The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,98
knew. It was going to be struck from her mind, dispatched like Cameron.
“You were great to work with,” she said. “So were the brothers. Please make sure they know how much I appreciate everything they did.”
“They know. The two hundred dollars you gave them meant a lot.”
Waru drove the Nissan into the airport’s short-term lot and Prayogo peeled off and headed for the long-term. When they disembarked from the car, Waru reached for Ava’s bags. She shook her head but he insisted.
They stopped just inside the terminal, Waru looking around in all directions. The two Indonesians exchanged words. “He’s looking for his contact,” Perkasa said.
The contact found them — a short, middle-aged woman in a Singapore Air uniform who walked into the terminal through the same door they had used. She tapped Waru on the shoulder and he spun around, to be greeted by a hug. They exchanged words and then she said to Ava, “Are you travelling with us as well?”
“No, I’m going in a different direction.”
“Here is my confirmation number and the passport I want to use,” Perkasa said to her, handing over the paper Ava had given him. The paper was on top of a stack of rupiah notes.
She put the money in her pocket. “Good. Now follow me over to the check-in counter and we’ll get you settled. I’ll look after everything personally,” she said, looking at the passport, “Mr. Cameron.”
Waru spoke to Perkasa. “He says she’s the supervisor,” Perkasa translated for Ava.
Ava spotted the Cathay Pacific counter further down the terminal. “I’ll get my own boarding pass and meet you back here,” she said.
Uncle had booked her into first class and there was no lineup at that counter. Within five minutes she was back at the spot where she’d left the men. Perkasa and Waru joined her almost at once. “She’s going to take me to the lounge and then wait there with me until boarding. She’ll personally clear me at the gate,” he said.
“What will you do with the bag in Singapore?” she asked.
“I thought I’d put it in a storage locker at the airport.”
“Destroy the passport.”
“Of course.”
Ava hesitated, trying to think of anything she’d missed, and then she remembered Cameron’s phone. It was still in her bag. She took it out and gave it to Perkasa. “Call the housekeeper from the lounge and tell her Cameron just came off the golf course and is going to Singapore. And then lose the phone when you land.”
Prayogo came into the terminal and headed towards them. He handed the Porsche keys to Perkasa, who in turn looked at Ava. “Lose them with the phone,” she said.
“There could be some noise here about Cameron disappearing. Do you want Waru to keep his ears open and let us know what’s going on?”
“The Italians won’t go to the police, and they’ll discourage anyone associated with him from doing that.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Still . . .”
“If he hears our names connected to Cameron’s, call me. Otherwise, let it be.”
“Okay.”
The supervisor hovered just out of earshot. “It looks like she wants to get you to the lounge,” Ava said.
Perkasa nodded. “It’s been one helluva twenty-four hours.”
( 37 )
Ava slept most of the way to Hong Kong, and when she woke, she knew things were different.
It had started while she sat in the business lounge at Juanda International. She reached for her phone to call Toronto and then realized it was five a.m. there. No one would be answering.
She thought about calling May Ling, then hesitated. Things would get personal — they always got personal. Ava wasn’t sure how well she could handle that. Not now, anyway.
So she phoned Uncle and, almost to her relief, went to voicemail. “It’s done. I’m at the airport in Surabaya and my flight is on time,” she said.
She had a glass of champagne when she boarded the flight and then downed two glasses of a French white burgundy as soon as cabin service began. She refused dinner, reclined her seat, put on an eye mask, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
She woke about half an hour out from Hong Kong, a flight attendant hovering over her, offering a hot towel. Ava took it, laid it over her face, and scrubbed, lightly at first and then vigorously, as if trying to wipe off any last remnants of Surabaya. The South China Sea glittered below, her familiar pathway to Hong Kong. Toronto was only a few days away.