Not My Thing

Lepski slid out of his car. He was elated. It looked as if his hunch was paying off! Cautiously, he walked down the ramp of the underground garage in time to see the elevator’s indicator show that the cage had gone to the top floor.

Returning to his car, he now felt almost certain that Sherman Jamison’s wife was hidden on the top floor of Lucy Loveheart’s brothel.

With the patience of a dedicated cop, Lepski lit a cigarette, settled himself and awaited further developments.

Unaware that he had been watched, Ng stood before the door of the Whipping room, his heart thumping. He clutched the bouquet of flowers. He tapped on the door. When he heard nothing, he tapped again.

Shannon who had passed a restless night, hearing the persistent tapping, started up from the bed. With a clutch of fear, she called, ‘Who is it?’

‘It’s Kim, ma’am,’ Ng said. ‘May I come in?’

Shannon gave a gasp of relief. She felt she could handle this odd Vietnamese.

‘Yes, come in. Give me five minutes.’ She slid out of the bed and went into the bathroom.

‘I’m sorry to be so early, ma’am,’ Ng said as he entered the living-room. ‘I wanted to give you breakfast.’

Shannon didn’t hear any of this as she was in the bathroom.

Finding a vase, Ng filled it with water and arranged the flowers. He set the vase on the table, then went into the kitchen and made coffee.

He was setting the table as Shannon came in. She was wearing a kimono that Lucan had bought and, to Ng, she looked so beautiful he caught his breath.

‘Ma’am, some toast?’ he asked, regarding her with adoring eyes.

‘No, thank you. Coffee will be fine,’ Shannon said, then, seeing the flowers, she exclaimed, ‘How lovely! Thank you, Kim. How kind you are!’

‘It is nothing, ma’am.’ He poured the coffee. ‘I do hope you found the food acceptable. I have been worrying. These frozen packs aren’t much.’ He held a chair for her to sit down at the table. ‘I would so much like to cook you a good lunch. Would you allow me to do this, please? I can prepare you an excellent meal of saffron rice chicken with lychee. Would you like that, ma’am?’

Shannon stirred sugar into her coffee, her mind active. She had now come to the conclusion that this odd Vietnamese youth had fallen in love with her.

‘That sounds marvellous, Kim.’ She forced a smile. ‘I’d love that.’

‘I will arrange it, ma’am. It will give me great pleasure.’

She sipped the excellent coffee and regarded him.

‘Kim, please be frank with me. I feel you are a friend. I am a prisoner here, and I do realize how fortunate I am to have such a nice, kind jailer. I am worried. My husband and I don’t get along any more.’ She put down the cup. ‘He wants to marry another woman. I keep asking myself if he will pay the ransom for me to be released.’

Ng nodded.

‘Oh, yes, ma’am. I’ve already told you. He will have to pay the ransom. My master has him in a squeeze. You have nothing to worry about.’

‘What squeeze?’ Shannon asked, forcing her voice to sound casual.

‘That I can’t tell you, ma’am. I promise you, when the ransom is paid, you will be safe.’

‘There is another thing that worries me,’ Shannon said, looking directly at Ng. ‘A few months ago, my husband suffered a heart attack. Suppose he had a fatal attack before the ransom was paid. What would happen to me?’

Ng stared at her.

‘Whatever happens, you will go free.’ He moved to the door. ‘I will arrange your lunch. You have nothing to worry about.’

As he rode down in the elevator, his mind churned with excitement.

Here was the solution!

With Jamison dead, there would be no ransom. This lovely woman would be freed. His master would lose interest. No money… no killing.

He felt confident he could get into Jamison’s villa and kill him.

That was the solution!

There was time. First, he wanted to show this lovely woman how well he could cook. As he walked up the ramp of the garage, he reminded himself of the ingredients he would have to buy.

As he hurried along the sidewalk towards the big self-service store, Lepski slid out of his car and followed him.

9

Jamison’s executive jet touched down at the Zurich airport at 09.30.

The previous afternoon he had told Smyth to alert his pilot to be ready to take off for Switzerland, and for Smyth to book a suite at the Baur au Lac hotel, and to alert Maurice Felder, the President of the Swiss branch of the Jamison Computer Organization, that he wished to see him, immediately he arrived.

Jamison was met by one of the senior executives who carried his bag, saw him through the douane and to the Rolls Royce that the hotel used to meet VIP clients.

He was received at the hotel with obsequious bows and conducted to a suite overlooking the lake. Having shaved, showered and changed, Jamison went down to the hotel entrance where the Rolls drove him to the sumptuous offices of the Corporation.

Maurice Felder, the President, received him with a warm handshake.

‘Most unexpected, Mr Jamison,’ he said as Jamison sat down. ‘A very pleasant, and gratifying surprise.’