“Did you send instructions by computer for my $300,000?”
“I did.”
“Are they still in your system?”
“They are.”
“Well, when you’re ready to send new instructions, show the old ones to Jack and then follow the exact same routine. He’ll be watching, of course.”
“Of course. One other thing, Captain — something I do have to ask. What happens if, even with my best efforts, I can’t convince the bank manager to release Seto’s money?”
“That’s not the outcome I expect.”
“You have too much faith in me.”
“You’ll get it done.”
“But if I can’t?” she persisted.
“That’s a conversation for another day,” he said. Then he went quiet.
Has he gone? Ava wondered. “Captain?”
“I want you to behave for my brother,” he said, as if he were talking to a child.
“Of course.”
“And Ms. Lee — Ava, I want you to know that I have the greatest respect for you. This isn’t personal; this is just business. We — me and you — are professionals, so I know you’ll see the fairness in it.”
“I understand,” she said.
“As for my daughters,” he went on, “I meant what I said when you were leaving Guyana. When this is over and we each have our money and you’re back safely in Toronto, I’d like you to call them, I really would.”
“Captain, don’t worry about your daughters,” Ava said.
(33)
The Customs officer pushed Seto through the terminal, with Robbins tailing and Ava alongside him, carrying her own bags. A black Crown Victoria idled outside. The window was open and Ava saw a middle-aged man with a tattooed arm dangling out the driver’s-side window.
“Davey, help me with this guy and then put the wheelchair in the trunk,” Robbins said.
Davey leapt from the car, all five foot six of him. He was scrawny and had a patchy beard. He wore stovepipe jeans, high-top running shoes, and two earrings. The only thing he lacked was a mullet. He opened the back door and watched Robbins shove Seto across the seat. “Put your bags in the trunk and then get in the front with Davey,” Robbins said to Ava.
They crossed the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge, which separated Beef Island from Tortola, and wound their way to Road Town. It was a slow trek. The roads were narrow, the car was big, and the route was mountainous. The car was American-made but the steering wheel was on the left-hand side and the road rules were British. It made for awkward turning, especially on the tight corners that came at them every hundred metres. The first time Davey honked his horn as they approached a curve, Ava jumped, anticipating a collision, but he did that before every curve as a precaution.
The car was otherwise quiet. Davey concentrated on his driving. Robbins sat like a lump behind her. Ava glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw him staring at the back of her head; then she imagined his breath on her neck. She tried to clear her mind, tried to start thinking through the mess emanating from Guyana, but Davey’s driving was so herky-jerky and the road so potentially lethal she couldn’t sustain any level of concentration.
It took twenty minutes to meander their way to the city. Road Town is built at the base of a mountain, and as they drove down towards it Ava saw that the lights were arranged in what looked like a circle. “That’s pretty,” she said, breaking the silence.
“That’s Road Harbour. The town is built around it, like a horseshoe,” Davey said.
Ava was surprised by the thoughtfulness of his description. “How many people live there?”
“About ten thousand.”
“Looks bigger, but then most cities do at night.”
“This place looks okay in the day too. They’ve done a good job developing it. Your boyfriend picked a nice place for you. It’s right over there, next to Wickham’s Cay,” he said, pointing.
He must have picked up Derek at the apartment, Ava thought, rerunning the timeline since her departure from Guyana. Customs officials must have gone along too, because she couldn’t imagine Derek letting just Davey and Robbins kick him off the island. She looked in the direction Davey had indicated but all she saw was a wall of lights. “Any good restaurants near the apartment?” she asked, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend.
“Enough with the chatter, Davey. You aren’t being paid to be a tour guide,” Robbins said.
They approached Road Town from the east, taking a route that traced the harbour to the west. She saw signs for Wickham’s Cay II and the inner harbour as they passed through a combination of residential, commercial, and government buildings. The architecture was Caribbean generic, mainly low-rise white stucco housing with the odd dash of coral pink or powder blue. The homes were to the north, set back from the harbour, while the restaurants, markets, government buildings, and commercial offices, with long lists of tenants posted on their exterior walls, crowded near and around the water. Davey turned left off Main Street, following the arrow to Wickham’s Cay I.
Guildford Apartments, a white stucco three-storey building, was right on the cay. To Ava’s eye it looked as if it had been built in a week.
Davey stopped right in front of the building. It had a double glass door that looked into the lobby and a reception desk that was unmanned. “How is security?” Ava asked.
“What do you mean?” said Robbins.
“I mean, is there any? Do we really want to be answering questions about Seto’s current state? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be drawing unnecessary attention to myself.”
Robbins shrugged. “There aren’t any guards. They have a small front desk that’s open from nine in the morning to nine at night. They lock the doors the rest of the time and you let yourself in with your room key.”
“Cameras?”
“What does it matter?”
“How often do they service the apartments?”
“Again, what the fuck does it matter?” Robbins snapped.
“Seto is going to be handcuffed and taped around the ankles and mouth for at least part of the time. We don’t want staff wandering in and out.”
“We’ll ask them in the morning,” he said.
Davey opened his door and went to the trunk. Ava followed. She took out her and Seto’s bags while Davey hauled out the wheelchair and unfolded it. “That’s a creepy-looking guy you’ve got in the back seat there. Looks like he should be peddling drugs to kids or selling porn,” he said.
“He’s in the fish business, so you aren’t far off,” Ava said, thinking that Davey might be trying to make a friend as well.
Robbins got out of the back seat feet first, his arms on either side of the door straining to pull out the rest of his body. He joined them by the trunk and reached inside for a briefcase. “I’m staying the night with the girl,” he said to Davey. “Be here in the morning to pick us up.” Then he turned to Ava. “What time is your meeting?”
“Ten,” Ava said.
“Barrett’s, right?”
“Yes, Barrett’s.”
“Quarter to ten should be fine,” he instructed Davey. “Now help us get this guy upstairs before you bugger off.”
Davey pushed the wheelchair to the door. Robbins inserted the plastic room key and then stepped back as he pulled the door open. As they walked into the lobby, a side door opened and a young black woman with a name tag that said DOREEN, RECEPTION almost ran right into them. She looked at Robbins, staring at his gloves, then at Ava, at Davey, and then Seto, whose head was hanging down, his chin on his chest, drool coming from his mouth. “My friend has a terrible case of food poisoning. We need to get him to the room and into bed,” Ava said.
“What room?”
“Three-twelve,” Robbins said, holding up the key for her to see. “Liang.”
The girl hesitated, then said, “Have a nice evening,” as she walked out the front door.
As they rode the elevator to the third floor, Robbins asked, “What did you knock him out with?”