Last Resort (48 page)

"Please, don't walk out on me now. I know you want to, but..."

he lowered his head

"... please, don't go/ he said hoarsely, and without waiting for an answer he left.

Penny watched him until he'd disappeared through the garden; then, looking around her, she started across the vast, pale marble lobby with its numerous red sofas and glittering chandeliers. There were at least a hundred people either sitting or standing around in groups and 372

though she caught no one looking in her direction she had the distinct and uneasy feeling that someone was. When she reached the lift her heart began to thud as she waited for the doors to close, afraid that someone would get in with her. No one did.

When she got out on the fifteenth floor she was still alone. The floor attendant was at his desk, singing, and he treated her to a beaming smile as she passed.

"Good day, ma'am,"

he said.

"Hello, Teddy,"

she answered.

"How are you?"

His smile widened.

"I happy because my girlfriend call from Hong Kong last night,"

he told her.

Penny smiled. Then I'm happy for you/ she said, thinking how wonderfully benign and ingenuous the Filipinos were.

Tou enjoy your stay with us, ma'am?"

he said, falling into step beside her.

"Very much, thank you/ she said.

This your first time in Philippines?"

"Yes/

"Where you from, ma'am?"

Penny was about to answer when she suddenly realized that she couldn't remember what it said on her new passport. But what was the harm in telling this boy the truth?

"England/ she said.

He seemed pleased by her answer.

"I know you not American/ he told her.

"I can tell by voice. You live in London, ma'am?"

She nodded.

"I used to, yes."

"Where you work now?"

"France/ she said, wishing it were true.

"What you do there?"

he asked.

"I'm a journalist."

"That's nice, ma'am/ he said, taking her key card from her as they reached her room. Tou journalisting here in Manila?"

"No/ Penny smiled.

"Just visiting."

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Then enjoy your stay/ he said, pushing the door open for her.

A few moments later Teddy was back at his desk. There was no one else around as he picked up the phone and dialled the number he had been given the day before.

"Hello?"

a voice at the other end barked.

Ts Teddy/ he said.

"She here. She in room 1514."

"How do you know it's her?"

"She say she English. She say she work in France journalisting."

Penny had been standing at the window for some time, gazing down at the harbour. The sea was a metallic grey, the sky was translucent. There was none of the activity of Hong Kong harbour, just a few workmen meandering about the pier and a dozen or so tankers and container ships, resplendent in their ugliness, anchored randomly across the still waters of the bay.

Behind her the twin double beds, silent TV and empty bathroom seemed almost menacing in their obdurate stillness. After Teddy had closed the door she had left it unlocked until she'd checked that she was alone; then, after putting the chain across, she had taken an Evian water from the fridge and walked to the window, telling herself that she should be seizing this opportunity to leave. Her bags were there, already packed, except of course she wouldn't have taken anything with her. She tried to imagine how Christian would feel if he returned to find her gone, leaving behind everything he had given her. The hurt such an act would inflict on him wrenched at her heart and frowning, she closed her

eyes.

She'd thought that leaving Hong Kong and freeing themselves from the omnipresence of the Chinese would give her the chance to think more clearly, to decide how she was going to break it to Christian that she didn't 374

want to go on with him. But all it had done was bind her more tightly to him and bring a new edge to her fear that she was never going to find the courage to leave. Of course she would in the end, she'd have to, because she was even less capable of living a lie than she was of causing him pain. It seemed so pathetic, so ill-judged and absurd, to be giving such consideration to the feelings of a man who was wanted by the law for crimes she just knew were far more heinous than he'd told her. But trying to connect that man to the man who had asked her to marry him not an hour ago was impossible. He neither looked nor behaved like a criminal and were it not for the false passports and the residue of certainty that his Chinese contacts were Triad members she could almost believe that this was all some kind of elaborate trick. And in truth it was really only the shooting in Mongkok that persuaded her it wasn't. That and the unshakeable feeling of danger that, for no reason she could pinpoint, seemed to have increased since they'd left Hong Kong.

Leaning forward she rested her forehead against the window. She should get out of there now and she knew it. She should pick up her purse and take a taxi straight to the airport. So why didn't she? Why was she standing here, waiting for him and knowing that when he came back she would have to give him an answer she'd give almost anything not to have to face? She knew why, of course, she was afraid of who might be lurking in the hotel, who might be waiting even now for her to make her escape. If they were Christian's people, then she believed she had little more to fear than the awkwardness and pain of explaining to him why she had tried to leave. She might be a fool for thinking that way, but no matter what else he was capable of, nothing in the world would persuade her that Christian meant her any harm. But if they were Christian's enemies there was no knowing what they might do. Common sense alone told her

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that there had to be those who were afraid of how much she knew, those who would quite happily see her dead rather than run the risk of her telling what little she had learned. There might also be those who would see her as a means of exerting pressure on Christian, of increasing their power over him by employing methods of torture she didn't even want to think about. That was why she was still standing here, gazing out at the opaque waters of Manila harbour and the unsightly jungle of ships'

cranes.

She had already turned away, when something she had seen suddenly registered in her mind and she turned back to look again at the group of four men standing at the far end of the pier. Though the distance was sufficient to deceive, she was certain that one of them was Christian. Going quickly to their bags she rummaged inside one of them until she found the binoculars, almost dropping them as the telephone startled her. Ignoring it, she returned to the window and trained the glasses on the men at the end of the pier. She was right, it was Christian, and when she saw who was with him her blood ran cold. It was Benny Lao. She moved the glasses around a little, trying to get a look at the other two, but, though they seemed familiar, for the moment she couldn't quite place them.

