But why Sydney? No doubt there was gold in the banks of Sydney, but was he planning to use the soliton there somehow? Sydney wasn’t an island. There was water there, obviously, but what could he possibly be planning to do? The soliton worked in a confined space, not in open water; you needed divers, working in tunnels, setting controlled explosions. Did he think he could somehow use the technology to raise a tsunami off the coast of Australia? It was preposterous. Any engineer could have told him it wouldn’t work. And even if it could have worked, why there...?
Manville kept silent as the three of them walked back to the police station, letting Kim and Luther argue out the problem of Mark Hennessy. Luther finally said, “The point now is to find Jerry. If they haven’t... hurt him yet, there’s still a chance.”
Manville was thinking about the millions of other people Richard Curtis hadn’t hurt yet. The inhabitants of Sydney, or wherever his target really was. But he appreciated why Luther’s main concern was Jerry. “We can press that point with Wai Fung,” he said. “He might not think he has a reason to go after Curtis, but he certainly has a reason to look for the guy who assaulted Kim and me — and took Jerry.”
But Wai Fung was ahead of them. At first he was late, sending one of his assistants to apologize for the delay; they sat around the conference table for about forty minutes until the inspector arrived. “I do apologize for having made you wait,” he announced, as he entered the room, “but I believe you will forgive me in just a moment.” He took a photograph from his jacket pocket. “Mr. Manville, do you recognize this man?”
Manville took the picture, a squarish black and white head-shot, for a driver’s license or a passport. It was the man who’d attacked Kim.
Manville looked up at the expectantly smiling Wai Fung. “That’s him. The man in Kim’s hotel room.”
Wai Fung dipped his head. “Would you show the photo to Miss Baldur, please?”
“Of course.”
Manville passed her the picture and she said, “Yes, that’s him.”
Wai Fung said, “Excellent,” and extended his hand for the photo.
Giving it back, Manville said, “Congratulations, inspector. That was fast work.”
“The man did not make it difficult,” Wai Fung said. “His name is Colin Bennett. He is a Singaporean.” Wai Fung sat. “Although he lives in Singapore, in an apartment near China Street, he has been staying at the Race Course Court Hotel for the last week.”
“Since we’ve been there!” Kim said.
“He moved in the day after your arrival, and he checked out this morning, shortly before the attack on you. He used his own name, and he paid in cash. He explained to the hotel clerk that his building was being fumigated and the landlord was paying for him to stay in a hotel until the work was completed.”
Fairchild said, “But his building was not being fumigated.”
“No, of course not.” Wai Fung looked around at them all and said, “There was a small radio device installed in the telephone in one of your rooms. As you predicted.”
Luther was nodding. Kim was, too, but there was something in Luther’s expression, Manville thought, that was less hopeful than in Kim’s, a sort of fearful expectation. Jerry’s name had not been mentioned yet.
Wai Fung said, “A squad has been sent to this man Bennett’s home. We’ll bring him in and see what he has to say for himself.”
Kim said, “Ask him who hired him. Ask him about Richard Curtis.”
“No,” Luther said. “Jerry. Ask him where Jerry is.”
“Oh, we’ll ask him many questions,” Wai Fung promised them both. “He will grow quite tired of our asking him questions, I assure you. But since you’ve brought up the matter of Richard Curtis once more,” and his gaze shifted from Kim to Luther, “are you now prepared, Mr. Rickendorf, to produce this employee of Richard Curtis who’s been supplying you with information?”
Luther gave an unhappy shake of his head. “He’s afraid to lose his job. He won’t come forward.”
“A pity,” Wai Fung said.
Fairchild spoke up in the silence that fell. “So we have a man who does exist, this Colin Bennett, who did move into that hotel for the apparent purpose of keeping an eye on these people, who lied to the hotel clerk about his reasons for staying at the hotel, and who assaulted Ms. Baldur earlier today. What else do we know about him?”
“He’s a laborer of some sort,” Wai Fung said. “We don’t yet have his entire history, but we soon will. I would say he doesn’t have the money needed to spend a week at that hotel, not out of his own pocket. So yes, someone did hire him to watch those three people.” He shrugged. “When he gets here, that’s one of the questions we’ll ask him.”
“And about Jerry,” Luther insisted.
Wai Fung nodded to him and said, “Mr. Rickendorf, I do promise you we will do everything we possibly can to find your friend.”
“Please,” Luther said, as a uniformed policeman came in with a note, which he gave to Wai Fung, then left. Wai Fung opened the folded sheet of paper, read it, then said, “Mr. Bennett is not at home, although it looks as though he’s been there recently. There are indications that he may be traveling. We’re looking now to see if he’s left the country.”
“He could be hiding,” Luther said, “where he’s got Jerry.”
“If so, we’ll find them both,” Wai Fung told him. Looking around the table, he said, “I think there’s nothing more for us to do together at this point. I will telephone you all when we have further news.”
23
The call came less than thirty-six hours later.
They were shown into the same conference room, where they took the same seats as last time, and a moment later Wai Fung and his assistants came in. This time, Wai Fung wasn’t smiling. He looked grim and troubled.
He stopped just inside the doorway, looked around at the people at the conference table, and said, “I have news, none of it good, some of it very bad. Mr. Rickendorf, I’m sorry to have to tell you, but your friend is dead.”
“No!” Kim cried, though of course they’d known it all along.
Luther said nothing, and after Kim’s outburst they all seemed to be enclosed within Luther’s silence. In that silence, Wai Fung made his way to his seat, laced his fingers on the table, looked at his hands, and said, “He was in the water, in the Sebarok Channel, found this morning.”
Fairchild said, “Drowned?”
“No. His nose had been broken, and it would seem he strangled. Or was strangled. There are indications that duct tape had recently been on his wrists and ankles.”
Luther still said nothing.
Wai Fung took a deep breath. “It is possible, though not certain, that the length of pipe you retrieved from Colin Bennett, Mr. Manville, was used to break Mr. Diedrich’s nose. Tests are being done, but it will probably remain inconclusive.”
Fairchild said, “Any further news about Bennett?”
“I was about to come to that,” Wai Fung said. “Yesterday afternoon, just a few hours after the attack on Miss Baldur, Colin Bennett flew to Taiwan.”
George, beside Kim, said, “Taiwan!”
Wai Fung gave him a sour smile, “Yes, Mr. Manville, and Richard Curtis flew to the same destination today, in the company of an employee of his named Mark Hennessy.”
Kim blurted, before she could even think about it, “He’s the spy!”
Startled looks from everybody. Wai Fung said, “Is he. Well, he may just wish he’d come forward, in that case.”
George said, “You think Curtis knows?”