The men in the blue suits did not say a word. They calmly got back into the car and drove off.
“So much for an interesting morning,” Tristan said.
“How about going back to the hotel?”
“Please!” Marissa said.
“I’m a nervous wreck. I don’t know how you can be so calm. Feel me, I’m shaking.” Marissa put her hand on Tristan’s forearm.
“You are shaking!” Tristan said.
“I’m sorry for putting you through all this, but at least we’ve now made contact. Maybe things will go better from now on. Provided, of course, that you want to go on.”
“I think so,” Marissa said. She didn’t sound certain.
“But I don’t think I could handle another chase.”
They descended into the MTR. They were pleased to find it clean and bright. The ride to the Tsirn Sha Tsui station was rapid, comfortable, and-better still-uneventful.
From the MTR station it was only a short walk back to the hotel. Passing one of the many jewelry stores along the way, Marissa jokingly mentioned that they needed new watches again.
“If this keeps up,” Tristan said, “keeping us in watches will be the dearest part of the whole trip.”
Stopping at a traffic light, Tristan took Marissa’s arm and leaned over to talk into her ear.
“I hate to alarm you again, but I think we are being followed. There are two men behind us, dressed like the ones who chased us. They’ve been with us since the underground.”
“Oh, no!” she said.
“What should we do? I’m not running. I can’t.”
Tristan straightened up.
“Relax!” he said.
“We’re not running; in fact, we’re not going to do anything. The man in the white suit told us we’d be watched. These men behind us are probably his men. I suppose the only thing we shouldn’t do is talk to any policemen.”
Marissa’s eyes roamed the busy intersection. In contrast to all their prior experience, there were now plenty of policemen. In their smart blue uniforms, they confidently patrolled the streets.
“Where were these guys when we needed them?” Marissa asked.
“This is a tourist area,” Tristan explained.
Reaching the hotel, they paused as the doorman graciously bowed and pulled the door open for them.
“I want to stop at the front desk,” Tristan said as they entered.
“I’ve got to get more oney out of the safe deposit box. I’d also like to go over and give that concierge a king hit. I have a feeling he’s the one who tipped off the triad. And to think he took my twenty dollars to boot.”
“Don’t cause any scenes,” Marissa said, taking his arm to press her point. Knowing Tristan, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d walked over and slugged the man.
Together they stepped up to the marble-topped counter. While Tristan vied for the attention of one of the hotel staff, Marissa’s gaze roamed around the lobby. As usual, it was crowded. High tea in the elegant lobby had been a tradition at the Peninsula for over half a century. Jeweled women and men dressed to the nines were seated at cloth-covered tables. Waiters with white gloves scurried back and forth from the kitchen. Trolleys of confections and pastries were wheeled through the elegant set. Classical piano music provided the ultimate touch.
Suddenly Marissa’s grip on Tristan’s arm tightened enough for him to wince.
“Tristan!” Marissa gasped.
“There is a man coming this way. A man that I think I recognize.”
Marissa’s eyes had originally passed over this man as just another face in the crowd. But then her mind had forced her eyes back to look at him more closely. There was something about his face and the way he wore his coal-black hair that had jogged her memory. She’d watched him put down his paper and stand up.
She’d seen him look at her and then start across the room. She’d seen his hand go inside his jacket. That had been when she’d ripped Tristan’s arm.
“Who’s that, luv?” Tristan asked.
“He’s headed our way,” Marissa whispered.
“The Chinese man in the gray suit. I’ve seen him before. I think he’s the man who threw the chum in the water when Wendy died!”