“Where are the suitcases?”
“The suitcases?”
I said impatiently: “The ones you want to take with you.”
“They’re in...in a warehouse in town, on Rua Querenta.”
“And what’s in them?”
“Money. Dollars from the States, I’ll split it with you, Cain. Just let me get them. Send for them. I’ll split it with you...A lot of money, more than three million dollars.”
I didn’t think it would be very kind to tell him it had all gone up in flames with the fireworks. I said mildly: “That’s a lot of money. No reason why I shouldn’t take all of it if I want to.”
He doubled up and groaned, the pains coming on now.
“Just let me...let me have...a few hundred thousand of it to get...to get away with. The rest...the rest is yours.” His voice was trailing off, and he looked at me with very glassy eyes and whispered: “Give me some of that cognac, for God’s sake.”
“No. Tell me where Ming is. Now, at this moment.”
“He’s at...at a bar on the main street, a place called The Essence of Heavenly Light.”
“He lives there?”
“No. He’s got a hideout somewhere, but the bar...the bar is one of his places, a sort of meeting place for the boys.”
I said: “When Sally Hyde first came here, she went straight to The Essence of Heavenly Light to leave a message for Ming that she was after his guts. How did she know where to go?”
He said, gulping in great drafts of air: “I told her.”
Well, that was a nice twist.
I said: “That’s something I’d like to know a great deal more about. Tell.”
He took a deep breath and said again: “Some brandy, for God’s sake.”
I poured him a glass and gave it to him, and yanked him to his feet and sat him down on a chair, like a civilized human being once more, I said: “All right, talk or I’ll set Tiger on you again.”
He drank down the cognac and held out his glass for a refill, and when I poured it, he said: “We were married, Sally and I, and it didn’t work out, so we got divorced. Her father, Markle Hyde, was against me right from the start. Well, the divorce didn’t work out either, and we’d been writing to each other for some time now, but secretly, because of him.”
“Or because of his money?”
“Because of both, I guess. Markle Hyde had used his money to ruin me financially. I didn’t have a penny left in the world, so...” His voice trailed off, not wanting to tell too loudly of treachery. And the pieces were dropping into place.
I said: “All these years, Ming must have heard of the great philanthropist Markle Hyde. And he never knew that he was really his old enemy Ben Stirani, did he? Until?”
He licked his lips. “That’s right.”
“Until what, Wentworth?”
He said, stammering: “Until...until I went to Ming and told him.”
“How did you know? It must have been a well-kept secret to have fooled so many people for so long. And I’m sure Sally would never have told you. She loved her father too much for that.”
As I spoke, it occurred to me that this was only a guess; how did I know she loved him? Because he loved her so much? And then Wentworth cleared it up for me. He said earnestly:
“No, that’s not true. Sally hated her father, though he never knew it. And one day, she told me why—because he was Ben Stirani.”
“And then, after the divorce, you told Ming. For money?”
“Yes.” His voice was a whisper.
“Well, we do know some nice people, don’t we? How did Sally know Ming was here in Macao? How did she know about The Essence of Heavenly Light?”
“I told her. We were still writing to each other once in a while.”
“Did you think to warn her not to try and tangle with a man like Ming?”
“All I knew was that she wanted to get in touch with him.”
“A likely story. You must have known she was going to try and kill him, for God’s sake.”
He tried to shrug, but the effort was too great. His face was white as a sheet. He said: “She’s a strange woman. You never know what she’s up to, not even what she’s thinking. The only thing that’s certain is that she hates her father. If he was fighting with Ming, she’d just automatically take Ming’s side. That’s the kind of woman she is.”
It didn’t ring true. I knew I would have to sort that bit later on. I said: “You spoke of a hideout somewhere. Where is it?”
He shook his head vehemently. “I don’t know, Cain. God help me, I don’t know. That’s not the kind of information that Ming shares with anybody. He’d kill anybody who even made a guess at where it was.” I let him talk. He went on: “I know he’s got a place somewhere, because he comes and goes all the time, but, so help me, I don’t know where it is.”
I said: “A simple I don’t know would have sounded more like the truth. You’re lying, Wentworth. You do know, don’t you? I’m surprised that you should, but I’m sure that you do. So tell me, and save yourself a lot of grief.”
