“I understand,” I replied. “And you found nothing unusual with anything Police Forensics handed over?”
“No, Craig. I’m sorry. Hate to admit it – but right now I’m drawing a complete blank.”
Chapter 24
I WAS STARVING – it suddenly hit me as I left Darlene’s lab and strode into reception. Johnny was there talking to our receptionist, Colette. Justine was coming toward us through the main doors a few feet away. She looked hot and flustered.
“I feel like I’m going to get sunstroke every time I step outside,” she declared.
I laughed. “I thought LA was hot.”
“Yeah, but not like this!”
I grinned and glanced at my watch. “I’m going to grab a snack. You hungry?” I asked her. “Or how about a frappaccino?
She looked surprised for a moment. “Great.”
There was a café on the ground floor. We got coffee and muffins and started to head back to the elevator. I checked my watch again, realized I had a spare thirty minutes.
“You got anything to do for half an hour or so, Justine?”
She shook her head as she sipped the frappaccino through a straw.
“Well then, I know just the place for you. I think you’ll appreciate it.”
“Oh!” she said. “A man of mystery …”
Chapter 25
WE WALKED DOWN Macquarie Street close to Circular Quay. Straight ahead of us stood the Opera House, the tiers of wide steps leading to its massive windows just a couple of dozen yards away. People were sitting on the steps drinking Slurpees, coffee, Coke. We turned onto the Quay and I pointed out the sights to Justine. She was quiet, taking it all in, but not “oohing” and “ahhing” as some tourists might. I liked that.
We walked in the shade, an arcade of shops to our left. An aboriginal man was playing a didgeridoo over a hip-hop beat spilling from an iPod plugged into a big speaker.
“Very post-modern!” Justine observed. “So where exactly are you taking me?”
“Don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
We came to a bar, tables and umbrellas outside, families eating late breakfast. A big flat screen on the wall inside was showing a soccer game from the English Premier League, Chelsea vs. Tottenham. I led the way through the bar and up a flight of stairs. On the wall was a small sign. It said: ICE BAR.
“What’s this?” Justine asked and spun round, puzzled.
I stepped up to the counter. A few other customers milled about. Sixty seconds later, I had two tickets in my hand and guided Justine around a corner. An immaculately tanned blonde was waiting for us by a rack of fur coats.
Justine turned to me again.
“Okay, this is the deal,” I said. “You want to cool down? The Ice Bar is set to minus twenty Fahrenheit. Everything is made from ice including the cocktail glasses. We stay in for a drink – twenty minutes. You’ll feel a lot cooler by the end of it.”
I had to laugh as Justine pulled on a nerdy fur-lined anorak and mittens. It wasn’t really her. But she seemed to be loving it all. We went into the antechamber to acclimatize. Here, it was just 18oF. From there we went into the Prep Room, temperature, five degrees. Then the door to the bar swished open and we were inside. The digital thermometer on the wall told us it was minus 20oF … and it felt it, even through the thick socks, the boots, the fur-lined anorak and the mittens.
The floor was covered with ice. The chairs around the walls were made of ice, the bar was ice. Everything backlit electric blue.
“This is fantastic, Craig!” Justine beamed, her breath steamy and fragrant. She sipped at the cocktail and I glimpsed the side of her face as the light from the bar caught it. “I could look at that face and never grow weary of it,” I thought to myself.
Chapter 26
THE HO MANSION was in Mosman, a few hundred yards from Taronga Zoo. It was new and vulgar and stuck out like a sore thumb among the genteel old-money houses built at the turn of the nineteenth century.
Buzzed in through an electrically operated gate, Mary and I strode up a gravel path that passed over a pond filled with koi. A Malaysian maid met us at the front door and showed us into a grandiose circular hall. A young Chinese guy in a blue tailored suit appeared in an archway to the right of the hall. He had an earpiece in place, a wire disappearing into his shirt collar. I noticed the bulge of a firearm under his jacket.
I showed him my ID.
“You’re early,” he said and indicated we should follow him along a corridor leading away under the arch. We hung a right, then a left. I glimpsed huge rooms – a gym, a home theater, a couple of living areas, each with the floor space of an average apartment.