South Sea Gold: Chapter Thirty-Two

Shark stopped, dumbfounded. The wound in his shoulder had made him drop the knife. He glanced down at it lying at his feet and started to retrieve it. Without rising from her chair, Linda fired again, tearing his shirt and grazing his left arm. "Don't even think about it," she said. His bravado rapidly ebbing, he turned and ran out the door, trailing drops of blood on the pristine carpet in the hall.

"You spilled your drink, Simpson," Linda said. "Are you quite all right?"

Simpson mopped his brow with a trembling hand. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?" he said.

"First in marksmanship class at boarding school, three years running. As I mentioned the other day, I have many assets."

"I thought you were referring to assets of an entirely different sort." he said.

"Those, too. If you'd like to come over some other time, I could show them to you. But I expect we are about to have callers, so perhaps now is not the right time." She picked up the jangling telephone. "Yes?" She heard an excited desk clerk on the line. "We are quite all right," she said. "We had a raskol at the door, demanding money. You might let the police know that the man left his knife here. I suppose his fingerprints are on it. Thank you for calling." She replaced the phone on its stand. "Simpson, you will find a towel in the bathroom. You seem to have spilled some of your drink on yourself."

Twenty minutes later, the police arrived. A constable knocked at the half-open door and peered cautiously into the room. After making sure there were no casualties on site, he ordered his backup man to follow the trail of blood and arrest the man at its other end, and see what medical help might be required. He then asked for Linda's gun, bagged it so as not to add his own finger prints, and started taking names and facts.

"Now then, just what happened here, Miss?" The constable assumed that Simpson was merely a stunned spectator; it was the woman who had the gun, after all.

"This stranger knocked on the door, and said one of my associates had made an appointment for him to see me. I allowed him in to explain further. It turned out he wanted money for some job he said he had done, or was going to do; I didn't quite understand what. I told him quite plainly that we didn't need him. He became angry when I refused to give him money. He pulled a knife, and I shot him in self defense."

The constable glanced at Simpson, who nodded in agreement.

"I'll need to see your gun permit and some identification." the constable said to Linda. She proffered her passport from the People's Republic of China, and a folded document in Chinese. He frowned at the Chinese form. "I need something from the PNG government, he said. She rummaged in her purse once more and found a paper from the airport customs office. He frowned again in perplexity. "Why are you in Papua New Guinea?"

"My husband is a senior consultant engineer, for the Ministry of Mines," Linda said.

The policeman turned to Simpson. "You are the husband?"

Simpson shook his head. "Business associate." The constable noted the particulars of Simpson's passport as well.

The constable's sergeant arrived, questioned them both, and confiscated both the knife and pistol, carefully preserving both for fingerprints. "We have the suspect in custody," he told them. "Wasn't much of a problem. He was hiding in a nearby alley. Didn't seem aware that he was leaving a trail of blood. Both of you will have to come down to the station to identify him. I must caution you both to not leave the country while the case is under investigation. The desk clerk at the station will give you receipts for these passports." 

At The Journal office, City Desk editor Jon Sinto hung up his phone. "Tom, here's an assignment for you. A robber accosted a Chinese woman in her hotel room, demanding money, and she shot him after he pulled a knife. They're all over at police headquarters now."

Matt Linn was visiting Tom's office, and pricked up his ears. "Chinese tourist shoots raskol invading her hotel room? Sounds like my kind of item for the Hong Kong Chronicle. Okay if I come along?"

The two reporters entered the duty sergeant's area just as the handcuffed and bandaged Shark was being led to a holding cell. Simpson and Linda were sitting in the row of chairs along one wall. After talking with the desk sergeant, Tom approached them. "Hello. I'm from the Port Moresby Journal. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? Matt, as he often did when he went along with Tom, prepared to take a photo with his digital camera.

Linda immediately said "No pictures!" and turned her face downward. Tom motioned Matt to back off.

"Just questions then, is that alright?" Tom tried to speak soothingly. Police stations often stressed people out, he realized. "I'm impressed with your prompt and effective action with the intruder, Ms. er . . .?"

