The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,66
the police are entirely capable, not prejudiced, and not corrupt and I go to them, what kind of investigation will really take place? Are they going to pursue the interests of a fly-by-night tourist or are they going to do everything they can not to offend the local big-shot banker?”
“You seem to be a very intelligent young woman,” he said carefully.
“I like to think I am.”
“And you’re familiar with how things work in this part of the world.”
“I think so.”
“Then I won’t insult you by pretending that Mr. Cameron’s status wouldn’t have an impact on how this matter would be handled.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “That said, and given that you have already made the decision not to go to the police, I am struggling with the reason why you’re here talking to me.”
“I wanted to confirm what happened to me in the lounge last night. I wanted to know for certain that it was Cameron who took me to my room.”
“I have confirmed that, I believe.”
“Yes, you have. And now what I want is for you to supply me with some information.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want to know about Cameron.”
“You’re confusing me.”
Ava reached into her pants pocket, took out two hundred-dollar bills, and put the money on the desk. “I want to know where he lives; I want to know his home and mobile phone numbers; I want to know what car he drives and what his licence plate number is; and I want to know what he does during his spare time.”
Indra looked at the money and then at her. “I still don’t understand any of this.”
“I’m prepared to pay you two hundred dollars for the information, and if you can get it for me by three o’clock this afternoon I’ll pay you another two hundred.”
“Ms. Lee, I’m not sure what you have in mind.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does if your purpose is to do something illegal.”
Was he being serious or sanctimonious? Ava couldn’t tell. “You have to forgive me,” she said. “I’ve never been raped before, and I’m not sure what the appropriate response is.” She looked at the photo on the credenza. “You have three daughters. What would you do if one of them was raped by someone you knew, someone you trusted?”
“I would go to the police.”
“Like hell you would,” she said, staring him down again.
Ava saw him glance at the money. “Take it,” she said, “and get me the information I want.”
“And if I can’t, Ms. Lee?”
“Then I’ll get it elsewhere. I just thought it would be easier to keep everything in-house, so to speak. No reason to involve other people, is there. You don’t have to start explaining things to senior management and I don’t have to run around the city talking to lawyers and private detectives and the like. I know how to keep my mouth shut, Pak Indra, and it strikes me that you have that quality as well.”
He picked up the money.
Ava stood. “Could you send the information to my room when you get it?”
He looked up at her and she saw questions in his eyes. Don’t ask, she thought, because I’m not sure you would believe my lies.
Ava left his office and found her way back to the lobby. Through the hotel door she could see the day was a bit overcast, the rainy season starting to signal its arrival. It was humid but the masked sun made the weather bearable — good enough for running.
She turned right from the hotel and started along the route she had taken the day before. She hadn’t run more than a kilometre before the sense of purpose that had energized her when she was speaking to Perkasa and Indra began to dissipate and the realization of what had happened to her began to take a grip. Since she had awakened, she had been operating like Ava: Identify the problem, put together a plan, and execute it. Call the doctor, order a lab test. Start organizing Perkasa. Confirm Cameron’s complicity and get the information needed to go after him. Through it all, though, it had been as if she were operating on behalf of someone else. It was as if she were treating herself as a client. Except she wasn’t a client.
An image popped into her mind. She shut her eyes and gave her head a brisk shake. The image didn’t go away. Then she stopped running, the pictures in her head almost paralyzing her. She was lying on her bed and it was her, not