And then there was the ethical issue surrounding Andrew Tam. It was his money. He was entitled to all of it. From a practical viewpoint, she and Uncle had never guaranteed any return, let alone full return, but Ava couldn’t lie to herself about the fact that the money was intact and within reach, and that with a little ingenuity she might be able to get it all. Why give Robbins anything if she could find a way around it?
How cooperative, how gullible would Robbins be once he knew she had successfully engineered the wire transfer to Hong Kong? Assuming he was going to be satisfied with the $2.2 million, was he prepared to instruct Thomas to give back her passport and let her leave the country once he had proof that the wire had been sent to his Cayman account, rather than wait until the money actually reached it? He had been willing enough to do that in Guyana. But that was there, and those were much smaller stakes. How much did he actually trust her?
So there would be a Plan A and a Plan B, she decided, and then caught herself before going too far down that road. Let’s focus on tomorrow, she thought, reopening her notebook. In the back she had taped Seto’s Washington state driver’s licence. She took it out and placed it at the bottom of an empty page; then, starting at the top, she filled the rest of the page with Seto’s signature. By the bottom of the page it was beginning to look authentic.
Ava finished her glass of wine and poured another. Below she saw a knot of ten people on the dock walking towards a boat that looked like a small floating hotel. They looked like couples, old friends, arms entwined or thrown loosely around necks. They weaved as they walked, their voices rising towards her, the happy voices of happy people who had probably just finished a gourmet meal and six bottles of wine. Well, I have my wine, she thought, and a nice evening and a great view. Things could always be worse. If only she hadn’t googled Tommy Ordonez.
(34)
Ava crawled into bed fully dressed, her mind jumping back and forth between Jeremy Bates and Robbins. She began taking long, slow breaths and tried to focus on her bak mei exercises. It was difficult to maintain that kind of concentration; it took her half an hour, maybe longer, to finally fall asleep. When she did, her father came to her in a dream. They were in a hotel, ready to leave for an airport. He said he was going to check out and asked her to collect their bags from their room. Except she couldn’t find the room. She wandered from floor to floor, her frustration and panic increasing. She was ready to run to the lobby to get his help when someone else entered her dream.
Ava didn’t dream that often, and when she did, her father was always in it. The locations, the situations, the other people changed from dream to dream. None of that mattered. It always came down to her and her father and one of countless variations of him leaving and her trying to catch him or imploring him to stay. She never caught him. He never stayed.
Ava sensed a presence, a subtle change in the light triggering her response. She was on her back, arms by her sides, head resting on two pillows. She opened her eyes and saw him standing in the doorway, the light from the living room glowing around him like an aura. She thought she could hear him breathing. Her own breathing had stopped. She lay perfectly still, her eyes unblinking, locked on the doorway. Ava’s arms were outside the covers but her legs weren’t. She calculated the distance between the door and her bed, and knew that she had the time she needed to react if he decided to come into the room, even if he came charging into the room.
She thought about saying something, and then thought, No, let him think I’m still asleep. Let him try to do whatever it is he has chosen to do, and then I’ll do what I choose to do. How badly would she hurt him? There was no limit in her mind. Money or no money, she wouldn’t let him get close enough to even think he had a chance. Then the Captain could decide which he valued more, his brother or a payday.
Minutes passed, or maybe it was just a few seconds — Ava had no real sense of time. Robbins stood immobile in the doorway, his massive backlit head stretched towards the bed. She couldn’t see his eyes and wondered if he could see hers, wondered if he knew she was awake.
Then he moved, turning, one hand reaching for the doorknob. Ava’s legs twitched; her body coiled, her mind cleared. He took a step back. Then she heard a deep breath and was plunged back into darkness as the door closed.
Now she could not sleep. She had no idea what time it was and didn’t care. She forced herself to think of something other than the man in the next room. Jeremy Bates and Barrett’s Bank were her choices. She conjured question after question and threw back answer after answer until the sun slipped between the slats of the blinds that covered her window. The room gradually filled with sunlight and just as gradually dulled her nighttime fears. Ava looked towards the door. That hadn’t been a dream.
She slid out of bed, the tiles cold on her feet, increasing her urge to pee. She took out her toiletry bag, walked to the bedroom door, and opened it with purpose. Six empty bottles of Stella sat on the coffee table. Robbins had left the sofa but he hadn’t left the room. He was in one of the pine chairs, which he’d pushed against the apartment door. His head was back, mouth open, as he breathed and snored in spurts.
Ava went into the bathroom and locked the door. It took her half an hour to pee, brush her teeth, shower, wash and dry her hair, and put on the lightest touch of makeup. She couldn’t remember ever enjoying bathroom time quite so much. As she was finishing up, she heard shuffling in the apartment and knew that Robbins had left his chair. She listened, trying to figure out where he was. She had no intention of opening the bathroom door and walking into him. Then the noises he was making became indistinct and she had two thoughts: he was in his bedroom or he was standing outside waiting for her.
She opened the door carefully and saw him almost at once. He was standing at the entrance to Seto’s room. “You need to look after this guy,” Robbins said.
Ava had almost forgotten about Seto. She went to his door. He was flailing on the bed, kicking the covers free, revealing a pair of jockey shorts that didn’t flatter his stick-like legs. When he saw her, he motioned with his head for her to come close. She pulled the tape from his mouth. “I need to pee,” he gasped. His eyes were still glazed from the drug, but she could see that the flash of anger, the hint of growing confidence that had begun to emerge in them the night before had completely disappeared. He was a whipped puppy again, just the way she liked them to be.
“Take him,” she said to Robbins, who had come into the room and was standing only a few feet behind her. “Behave,” she said to Seto.
“I want nothing to do with him,” said Robbins.
“I can’t do it, and we can’t have him here all covered in piss if I have to bring the banker back.”
She watched as Robbins thought it out through his beery haze. “Fuck,” he finally said, brushing past her and reaching down for Seto. He picked him up by the armpits again and, holding him at arm’s length, carried him from the room. Seto looked back at Ava, his eyes rolling in panic.
While they were in the bathroom she prepared another dose of chloral hydrate in a glass of water. She had only a bottle and a half left. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use it all.
Robbins carried Seto back the same way he had taken him and threw him onto the bed from a metre away. Seto bounced and then lay sideways across the bed. Ava helped him sit up and held the glass to his mouth. “Drink,” she said.
He shook his head.
“Drink it or I’ll get Mr. Clean here to hold your mouth open and I’ll pour it down your throat. Look at it this way: you’ll be sleeping through a whole bunch of unpleasantness. This is a kindness, not a punishment.”