"We've already given the necessary facts to the police," said Simpson. "For reasons of personal privacy we don't wish to be interviewed."

"I understand," said Tom. "Our readers, of course, are always interested in cases where a victim turns the tables on a raskol. They consider it a most praiseworthy action."

"As I said, we prefer to maintain our privacy," said Simpson.

"I'll respect your wish to remain anonymous," said Tom. He motioned Matt to the stairway. "Let's stop by and see if there are any new developments with Jason Kerro."

"Interesting that you should ask," said the inspector, a few minutes later when they were seated in his small laboratory office. We still have young Petey in protective custody, you know. He's always been afraid to be released out on the street. Half an hour ago, one of the jailers reported that he's suddenly very anxious to get out of here."

"Why?"

"Don't know. He seems afraid."

"Has someone on the staff abused him?" asked Tom.

"I don't think so," said Kerro, "We try to be strict about preventing that."

"Some new prisoner?" asked Matt

"Not that I know of. We just brought in that man the Chinese lady shot. I don't know about him yet."

Matt suddenly spoke up. "I think I've seen that woman before. Up in Hong Kong, or maybe in the casinos across the bay in Macau. Linda—"Grand Duchess Linda"—she's sometimes called. A social climber in society up there. Her husband is a mining engineer. I've seen them at a couple of mining conventions I've covered for The Chronicle. I'm told they like to gamble, I don't know where they get their money."

"Was that her husband we saw her with just now?"

"No."

Inspector Kerro spoke up. "I'm not so much interested in the man she was alone with in her hotel room in mid-afternoon as I am with the man who came to her door saying he had an appointment with her. Why did he come to that particular hotel room demanding money? And why did our young friend Petey suddenly change his mind about wanting to stay in jail about the time the man arrived here? Let's go see him. You both understand this is entirely off the record."

"There goes a terrific story for Hong Kong, up in smoke," muttered Matt.

"Maybe not, Matt," said Kerro. "Hang in there a few more days and you may have a bigger story."

Kerro gave instructions to the desk sergeant. "I want this to be the usual police line-up, but I don't really care how closely they resemble each other. I want them to enter the room one at a time. And I want Petey and a guard in the observation room. That's right, Petey's going to be our witness, but don't tell him anything in advance. I'll meet you there. "You two," he turned to Matt and Tom, "shouldn't really see this. It might involve you as witnesses in a later trial that could be dangerous."

"Witnessing is what we do in our job." said Tom; Matt nodded.

"I'll want total silence about it in the press or in any conversation, both within this country and outside it."

"Agreed," they both said.

"Come on, then. Put on these dark glasses, Tom. Petey's not likely to remember you from your gang beating, but I don't want anything to complicate this."

Petey and his guard were already in the observing room when Kerro entered. "Petey, this window is a one-way glass. You will be able to see them, but they can't see you or even know you are here. Do you understand?"

"I don't know anything," said Petey, "I just want to get out of here."

"Send in the first man," instructed Kerro to the attendant waiting in the hall. "Look at the man, Petey."

"I don't know him."

"Next man."

"Don't know him," Same with the third.

Then Shark was put in. Petey panicked. "I don't know him either! I want to go home, I tell you!" Sweat stood out on his face in the air-conditioned room. They had the fifth man enter the lineup, just to complete the process, but Petey only had eyes for Shark.

Kerro thanked the reporters and sent them on their way. He then went up to the senior inspector's office. Chief Inspector Jacobs was about to go home for the day, but changed his mind when Kerro told him, "I think we've just found another of the embezzlers' enforcement gang, and perhaps two of the big people themselves."

His superior heard some of the details and gave three instructions:

"Set a plain clothes watcher on each of those two, with back-up in unmarked cars. Follow them if either leaves the hotel, and see who they contact. We've already put a bug on the hotel room phone. Second, I'm ordering an immediate freeze on all their financial accounts. Notify the prosocutor: they may withdraw no more than five hundred Kina. Third, send out for some dinner, and call the embezzlement task force in here for a meeting this evening. This may be a long night."