“You have insulted me by bringing an armed guard,” he said.
“No insult was intended,” Tristan said with an uneasy smile.
“We had an unfortunate incident yesterday. Someone tried to kill
US.”
“Where?” Mr. Yip asked.
“At the Peninsula Hotel,” Tristan answered.
Mr. Yip gazed up at the man who’d brought Marissa and Tristan in to see him. The man nodded, apparently confirming the story. Mr. Yip looked back at Marissa and Tristan and shrugged.
“Attempted assassinations are not so uncommon,” he said.
“It’s the price of doing certain business in Hong Kong.
There have been any number of attempts on my life.”
“It is not something we are accustomed to,” Marissa said.
“Regardless,” Mr. Yip said, “it was a mistake to bring a guard to a meeting with me. Besides, he could not have protected you.”
“We are foreigners,” Marissa said.
“We don’t know the rules.”
“I will forgive you this time,” Mr. Yip said.
“Did you bring the money?”
“Too right, mate,” Tristan said.
“But how about our information first?”
Mr. Yip smiled and shook his head in amazement.
“Please, Mr. Williams,” he said.
“Do not trouble or irritate me any more than you already have. And don’t call me ‘mate.”
“Righto,” Tristan said.
“I suppose our bargaining position is a bit weak.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a hotel envelope in which he’d put ten thousand Hong Kong dollars. He handed it to Mr. Yip.
“For your entertainment expenses.” He smiled.
Mr. Yip took the envelope.
“You are learning our Hong Kong business practices quickly,” he said. He tore open the envelope and flipped through the money. Then he slipped the money into his jacket pocket.
“I have learned that the Wing Sin are doing business with an Australian company called Fertility, Limited,” Mr. Yip said.
“They have been bringing out pairs of Chinese men from the People’s Republic for several years, about every two months. The Wing Sin have been arranging transportation from a pickup on the Pearl River north of Zhuhai to Aberdeen. From there they take them to Kai Tac and put them on planes for Brisbane. It has been a comfortable, profitable business relationship: not overwhelningly so, but it is adequate.”
“Who are these men?” Tristan asked.
Mr. Yip shrugged.
“I don’t know and I don’t care. It was the same with the students from Tiananmen Square. We didn’t care who they were. We just wanted to be paid for their transport.”
“Why are they being smuggled out of the PRO.” Tristan asked.
“No idea,” Mr. Yip said.
“It is not important for the Wing Sin.”
Tristan threw up his hands in frustration.
“You haven’t told us anything that we didn’t know before,” he complained.
Marissa shifted uneasily. She was afraid Tristan would irritate the man.
“I agreed to make inquiries,” Mr. Yip said.
“And indeed I did.
Perhaps to mitigate your chagrin I can offer one additional service.
Perhaps you would find it beneficial to visit the captain of the junk who does the actual pickup.”
Marissa could tell Tristan was livid. She was terrified he might do something to jeopardize their safety. She hoped he would be interested in Mr. Yip’s offer. She knew she was. Maybe the captain could provide the information they were looking for.
Tristan caught her eye.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“You interested?”
Marissa nodded.
“Okay,” Tristan told Mr. Yip.
“We’ll give it a go. How do we find this captain?”
“He’s in Aberdeen,” Mr. Yip said.
“I’ll have one of my business associates show you the way.” Mr. Yip then gave their escort instructions in rapid Cantonese.
“I was so afraid you were about to do something silly in there,” Marissa said.
“That rat bag cheated us,” Tristan said indignantly.
“That hoon poofter took our money and gave us a bunch of claptrap.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you speak English,” Marissa said.
They were back in the armored Mercedes with Bentley at the wheel. They were following a comparably armored Mercedes that was leading them to the captain Mr. Yip had mentioned.
Bentley was quiet, humiliated by the episode in the Stanley Restaurant parking lot.
“This junk captain better have something interesting to say,” Tristan warned.