‘Look, Lisa, something has happened. I think we should meet.’
‘Uncle? What’s happened?’
He could hear the change in her voice.
‘Nothing,’ he tried to reassure her, unsuccessfully. ‘Just something small, something very small, but I want to talk to you about it.’
‘OK, do you want to come over here or shall I come to you…?’
‘No,’ he interrupted. ‘It’s such a nice night, why don’t we meet at that place you wanted to go to, the one your friend owns.’
‘But you said you hated the look of it.’
The professor did hate the look of it. It was red and shiny and the seats were plastic. The waitresses there had nametags that declared they were happy to serve you and their uniforms were too clean and too pressed. The professor liked his waitresses to look a little harried, a little unkempt; it made you think that the restaurant was busy and that the food was brought to the tables quickly. The same as you didn’t want your furniture to look as if it had just been made, you didn’t want your waitress to look as though she had just been washed.
Times, however, were desperate and it was a fool who would suggest he meet his niece at either hers or his.
‘Yes, a great mind, however, can always be changed. Remember that.’
‘Well, I guess you’re right.’
‘What I want you to do is call a cab, don’t walk. Take a cab to the place and if I am not there waiting outside go straight in and get a table.’
‘OK, uncle, but I really think you should tell me what’s up.’
‘There’s no need and there really isn’t the time.’
He put the phone down and went to the cupboard where he found his coat. He put it on, and his hat, and walked to the door. He turned and stopped. Quickly he went into the bathroom where he had left the book on the floor. He picked it up and placed it inside his pocket. With one last look over his shoulder he shut the door and ventured out into the hallway.
Outside the air was crisp and clear. The smell from the docks made its way through the streets and seemed to permeate everything with a thick salty odour. The professor decided to get a cab at the stand just around the corner from his apartment building. With his hand in his pocket clutching the book he strode up to the first car. He looked in the window. The driver was asleep with a cigarette dangling between his lips. The professor knocked on the window and made the man inside wake with a start.
‘Benji’s?’ the professor asked.
The cab driver rubbed his eyes, thought for a moment then flicked his head backwards toward the back seat. ‘Get in.’
All the way there the professor looked behind him. It was a journey of about ten minutes but it seemed to last hours. About halfway through the driver looked into his rear view mirror.
‘You running?’
The professor replied, looking forward, ‘Running?’
‘Yeah, you keep looking out that window, you got to be running from someone.’
‘No, I’m not running.’
‘You sure look like you’re running. I have seen runners and they always look out the back window. You know a runner, they always want to look out the window.’
The professor replied again, ‘I’m not running. I am making sure I am not being followed.’
‘They in a blue Nissan?’
The professor started. ‘I have no idea.’
The driver nodded to himself wisely. ‘Yeah, they’re in a blue Nissan, been following ever since we left. They police?’
The professor felt embarrassed and a little grieved at this. ‘Not at all.’
‘They gangs? Lot of gangs nowadays, betting, drugs, girls, you name it they deal in it.’
‘It’s none of those things… in fact I have no idea who they are.’
‘Ah,’ the driver said scratching his nose with the corner of his driver’s identification card. ‘That’s the worst kind.’
The cab pulled up outside the restaurant and the professor got out. He gave the driver the fare, and the driver leaned out towards him.
‘If you’re ever in trouble,’ he said, ‘Call my cousin, Joey Hutchins.’
He handed over a dirty tattered calling card that looked as if it had been printed in an airport. ‘He’s little crazy these days, but still good, still reliable… if you are desperate.’
The professor took the card. He was desperate.
He could see Lisa was already inside.
In the restaurant the professor thought it was too loud and too light. Everywhere he looked, pink and blue waitresses with nametags moved with an energy that was almost superhuman, their eyes twinkling like robots, their legs barely moving as they skipped between tables. The music that played was a mixture of loud banging and heavy guitar; needless to say the professor hated it. He had never particularly understood music at the best of times, even less when it was forced in your ears in a kind of aural enema that left you feeling as though someone had sponged your thoughts. At least here, however, it was light and the music made it hard for anyone to overhear.
He looked behind him at the street as he closed the door but could see no blue Nissan. Perhaps the cabby had been wrong, he thought to himself, they have been known to be… on occasion.
Lisa was seated at a table and waved to the professor across the floor. Seated with her was a tall, nervous looking Englishman, Fraser. He had met Lisa at university when they were both studying and had gone on to work in one of the bigger Hong Kong banks. He stood up as the professor neared the table, and shook his hand. ‘Hello professor, nice to meet you again.’ They had only met on a number of occasions. Lisa, next to him, looked worried.
‘Uncle, I hope you don’t mind me bringing Fraser, only I didn’t know what to think. I was worried when you said you wanted to meet up. What is this all about? You look terrified.’
The professor sat down heavily and ordered a glass of water. ‘My apartment…’ he stumbled. ‘Someone was watching me through the window — they phoned and threatened me.’
‘Why on earth would they do that?’ Lisa asked.
‘The book. They wanted the book.’
‘The book the girl gave you?’
‘Yes.’
The professor looked at Fraser. He didn’t know if he could be trusted. Friends, it seemed, were hard to come by at the moment so he pushed on.
‘They phoned, and said that the girl today had been killed. Lisa, she didn’t kill herself, someone else did.’
Lisa looked shocked. Fraser dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
‘Whatever do they want with the book?’ Lisa asked.
‘I have no idea,’ the professor said. ‘But whatever it is, they will do anything to get it, even kill.’
They were interrupted by the waitress. ‘Can I take your order?’ she asked with a friendliness that the professor found off-putting.
After they had ordered, the professor told Lisa and Fraser about the cab ride to the restaurant. They both sat, dumbfounded, through his story, hearing but not hearing, listening but not quite understanding. To them it sounded like the ravings of an old man who had spent too many years inside dusty classrooms. The professor began to see their doubt. He sighed.
‘I can see you are not with me,’ he said.
Lisa smiled. ‘Uncle, of course I am with you. It’s just… well, a little hard to take in. This is a book after all.’
Fraser leaned forward. ‘Have you got the book, Professor?’
He reached into his pocket, removed the book and handed it to Fraser, who gave it a cursory glance. Turning it over in his hands he opened the front cover. ‘Looks like it’s a book about Chinese Buddhist temples.’
Lisa laughed. ‘We are aware of that.’
Fraser shrugged this off. ‘Looks like some kind of calf skin, nicely done. Would have been a beauty a few years back. We see these in the bank, believe it or not. People leave them in deposit boxes, god knows what for. Suppose they think they’re worth something. Only Americans ever bring them.’