The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,123

you.”

“How did he know about me?”

“You were in the calendar.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing, other than that you were a Hong Kong accountant looking for a bank for a client.”

“John, I’m sure you’ve heard from Fay that my after-dinner drink with Andy didn’t turn out so well.”

“She did hint that he was typically boorish.”

“Yes, he was, and I was quite firm in my rejection. He left the hotel in a huff. I never want to speak to him again. In fact, I never want to hear his name mentioned again.”

“I get the picture,” Masterson said.

“Good. Now I’m sure you’ve heard the last of Foti, but in case he does call again, I would appreciate it if you kept my name entirely out of the conversation.”

“There’s really no reason for me to hear from him.”

“Of course not,” Ava said. “John, I have to go now. Please pass along my warmest wishes to Fay.”

“Will do, and make sure you call us next time you’re here.”

Ava ended the call and glanced around the terminal. No one seemed to be paying her undue attention. Don’t start getting paranoid, she told herself.

She tried Poirier’s phone again. This time it went directly to voicemail. Where the hell was he?

She was standing in the middle of the floor, and suddenly she felt very visible. There was a row of benches along a wall and she headed for them. She sat down with her phone face-up on her lap. There was nothing she could do but wait. She was certain Poirier would call. And after that talk with John Masterson, she was equally certain that coming back to Surabaya was the best thing she could possibly have done.

The Italians were on the hunt for Andy Cameron, and she knew they wouldn’t stop at one chat with Masterson. It sounded to her as if they were focused on Surabaya, or at least as focused on it as they were on Singapore. One thing would not lead inevitably to another unless the pursuers were suspicious, smart, and totally committed to finding him. And she had no doubt these men were. It was all about time; her sense that events needed to be propelled as quickly as possible was proving right. Every day that went by added to the risk that the Italians would stumble onto something or someone. Taking them out of play this way and this quickly had been a correct call. That alone would be worth the return trip.

But what if Foti and Chorico had called in outside help? If Ava were in their place, she wouldn’t have done that immediately. They were Cameron’s caretakers, and for six years the relationship had worked. They had no real reason to suspect that things had suddenly disintegrated. Cameron was missing, not locked up in a police cell, not dead. They would spend at least a day or two — and that’s all it had been — trying to sort out the disappearance themselves before reaching out for help. He had been lost on their watch. Why would they make themselves look stupid or incompetent? They would want to exhaust all the local possibilities before panicking. Or so Ava thought. So Ava hoped.

Her phone rang, startling her. The incoming number was blocked. “Yes,” she said.

“This is Ryan Poirier. I got your message. Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier.”

“Where are you?”

“Five minutes from the airport. I’m on my way to meet you.”

“I’m sitting inside the terminal on a bench. Obviously I’m Chinese, and I’m wearing black linen slacks with a white shirt and my hair is tied back.”

“I have red hair. I don’t think you need to know anything else.”

“No,” Ava said, laughing. “I’ll see you.”

“You’re ready to go, right?”

“Of course.”

From the bench she could see two of the three entrances to the terminal. He walked through the middle one. Poirier was not only instantly recognizable to her but drew stares from most of the Asians nearby, people whose only concept of natural hair colour was shades of black. He was smaller than she had expected — about five foot nine, she guessed — with a slim build. Too small to be a Mountie, Ava thought as she eyed his designer jeans and bright green short-sleeved silk shirt. And too hip.

She stood and waved in his direction. He saw her, nodded, and walked towards her, his eyes flickering around the terminal. His hair was indeed red, parted down the middle and grazing the tops of his ears. He looked young from a