The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,109

off the table.”

“Twenty-four hours?”

“That’s my time frame.”

“They won’t like that.”

“Tell them anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll tell them.”

“They’re waiting for you to get back to them?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’ll stay up as well. Call them and then get right back to me.”

She placed the phone on the bedside table and made a quick run to the bathroom to pee, brush her teeth, and wash her face. Despite the hour, she was completely awake. The nap on the plane had helped, but she could also feel the adrenalin pumping through her system. She hadn’t felt this engaged since . . . since she could remember.

Back in the bedroom, she went to sit at the desk. She opened her computer to read the emails that had been cascading into her iPhone. Her last message from Surabaya, saying she would be out of touch for several days, had triggered an outpouring of concern from everyone in her life. Her mother and May Ling had both written four times, Mimi and Amanda twice; Maria had sent five emails in less than two days.

I am back in Hong Kong and safe and sound. Uncle and I have a project we need to finish. I’ll contact you all individually when it is done. Until then, I still need to concentrate on the job at hand. Love, Ava, she wrote and then sent it to all of them.

She perused the other emails, deleting most of them. The television was still on and Election 2 was coming to an end. As she settled back on the bed, her phone rang. She got to the table by the third ring and was about to answer when she saw Maria’s number on the screen. She let it ring out, and as she did the memory of Andy Cameron saying “I don’t do ugly” flashed in her head. She suddenly felt nauseous. She knew she wasn’t ready to talk to Maria, her mother, or May Ling — all the women she felt the strongest emotional attachment to. She had to get herself under control. She needed to act as if everything was normal.

She was not about to share what had happened in Surabaya with anyone, but she wasn’t sure what impact her mother’s voice might have on her. She didn’t know how she would react to Maria’s tenderness. All she knew was that she wanted to be spared their emotions, and the only way that could happen was for Ava to be her normal calm self. She didn’t know if that would be possible if she spoke to them right now. Aside from the dull ache that hadn’t left her since Surabaya, there was the matter of the bouts of anxiety that seemed to attack her without warning. I need to get my imagination under control, she thought.

Ava walked over to the bed and slipped to her knees. She pressed her hands together and began to pray to Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. The phone rang before she could finish.

She looked at the incoming number. It was Marc Lafontaine. She felt a touch of relief.

“That was even quicker.”

“You have their complete attention.”

“What did they say?” she asked.

“It wasn’t easy.”

“Marc, what did they say?”

“They’re agreeable to everything except the deadline.”

“No. The deadline is necessary and I won’t change it.”

He hesitated, and she wondered if the Mounties were now lost to her.

“In that case you should give them your client’s name and the name of the bank and arrange to send the sample information to Ottawa via email. They’ll work as fast as they can.”

“I’ll need about half an hour.”

“They will want the deadline to start when they actually receive the information.”

“Of course.”

“Here is the email address they want it sent to . . .” he said.

Ava walked back to the desk and opened her notebook. “Go ahead,” she said. He recited three addresses. “Thanks, Marc. I really appreciate your help with this. If things go well we should be talking in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Let’s hope so, because I can tell you, Ava, if things don’t go well I’m facing a lifetime posting in Guyana.”

“Stay positive,” she said, reaching into her bag for the USB drive containing the Bank Linno loan data. Then she headed for the door.

She took the elevator to the Mandarin’s business centre on the second floor. The place was deserted except for a clerk. Ava signed in and took a computer in the far corner. She logged on, opened the USB directory, found the Toronto records, printed three