And then it hit her. Of course: they were the customs officers who had been on duty at the private airfield when they'd flown in the day before. She frowned, wondering what they could be doing out there with Christian and Benny Lao. The shorter of the two officers was pointing out to sea, or, she thought, following the direction of his arm, maybe he was pointing at one of the container vessels.

"Oh God,"

she groaned aloud, lowering the glasses as the suspicion of what they were doing dawned on her. Of course, he was pointing at a ship: wasn't it just such vessels as these that were used to transport drugs? And 376

wasn't the sprawling archipelago of the Philippines as renowned for its role as a transhipment centre as it was for its easy corruption?

Looking through the binoculars again, she watched as they continued to gesticulate and discuss whatever business they were about. If she was right in her suspicions, then she'd be a fool to wait a moment longer. It made no difference whether it was heroin or marijuana - both were illegal; and if they were caught, then she, by mere association with Christian, would be as guilty as they. But her fear of what she could become embroiled in did nothing to eliminate the fear of who might be waiting for her downstairs...

As the dilemma hung unresolved in her mind she watched the four men begin to walk back along the pier and tried to make herself think clearly. Her heart began to race with the sudden speed of her thoughts as she attempted to weigh up which risk was the greater, to stay or to run. But how could she run when God only knew who might be waiting for her downstairs? She could always call hotel security; but even if she could think of a rational explanation for requesting an escort out of the building, once they'd seen her safely into a taxi there was every chance the taxi would be followed. A surge of panic gripped her as she realized she couldn't think of anything else. It was as though her mind had ceased to function. She was trapped here and, short of calling the British Embassy, there was nothing she could do. So why didn't she call the Embassy? Because, she realized despairingly, it would be tantamount to handing Christian over. And, fool that she was, she just couldn't do it.

She was so preoccupied with her dilemma that she didn't hear the faint rustle of a note being pushed under the door; nor, when she turned to the phone, did she see it.

As she picked up the receiver her heart was beating 377

hard. She'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't give in to this again, that somehow she would make herself accept that even if he could there was no reason in the world why David would want to help her. But she didn't know who else to turn to.

As she pressed out the number her stomach churned with nerves. The very thought of hearing his voice was making her fingers shake and her eyes burn with tears. It would be seven in the morning in France. Please God let him be there and please, please God let it be him who answered, not his wife.

David was in the shower when the telephone rang. Hearing it, he banged open the screen, leapt over the edge of the bath and ran into the bedroom.

"Hello?"

he snapped, grabbing a towel off the bed.

"Hello?"

His heart leapt as he heard the muffled echo of a satellite link. It was her.

It was her\

"Hello?"

he shouted, but after a faint buzzing the line went dead.

He turned as Stirling came to stand in the bedroom doorway, drawing on every ounce of self-control he had to stop himself smashing the receiver into the wall.

"It might have been Pierre,"

Stirling said.

David nodded and put the receiver back on its base. Yeah, it might have been, but it was rare to get a satellite delay from Hong Kong. Not from Manila, though, so it might have been Penny. It might be that the floor attendant had done what David asked: had slipped a note under her door telling her to stay right where she was, not to try to get away until he got there - and to call him if she could. He'd tried to reach her only minutes ago, but there'd been no reply. She should have been there, though; the boy, Teddy, had told him she was alone in her room. So why hadn't she answered the phone?

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Shaking his head, he turned and walked back to the bathroom. There could be any number of reasons why she hadn't answered then and even more why she hadn't spoken just now, but to torment himself with them would serve no purpose. Besides, there was every chance he was fooling himself here. The call might not have been from Penny and, even if it had been, what was there to say that she'd been calling for help? He still had no idea what her feelings were for Mureau, but since she had made no attempt to turn him in he could only conclude that she loved him so much she was prepared to overlook everything just to be with him. That was presuming, of course, that she knew the truth about Mureau. But no, that couldn't be the case. He was sure, he would stake his life on it, that Mureau had not divulged his connection with David. Maybe it would make no difference to Penny were she to know, but David just couldn't bring himself to accept that. OK, maybe he was fooling himself again; loving her the way he did and being so god-damned afraid for her, it would be easy to lose sight of his judgement. But he couldn't just stand by and watch her ruin her life. He had somehow to get her out of there, whether she wanted it or not, and the price he would have to pay for doing so was something he'd think about later.

Turning back, he looked across at Stirling.

"Do you want to make the call or shall I?"

Stirling asked.

David stood still, tensing with the revulsion of what Stirling was referring to. He knew he had little choice but to go ahead with it now.

"Do it,"

he said shortly; then, kicking the door closed behind him, he returned to the shower.

Penny looked across the room at Christian. He was stand-th8 the d r"

readin8 a note ne had )ust picked up from the floor. Her hand was still on the receiver; her heart was

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crying with the torment of having heard David's voice only to have been forced to cut the call short. She slid her hand carefully into her lap, before Christian noticed where it was.

When he'd finished reading the note he pushed it into his pocket and looked up. Penny's heart turned over as she saw how pale he was.

"What is it?"

she whispered.

Briefly he shook his head, but as he tried to force himself to smile his mouth twisted and he averted his head.

"Christian!"

she cried, moving swiftly across the room.

"What is it? What's happened? Oh my God,"

she murmured as she took his hands from his face and saw the tears.

"Christian, please, tell me what's happened."

"It's no good,"

he said brokenly as he pulled her into his arms.

"I can't do this to you. I can't go on making you suffer like this, I love you too much."

"What are you saying?"

she said, gently pulling back to look into his face.

Tou know what I'm saying,"