Well, he told himself, he had all night. When the document was completed, he would send it to his attorney: To be opened in the event of my death. He would borrow a photocopy machine from the hotel and have a copy for Felder, and certainly a copy for Kling. That would mean he would not have to see Kling again.
He moved to the desk, sat down, found paper and in his small, neat handwriting began to write.
Ng Vee returned to the Star Motel a little after 13.00. He found Kling still in bed, still nursing his hangover, and in a surly mood.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Kling snarled.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Ng said. ‘I gave the lady lunch. Can I get you something?’
Kling glared at him.
‘She’s got food there, hasn’t she? What’s the matter with you? She’ll be dead in a few days, so what the hell?’
Ng flinched.
‘Can I get you something, sir?’
‘No. Leave me alone!’
Ng went into the kitchen and closed the door.
She’ll be dead in a few days!
Tonight he would go to Jamison’s villa and kill him. That was the solution. That was the only solution!
Sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, Ng thought back on the three hours he had spent with Shannon Jamison.
Wonderful, marvellous hours!
While he had been preparing lunch for her, she had come into the little kitchen and had talked, while she watched him cook. Little by little, she encouraged him to talk about himself. Her quiet, calm voice was a delight to him.
He told her about his life in Saigon, about his mother, and how his master had rescued him from starvation.
Shannon was careful not to inquire about this man who Ng called his master. She was now certain that this odd youth was desperately in love with her. She felt relief and confidence, sure she could rely on him.
She had insisted that he should share the meal with her, and as they sat opposite each other she had told him about her love for music, a little about her religious faith, and as the meal was finishing she told him she was unable to have a child and how disappointed her husband was.
Ng listened, enraptured that she should take him so much into her confidence. He nearly told her that her husband was planning her murder, but he refrained. This wasn’t the time. First, he had to get rid of Jamison, then he would set her free.
She had praised his cooking and when he had cleared the dishes, asking her to leave them, as he would return the following day, she touched his hand.
‘Thank you, Kim. You have been very kind to me.’
That night, after Kling had shaken off his hangover and had gone down to the Casino, Ng walked the two miles to Jamison’s villa.
Not knowing that Jamison was in Zurich, Ng spent four frustrating hours, hidden in Jamison’s garden, waiting and watching.
There were no lights showing in the lower rooms. He saw Smyth leave the villa and walk over to Conklin’s garage apartment.
Finally, he decided that Jamison wasn’t going to appear. He didn’t want his master to return and find him absent.
Well, tomorrow night, he thought, as he began the long hot walk back to the motel, he would try again.
This man must be killed!
The following morning, Kling was in a better mood. After demolishing eggs and waffles, he said to Ng, ‘Let’s go have a swim, kid.’
All Ng’s thoughts were now directed to Shannon.
‘I thought, sir, I would see the lady and prepare her lunch,’ he said, not looking at Kling.
Kling regarded him, suddenly suspicious.
‘What goes on, kid?’ he demanded. ‘You’re not falling for that woman, are you?’
Ng felt his mouth turn dry.
‘Oh, no, sir,’ he said, clearing the table. ‘I just thought…’
‘You prepare my lunch,’ Kling growled. ‘Never mind about her. She hasn’t long to live, and there’s food there. Come on. Let’s swim.’
She hasn’t long to live!
Ng nearly cried out. Controlling himself, he carried the dishes into the kitchen, then went to his room and put on swim-shorts.
The two men, watched by Howard Jackson from his cabin window, went down to the sea.
As Ng swam he told himself he must be very careful. On no account must his master know of his feelings for Shannon. So, when after lunch, Kling said he wanted to be driven to Key West to look at the scene, Ng, with sinking heart, kept his face expressionless. As he drove, he kept thinking of Shannon, wondering what she was doing, and wondering and hoping she wouldn’t be disappointed that he hadn’t visited her.
Kling, apparently enjoying himself, went around Key West, visited the usual tourists’ haunts while Ng went with him.
They didn’t return to the Star Motel until 19.00.
‘Quite an outing, kid,’ Kling said. ‘Well, me for a shower and I’ll go to the Casino. How about you? Want to come along?’
‘Thank you, sir, but I will stay here.’ Ng thought he must return to Jamison’s villa in the hope the man he planned to kill would be there.
‘Please yourself, kid,’ Kling said, and went into his bedroom.
Half an hour later, Kling, showered, shaved and wearing a lightweight suit, came into the living-room where Ng was polishing the dining-table.
‘I’m off,’ Kling said. ‘Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be late.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Kling started to move to the door, then paused.
With his evil grin, he said, ‘Give me the key of the Whipping room, kid. I think I’d better keep it,’ and he held out his hand.
Ng felt as if a fist of iron had hit him under his heart. Somehow, he managed to keep his face expressionless.
‘But, sir…’ he began, but Kling cut him short.
With a snarl in his voice, he barked, ‘Give it to me!’
Slowly Ng took the precious key from his pocket and Kling snatched it from him.
‘See you, kid,’ he said with his evil grin and, dropping the key into his pocket, he left the cabin.
For a long moment of despair Ng stood motionless. He had first planned to visit Shannon before going to Jamison s villa. Now Kling had taken the key, this visit would be impossible. But why had Kling demanded the key?
Ng groaned to himself. His master must have guessed he was in love with this lovely woman!
The only solution was to kill Jamison!
Leaving the cabin, he walked the two hot miles to Jamison’s villa, arriving in the dark.
He wasn’t to know that Jamison was in New York, having flown back from Zurich, and didn’t plan to return to Paradise City until the following day so Ng had another weary, frustrated wait for more than four hours without seeing Jamison.
The following morning, as Ng, who had spent a sleepless night, was preparing Kling’s breakfast, he hard a rap on the cabin door. He found one of the bus-boys who thrust a card at him.
‘For Mr Kling,’ the boy said. ‘Express.’
When the boy left, Ng stared at the card. He saw it had a Swiss stamp and a Zurich postmark.
Scrawled on the card was the message:
Five of your best friends are waiting to see you here.
Ng felt a chill run through him. What did this mean? Could it mean…? He shivered, then he heard Kling come out of his bedroom.
‘Sir,’ he said. ‘Something for you.’
Kling, who had spent a good evening on the beach with a plump redhead, was in a good mood. He took the card, read the message, then released a soft yell of triumph that made Ng stiffen.
‘Kid! We’re home!’ Kling said, and gave Ng a slight punch on his chest. ‘I’ve got the money! Kid! Can you believe it? I’m worth five million dollars! Five million dollars! You hear me?’