about half a metre from her. Then he reached down to grab her hair with his left hand, the knife held back, poised to strike.
She retreated backwards about half a step. When he tried to close the distance, she stepped forward. Her right arm rocketed towards him with the force of a piston. The extended knuckle of her index finger crashed into the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t sure which she noticed first, the crack of cartilage or the gush of blood. He sagged to the ground, dropping the knife as both hands moved to cradle his nose. She picked up the weapon and threw it over the wall.
The other man hadn’t moved as she put his friend out of action. Now he edged towards her, his fists balled. He didn’t move very well; his hips seemed to propel his legs. She knew she could avoid his swings but she wasn’t about to give him the chance. When he was within striking range, her right arm shot out again. This time she used the base of her palm to strike at the centre of his forehead. He reeled back and she leapt after him, her left fist driving into his Adam’s apple. He collapsed, his eyes rolled back, and his hands clutched his throat as he gasped for air. She had known people to die from that blow.
The whole incident had taken no more than thirty seconds. She looked around. There was no one in view, no cars on the road. She turned and began to jog back to the hotel, past the woman throwing sticks to her dog.
(22)
“How was your run?” the doorman asked when Ava arrived back at the Phoenix.
“Okay,” she said.
She had bought two bottles of water to take to her room. She didn’t recognize the brand and then saw it had been bottled in Georgetown. She added a water purification pill to each of them. When the pills had done their work, she sat in the rattan chair and looked out at the ocean. She was ready to phone Captain Robbins. She didn’t expect him to take her call, but she did expect him to return it. That was when she would be challenged to capture his interest and get him to meet with her, or at the very least to send someone who had his trust.
She punched in the number and waited. Just when she thought it was going to flip into voicemail, a woman’s rich, cultured voice said, “The office.”
“I would like to speak to Captain Robbins, please,” she said.
There was a long pause, and Ava wondered if Lafontaine had given her the correct number.
“I’m afraid that Captain Robbins is not available.”
“Well, could you have him return my call, please? My name is Ava Lee and I’m affiliated with Havergal College. Do you need me to spell Havergal?”
“No, I know Havergal,” she said. “Is there anything I can help you with, or is there a specific message you would like me to pass to the Captain?”
“No, I need to speak to him directly.”
“He has the number for the college. He can call you there.”
“No, I’m at a conference and I’m using my mobile. Let me give you my contact information,” Ava said, and gave her Toronto cellphone number.
“Is this about either of his daughters?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Please have him call me when he can.”
“I will pass on the message.”
Then Ava phoned downstairs to ask about laundry service. The front desk told her it could be back in her room by that evening. She left the bag outside the door for pickup and climbed into the shower. The water seemed less thick, less brown, and she stayed in longer than usual.
Her cellphone beeped when she emerged from the bathroom — a message. Already, she thought.
It was Captain Robbins’s receptionist, asking her to call back.
She dried her hair and dressed while reviewing her pitch in her head, deciding just how much she should or shouldn’t say. That was always difficult to determine when you were dealing with someone you didn’t know, and in this case, knew nothing about except that he just might be the most powerful man in Guyana.
“The office.”
“This is Ava Lee.”
“Just one second, Ms. Lee.”
Robbins was on the line almost instantly. “This is Robbins. What can I do for you?” He had an accent that sounded familiar but wasn’t like anything she had heard in Guyana.
“My name is Ava Lee and I’m afraid I’ve called you under some mildly misleading pretences. But I really need to speak to you and I was told that you’re a difficult man to get hold of.”
There was silence from his end.
“I am a Havergal graduate, by the way, and I’m in Georgetown on business, not Toronto, though that is my home. I apologize for taking this approach.” She waited for the sound of the phone being disconnected.
“Ms. Lee, who gave you this number?”
“The Canadian High Commission. I went to them for help and they said you were the man I should speak to.”
“That’s highly unusual. What kind of problem can you have that the Commission can’t help with?”
His voice was plummy, even richer than his secretary’s. His speech was slow, even, and full of confidence, in control.
“It’s a business problem with a considerable amount of money involved,” she said, invoking the magic word.
“And you think I can help?”
“I’ve been told that if anyone can, it’s you.”
“Someone thinks too highly of me. Still, it would be churlish not to try to assist a Canadian visitor recommended to me by the High Commission, and a visitor who happens to be a Havergal graduate at that. Where are you staying in Georgetown?”
“At the Phoenix.”
“This is obviously a discussion that we shouldn’t continue over the telephone. Are you going to be at the hotel this evening?”
“Certainly.”
“I’ll send someone there to meet with you. His name is Patrick West. I’m not sure when exactly he will be free, so try to leave the entire evening open if you can. I’ll give him your mobile number, and I know he has the Phoenix’s number, so if there’s any change in plans he can contact you.”
“Thank you so much.”
“No promises, mind you, but Patrick is a good man and quite resourceful. He has my confidence, so make sure you’re completely open with him.”
You clever girl, she thought as the line went dead.
The afternoon was going to drag, so Ava set out to fill it with as much activity as she could. She took a taxi back to Stabroek and wandered aimlessly for an hour. In an area close to the market she found a bookstore. Most of the offerings were second-hand but she found a copy of Tai-Pan, James Clavell’s historical novel about the early days of Hong Kong.
She was hungry but reluctant to experiment again with the local cuisine. The bookseller recommended the Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet just around the corner. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten fried chicken of any kind. Still, there weren’t many funny things they could do to it, so she decided to eat there.
Jeff was sitting in the lobby when she got back to the hotel. He waved to her. He was on the verge of becoming a nuisance.
“Are we in business today?” he asked.
“I have some things I need to do here,” she said. “You can help out, though.”
“How is that?”
“Go back to Malvern Gardens and keep tabs on Jackson Seto. You’ll have to park somewhere else this time or they’ll get suspicious. I think you should drive past the entrance and then turn the car around and park it in the direction of Georgetown. Stay about a hundred metres away. They shouldn’t notice you if they leave.”