“You call for cab, mister?” said Woo, displaying his trademark grin.
“Sunni, meet my friend T.Y. and his son Chen Chen,” Bond said. “Fellows, this is Sunni.”
“Welcome and hello,” T.Y. said to her. “We take you somewhere nice, uh huh?”
Sunni managed a smile, but she was still too shaken to speak. She was silent throughout the entire ride as Bond apprised Woo of the evening’s events.
“There goes your cover,” Woo said. “I do not know many journalists who carry guns and shoot Triads in residential housing, uh huh?”
“I’m just going to have to steer clear of the Dragon Wing boys while I’m here. I hope I haven’t compromised anything with Thackeray. I’ll just need to watch my back on the street.” He turned to Sunni. “Do you know a man named Guy Thackeray?”
She shook her head. He believed her.
“Any news from London?” he asked.
“Nothing,” said Woo.
“What about Australia?”
“No one claim responsibility yet. Authorities are clueless. I got report from M. Section A’s early findings indicate device was definitely home-made, probably created in crude laboratory. Sounds like someone independent. No affiliation with particular country. It could also be some stupid research lab, illegally experimenting with nuclear power.”
Bond thought Woo’s theories were sound. There were a lot of companies in the world that had the capability of harnessing nuclear power. The fact that no threats or extortion messages had been received by anyone now seemed to be a positive sign. Perhaps it was merely an act of careless experimentation by an irresponsible energy company, with no intent to harm.
It was 10:00 p.m. by the time the cab arrived at Upper Lascar Row on the island. They all entered the antiques shop and went up the stairs to the safe haven. Woo showed Sunni a room where she could be alone if she wanted. Bond poured himself a glass of straight vodka on ice and drank it quickly. “T.Y., I need to do something about this arm. And quickly.”
“I already made call. I know good doctor, he is on his way now. Works for safe house.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later a little Chinese man named Dr Lo arrived. After half an hour, Bond’s wound had been sterilized and stitched up. It still hurt, but he could live with it.
“I’m going to need some clothes from my hotel,” he told Woo.
“No problem. All taken care of. Chen Chen will collect your things in morning, uh huh? Right now I fix some noodles for you and girl.”
“T.Y., she’s going to need a foreign passport. She’s in danger and I want to get her out.”
Woo frowned. “M will not like that.”
“Bad luck,” Bond said. “Sunni provided some valuable information and now we need to protect her. She damned near saved my life at that building. She’s one hell of a fighter.”
“I see what I can do,” Woo said.
Bond finished his vodka. Shirtless, Bond knocked on Sunni’s door. She said, “Come in.”
She was lying in a foetal position on a double bed in the sparsely furnished room. “Are you hungry, Sunni? T.Y. is making us some dinner.” She shook her head. Bond sat down on the bed beside her. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you a foreign passport. You’ll be able to stay here safely until you leave.”
“Where am I going?” she asked quietly.
“Where would you like to go?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really care.”
“Well, we’ll try England for starters, all right?”
She shrugged. The poor girl had been through a lot—the realization that she was marked for death by the Triad, the discovery of her dead mother, and the traumatic escape from her building—it was enough to make anyone a complete wreck. Sunni had a great deal of fortitude. Bond leaned over and kissed her cheek, then stood up and left her alone.
It was later, after they had eaten a delicious meal of noodles and chicken (Sunni decided to join them but ate very little), and had all retired to their respective beds, that Sunni slipped into Bond’s room.
He woke up when he felt her presence in the room. She was wearing a t-shirt and panties and stood barefoot by the bed, looking at him.
Without a word, he pulled the sheet down, offering her a place beside him. She slipped into the bed and snuggled next to him. Her body was warm and soft, and her legs felt smooth against his. They kissed, slowly at first, then with more passion as their desire increased. After a few minutes, she pulled off her t-shirt and pressed her breasts against his chest. She enjoyed the feel of the hair there, as she wasn’t used to it. Most Asian men lacked hair on their chests.
She opened up to him that night, over and over again. He filled her with strength and security, helping her achieve a release from the demons that had tormented her since the evening began. She needed the climaxes, for they allowed her to forget her troubles and lose herself in a floating world of ecstasy and passion. It was three or four hours later when, totally spent, they finally fell asleep in each other’s arms.
ELEVEN
ASSASSINATION
SHOOTOUT IN KOWLOON
Royal Hong Kong Police say that two incidents of gunfire in public yesterday may be related. The first occurred in Tsim Sha Tsui East near the nightclub Zipper, where a twenty-two-year-old man was shot by an unknown assassin. A little over an hour later, at a residential building in Kwun Tong, seven men were found dead and two seriously injured. Two of the men were found shot in a flat owned by Sunni Pei, who is reported missing. Her mother, Pui-Leng Pei, was also found dead in the flat, but it is believed she died of natural causes. Police suspect Triad activity is behind the two incidents …”
ZERO MINUS SEVEN: 24 JUNE 1997, 3:55 P.M.
The papers were full of yesterday’s news, for shootouts on the streets of Hong Kong were surprisingly uncommon. James Bond had made a point of examining SIS reports on the colony’s crime status before leaving England. According to these, Hong Kong was perhaps the most crime-free city in Asia. Gun control was very tight, and obtaining arms was difficult even for criminal organizations. The Royal Hong Kong Police was one of the most efficient forces in the world.
It was unfortunate that Sunni’s name and picture were prominently displayed in the paper. Now she would definitely be a target. It would be even more problematic getting her out of Hong Kong. At least Bond hadn’t been identified. Otherwise he would have had to listen to M blame it on him getting involved with “a tart.”
Bond put the news behind him and concentrated on the new task at hand. It was time for Guy Thackeray’s mysterious press conference.
EurAsia Enterprises’ corporate headquarters was located in a thirty-four-storey building in the heart of Hong Kong’s busy Central district. Nearby were such landmarks as the Bank of China Building, the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank Building, Jardine House, Government House, and Statue Square.
James Bond arrived for the press conference early, just in time to learn that the event had been moved to nearby Statue Square for reasons unknown. It was a beautiful day, if a bit hot and humid. Perhaps Thackeray thought an outdoor setting would be more pleasant. The square was nondescript for the most part, save for the statue of Sir Thomas Jackson, a former manager of the Hongkong Bank. There was a time when it had held several statues of British monarchs, but these had been removed long ago. A neoclassical domed building next to it housed the Legislative Council Chambers, the future of which would become uncertain in six days’ time. Folding chairs had been set up in a roped-off area, and security guards were checking the identification of reporters desiring a seat.