The Trail of Money by Peter David Shapiro

Author:Peter David Shapiro
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: hong kong, suspense, mystery, money laundering, thriller, China, novel
Publisher: PenLane Press
Published: 2012-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

“Are you sure?” I asked. I dragged my chair closer to Blair’s desk where I could rest my head on my crossed arms and try to control roiling surges of nausea. Blair was leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed.

“The person who was found is a woman of the same height as Ms. Haig, same color hair, and wearing clothes that appear to be the same as in the hotel video. The body has been brought to the mortuary in Kowloon where I am now. Could you come here to confirm that it is Ms. Haig? Robert Leung has left Hong Kong and we are unable to locate the other ABJ staff at the moment.”

“Certainly,” Blair said, his voice subdued, his eyes still closed.

“Can you come now?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Take the MTR. My officers will meet you at the Jordan subway station on Kowloon-side and drive you from there to the mortuary.”

“We’re leaving now,” Blair said. “We’ll be there.”

My head was still on Blair’s desk. I didn’t feel like moving. I just wanted to rest there for a while, to try to get control over the nightmare, but when Blair asked me, “Do you feel up to it?” I replied, “I’ll manage.”

“You look...”

“I’ll do it, Blair. I’m going to help confirm the identity of Erin’s body. That’s the least I can do.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Blair said.

On our way out, Blair asked Elizabeth to call Edward Woo’s assistant to postpone our meeting. “Tell her something has come up and we will be back in touch,” Blair said.

“What’s happened?”

“Police have recovered a body. They believe it is Erin Haig’s.”

Hong Kong’s fast, safe, clean, and easy-to-navigate MTR subway system is the best option for those who put a higher priority on speed than on scenery when crossing the harbor to Kowloon. Even so, decisions do need to be made about specific subway lines, stations, ticket purchases, turnstiles, escalators, and exits. I had used the MTR many times and had no problems with it, but I was pre-occupied with thoughts of Erin. What had happened to her? What were we up against, that had cost her life? How could I have let her down? So I trailed in Blair’s wake, letting him navigate our route, buy this, put it there, turn here, speed up, slow down, stop, wait, go.

We entered the MTR’s Wan Chai station on Hennessey Road two blocks from our office. I recorded mindlessly the details of our underground journey while I grappled with what we were about to see. It was like I was watching a horror movie unfold, except that I was in it, along with Erin and everyone else around me. Down an escalator, across clean and clutter-free linoleum floors, past white walls set off by colorful tile murals of Hong Kong sights and advertisement posters inside stainless steel frames, through the turnstiles, onto the platform, and then the train, a succession of well-lit scenes. Two minutes later, at the Admiralty station in Central, we changed to the Tsuen Wan Line to cross under the harbor.

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