Page 13 of Roberto

“I need to make a phone call before we leave,” I said.

“We depart in five minutes,” the Frenchman said. “Do you need more time than that?”

“No, that will be plenty. Thank you.”

As the pilot returned to the cockpit, I pulled out my phone.

“Who are you calling?” Niccolo asked.

“The Syndicate.”

“It’s the middle of the night in Hong Kong.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you calling them?”

“To let them know we’re coming.”

Niccolo’s eyes bugged out. “They don’tknow?!”

“They will in the morning. Now be quiet for a minute, if that’s even possible.”

After a recording in English informed me that the Hong Kong Gaming Syndicate was closed for the evening and they would return my call in the morning, I said, “This is a message for Mr. Lau. This is Roberto Rosolini, your Italian investor. I’ll be in town tomorrow afternoon and would like to meet. My plane arrives at 4 PM, and I’m assuming it will take at least an hour to reach you, so I’ll be at your offices around 5 PM. Perhaps we can have dinner together. See you soon.”

Then I hung up.

Niccolo shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable – you know that?”

“I don’t want to give them too much advance warning.”

“What, that you’re coming to beg with your hat in hand?”

“More or less.”

Niccolo laughed ruefully. “I guess it doesn’t matter. If you get the money, then it will all be worth it. If you don’t, then we’re fucked, and this was just a very short, veryexpensivevacation.”

“But one we can claim as a deduction.”

“That’s why you’re the money man,” he joked. “Here we are on the eve of Armageddon, and you’re thinking about how you can write it off on our taxes.”

9

Dinner was served an hour after we were in the air. For a pre-prepared meal, it was quite good.

Though for 375,000 euros, it damn well shouldhave beenstupendous.

After the stewardess cleared away the dishes, she dimmed the lights and closed the shades on the windows to block out the sun in the morning.

Once the cabin was dark and the stewardess was gone, Niccolo leaned his seat back to go to sleep.

“Why are you going?” I asked.

“What, to Hong Kong?”

“No, to Timbuktu. YES, to Hong Kong.”

“Actually, I’mnotgoing to Hong Kong. Not to stay, anyway.”

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