Chapter 47
47
I t was raining slightly when my driver picked me up at 2 AM.
I paid him 10,000 Hong Kong dollars up front – our new arrangement for keeping him up so late for only a few hours – and he drove me to De Sade.
After five minutes of being unable to see anything through the rain-smeared windows, I grew restless.
“I’m going for a walk,” I announced.
“Mrm,” my driver mumbled sleepily as he continued to nap.
I exited the car and walked towards the end of the alleyway.
The rain was only a light drizzle. My suit would be fine, but the water would probably wreak hell on my Gucci shoes.
I didn’t care. If there was even a chance I could glimpse Mei-ling, I would have gladly thrown everything I was wearing into the ocean.
As it turned out, I got much more than a glimpse.
As soon as I reached the end of the alleyway, a figure appeared around the corner.
It was a woman in a trench coat and short black dress, her face only half-visible in the darkness –
Mei-ling.
And she was pointing her .22 Smith nothing else mattered.
I turned towards the car, then glanced back at her. “You might want to hide the gun.”
She scowled but stuck her hand inside her trench coat pocket. The barrel poked quite obviously against the material. “Don’t try anything – I’m still pointing it at you.”
“I gathered,” I said drily as I walked towards the car.
I rapped my knuckles on the door. My driver started awake with a jolt and rolled down the window.
“You can go,” I said. “Thank you.”
I emptied my wallet and offered him the rest of my cash – a fairly thick wad of bills.
He stared at me in confusion, then looked at Mei-ling.
I wasn’t sure if he could see the shape of the gun barrel poking through her trench coat, but I could tell he didn’t trust her.
I glanced over my shoulder at Mei-ling. “He only speaks Cantonese. Please tell him he can go and that I won’t need his services anymore. And thank him for me.”
She spoke several sentences.
The driver looked up at me questioningly. “…okay?”
He was asking if I was alright.
I smiled and nodded. “I’m okay.”
“…okay…” he said warily as he took the money. Then he said something in Cantonese.
“He said ‘thank you,’” Mei-ling translated.
I smiled at him again, gave a single nod, and held up one hand in farewell.
The driver nodded, looked worriedly at Mei-ling one last time, then cranked the engine and drove away.