‘”Who among us”?’ asked the clerk enigmatically. ‘As the good Christian Book says – somewhere, I think.’
‘Sounds right,’ agreed Staples. ‘Please, get on the phone and do your best.’
The young man reached beneath the counter and pulled out a plastic bound list of car rental agencies. He went to a telephone several feet to his right, picked it up and started dialling. Catherine looked over at Lee Teng; he had steered his irate lady to the wall by a miniature palm in an obvious attempt to keep her from alarming the other guests who sat around the ornate lobby greeting friends and ordering cocktails. He was speaking rapidly, softly, and, by God, thought Staples, he was actually getting her attention. Whatever her legitimate complaints, mused Catherine, the woman was an ass. She wore a chinchilla stole in just about the worst climate on earth for such delicate fur. Not that she, Foreign Service Officer Staples, ever had the problem of such a decision. She might have if she had chucked the FSO status and stuck with Owen Staples. The son of a bitch owned at least four banks in Toronto now. Not a bad sort, really, and to add to her sense of guilt, Owen had never remarried. Not fair, Owen! She had run across him three years ago, after her stint in Europe, while attending a British-organized conference in Toronto. They had had drinks at the Mayfair Club in the King Edward Hotel, not so unlike the Mandarin, actually.
‘Come on, Owen. Your looks, your money – and you had the looks before your money – why not? There are a thousand beautiful girls within a five-block radius who’d grab you.’
‘Once was enough, Cathy. You taught me that.’
‘I don’t know, but you make me feel – oh, I don’t know -somehow so guilty. I left you, Owen, but not because I wasn’t fond of you.’
‘”Fond” of me?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Owen had laughed. ‘You left me for all the right reasons, and I accepted your leaving without animus for likeminded reasons. If you had waited five minutes longer, I think I would have thrown you out. I’d paid the rent that month.’
‘You bastard!’
‘Not at all, neither of us. You had your ambitions and I had mine. They simply weren’t compatible.’
‘But that doesn’t explain why you never remarried.’
‘I just told you. You taught me, my dear.’
Taught you what? That all ambitions were incompatible?’
‘Where they existed in our extremes, yes. You see, I learned that I wasn’t interested on any permanent basis in anyone who didn’t have what I suppose you’d call a passionate “drive”, or an overriding ambition, but I couldn’t live with such a person day in and day out. And those without ambition left something wanting in our relationships. No permanency there.’
‘But what about a family? Children?’
‘I have two children,’ Owen had said quietly. ‘Of whom I’m immensely fond. I love them very much, and their very ambitious mothers have been terribly kind. Even their subsequent respective husbands have been understanding. While they were growing up, I saw my children constantly. So, in a sense, I had three families. Quite civilized, if frequently confusing.’
‘ You! The paragon of the community, the banker’s banker.’ The man they said took a shower in a Dickens nightshirt! A deacon of the church!’
‘I gave that up when you left. At any rate, it was simply statecraft on my part. You practise it every day.’
‘Owen, you never told me.’
‘You never asked, Cathy. You had your ambitions and I had mine. But I will tell you my one regret, if you want to hear it.’
‘I do.’
‘I’m genuinely sorry that we never had a child together. Judging by the two I have, he or she would have been quite marvellous.’
‘You bastard, I’m going to cry.’
‘Please don’t. Let’s be honest, neither of us has any regrets.’
Catherine’s reverie was suddenly interrupted. The clerk lurched back from the telephone, his hands triumphantly on the counter. ‘You have good joss, Mrs!’ he cried. ‘The dispatcher at the Apex agency on Bonham Strand East was still there and he has cars available but nobody to drive one here.’
‘I’ll take a taxi. Write out the address.’ Staples looked around for the hotel drug store. There were too many people in the lobby, too much confusion. ‘Where can I buy some -skin lotion or Vaseline; sandals or thongs?’ she asked, turning to the clerk.
There is a newspaper stand down the hallway to the right, Mrs. They have many of the items you describe. But, may I please have money, as you must present a receipt to the dispatcher. It is one thousand dollars, Hong Kong, whatever remains to be returned or additional monies to be added-‘
‘I don’t have that much on me. I’ll have to use a card.’
‘So much the better.’
Catherine opened her purse and pulled out a credit card from an inside pocket. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she said, placing it on the counter as she started for the hallway on the right. For no reason in particular, she glanced over at Lee Teng and his distraught lady. To her brief amusement, the overdressed woman in the foolish fur was nodding appreciatively as Teng pointed to the line of overpriced shops reached by climbing a staircase above the lobby. Lee Teng was a true diplomat. Without question, he had explained to the overwrought guest that she had an option that would both serve her needs and her nerves and hit her errant husband in his financial solar plexus. This was Hong Kong, and she could purchase the best and the most glittering, and for a price everything would be ready in time for the grand ball at Government House. Staples continued towards the hallway.
Catherine? The name was so sharply spoken Staples froze. ‘Please, Mrs Catherine?
Rigid, Staples turned. It was Lee Teng, who had broken away from his outraged, now mollified, guest. ‘What is it?’ she asked, frightened as the middle-aged Teng approached, his face lined with concern, sweat evident on his balding skull.
‘I saw you only moments ago. I had a problem.’
‘I know all about it.’
‘So do you, Catherine.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Teng glanced at the counter, oddly enough not at the young man who had helped her but at the other clerk who was at the opposite end of the desk. The man was by himself, with no guests in front of him, but he was looking at his associate. ‘Damn bad joss!’ exclaimed Teng under his breath.
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Staples.
‘Come over here,’ said the Number 1 concierge of the night shift as he pulled Catherine to the side, away from the sight of the counter. He reached into his pocket and removed a perforated half page of paper on which there was a computer print-out. ‘Four copies of this were sent down from upstairs. I managed to obtain three but the fourth is under the counter.’
Emergency. Government control. A Canadian woman by the name of Mrs Catherine Staples may attempt to lease an automobile for personal use. She is fifty-seven years of age, with partially grey hair, of medium height and a slender figure. Delay all proceedings and contact Police Central Four.
Wenzu had drawn a conclusion based on an observation, thought Catherine, along with the knowledge that anyone who willingly drove a car in Hong Kong was either crazy or had a peculiar reason for doing so. He was covering his bases quickly and completely. The young man just got me a car over in Bonham Strand East. He obviously hasn’t read this.’
‘He found you a rental at this hour?’
‘He’s writing up the credit charge now. Do you think he’ll see this?’
‘It is not him that I worry about. He is in training and I can tell him anything and he will accept what I say. The other one not so; he wants my job badly. Wait here. Stay out of sight.’
Teng walked to the counter as the clerk was anxiously looking around, the layered credit card slips in his hand. Lee Teng took the charges and put them in his pocket. That won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘Our customer has changed her mind. She found a friend in the lobby who will drive her.’
‘Oh? Then I should tell our associate not to bother. As the amount is over the limit, he is clearing it for me. I am still somewhat unsure and he offered-‘
Teng waved him shut as he crossed to the second clerk on the telephone at the other end of the counter. ‘You may give me the card and forget the call. There are too many distressed ladies tonight for me! This one has found other means of transportation.’
‘Certainly, Mr Teng,’ said the second clerk obsequiously. He handed over the credit card, apologized quickly to the operator on the line and hung up the telephone.