The ferry ride to Hong Kong lasted an hour. There were no Middle Eastern types on board, or anyone else who rubbed me the wrong way.
We presented our passports to the customs authorities at the Shun Tak terminal in Hong Kong, then moved into the main lobby outside the arrivals gate.
I spotted the third one immediately. Another Arab, long hair, mustache, navy suit, white shirt open at the collar, stylish-looking pair of shades. Unlike the majority of the people waiting here to greet passengers from Macau, who were standing right in front of the arrivals exit, he was leaning casually against the railing at the back of the open-air center of the lobby. Apparently, my new friend was afraid to get too close, afraid he’d get spotted. In trying to find a less conspicuous position, though, he’d only made himself stand out more.
We took the down escalator at the front of the lobby. On the floor below, we had to walk around to the opposite side, then turn one hundred eighty degrees to catch the next escalator down. As we made the turn, I saw our pursuer, who I now thought of as Sunglasses, riding the escalator we had just used.
I paused to take a look in the window of a cigar store before catching the second escalator down. I moved so that Keiko was facing me, her back to the window.
“Keiko,” I said in Japanese, “do me a favor. Take a look behind us. Just glance around, okay? Don’t let your eyes linger on any one person. Tell me what you see.”
She looked past me and shrugged. “I don’t know, lots of people. What am I supposed to be looking for?”
“Do you see a foreigner? Arabic-looking guy? Don’t stare, just take a quick peek, then look at other people, look at the stores. You’re just bored waiting for me to finish window-shopping and you’re looking around, okay?”
“What’s going on?” she asked, and I heard some concern in her voice.
I shook my head and smiled. “Nothing to worry about.” I stepped into her field of vision to make her stop scoping the lobby, then placed my hand on her lower back and started moving her along with the pressure of my palm. “Okay, don’t look back. Just tell me what you saw.”
“There was an Arab man in a suit.”
“What was he doing?”
“Talking on a cell phone. I think he was watching us, but he looked away when he saw me looking around. Do you know him?”
“Sort of. It’s a little hard to explain.”
What did Ian Fleming say? Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action. And I don’t believe in waiting for even that much evidence. It was past time to act.
We caught a cab on the ground floor. I held the door as Keiko got in. Out of my peripheral vision I saw our friend loitering in front of a 7-Eleven a few meters from the taxi stand. I knew that, as soon as I was in and the door had closed behind me, he would be getting a cab of his own.
I used my dental mirror as we pulled away and saw that I had been right. Keiko watched me but didn’t say anything. I wondered what she was thinking. The driver didn’t seem to notice. He was absorbed in the variety show he had on the radio, the announcer’s voice frantic with artificial hilarity.
I had the driver take us to the Citibank next to the Central MTR subway station. One of my alter egos keeps a savings account with Citi. I carry his ATM card whenever I go out.
We went inside the bank, and Keiko waited while I withdrew fifty thousand Hong Kong dollars-about seven thousand U.S. The amount was over the ATM limit and I had to take care of it at the teller window. The clerk put the money in an envelope. I thanked him and walked over to Keiko.
“How about some shopping?” I asked her, showing her the bulging envelope. We were surrounded by Hermès, Prada, Tiffany, Vuitton, and others that I knew she craved. “I’d like to buy you some new things, if you want.”
She smiled and her eyes lit up. “Hontou?” she said. Really? Probably she was glad that whatever that weirdness with the Arab guy was seemed to be over.
I walked us to the Marks & Spencer up the street, a destination that interested me less because of the store’s wares than because of its design. The front was all plate glass, and offered a clear view of the street outside. Keiko and I browsed among the silk and cashmere, and I watched Sunglasses and two recently arrived companions setting up outside, two in front of the HSBC bank, the other in front of a Folli Follie jewelry store.
The way they were assembling, I was getting the feeling that they were no longer just in “following” mode. If they had been, they wouldn’t have positioned themselves so closely together-a configuration that tends to be counterproductive for surveillance, but has certain advantages for a hit. They were getting ready, ready to move, and they wanted their forces in place, concentrated, good to go when the moment was right.
All right, time for me to head out. Alone.
I walked over to Keiko and took her gently by the arm.
“Keiko, listen to me carefully. Something bad is going on. I’ll tell you what you need to know to get out of it.”
She shook her head slightly as if to clear it. “I’m sorry?”
“There are some men following me. The Arab with the cell phone is one of them. They intend to do me harm. If you’re with me, they’ll harm you, too.”
She gave me a hesitant smile, as though hoping I was going to smile back and tell her the whole thing was a joke. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t… I don’t understand.” The smile widened for a second, then faltered.
“I know you don’t, and I don’t have time to explain. Here, take this.” I handed her the envelope. “There’s enough in there to get you back to Japan, and then some. You’ve got your passport. Get to the airport and go.”
“Are you… is it that you’re not happy with me?” she asked, still thinking like a professional. But of her profession, not of mine.
“I’ve been very happy with you. Look at me. What I’m telling you is the truth. You need to get away from here now if you don’t want to get hurt. It’s me they’re after. They don’t care about you.” Before she could ask any more questions, I added, “Here’s what you need to do. Stay put for ten minutes. I’m going to leave and those men will follow me. After ten minutes, you leave, too. Go into one of the women’s stores nearby. Tell them you’re being hassled by a guy and want to lose him. He’s following you, waiting for you outside. They’ll let you out the back, which the men won’t be expecting. If it doesn’t work at the first one, try another.”
“I don’t-”
“Just listen. Use cabs. Go into stores that men don’t visit-lingerie, things like that. That’ll make it harder to follow you because I don’t think these guys work with women. Go in the front and out the back. Take a lot of elevators. It’s hard to stay with someone in an elevator without getting spotted. Stay in public places.”
She shook her head. “Why would… I don’t-”
“I don’t think anyone will follow you. You don’t matter to them. But I want to make sure, all right? I don’t want to take chances. When you know you’re alone, get to the airport and leave Hong Kong on the first flight you can get. Then go to Japan. Go home. You’ll be safe there.”
She shook her head again. “I have… I have things at the hotel. I can’t just go.”
“If you go back to the hotel, they’ll pick you up again and follow you in the hope that you’ll lead them to me.”
“But-”
“Your things aren’t worth dying over, Keiko. Are they?”
Her eyes widened.
“Are they?” I asked, again.