The Trafficked

53

‘You have a party of westerners here-with a little girl and a young woman? Must have been, what, four or five of them altogether. I met them by the pool earlier. I’d like to invite them for a drink, can you tell me what name they are booked under so that I can say hello?’

The girls exchanged glances. Mann was standing in reception. He picked out the one who hadn’t taken her eyes off him and flashed his most charming smile. ‘I know they are staying in the villa by the pool. We talked for ages but I forgot to ask for a name.’

‘Do you mean the three men; one man is with his daughter and another girl?’

‘Yes. That’s the one.’

The other two receptionists flashed her a look. A momentary look of concern crossed her face. It disappeared as Mann leaned across the desk. ‘I don’t want to appear rude, but I have never seen such pretty receptionists.’

She smiled and lowered her chin, batting her eyelashes at Mann.

‘It’s booked under the name of Mr Reese Pearce, from Angeles.’

Becky was waiting for him in their room. It was furnished with rustic touches. It had rattan cabinets either side of the French doors that led to a small balcony. Above the bed was a tapestry-a native scene with coconuts and volcanoes.

She watched Mann finish unpacking his bag and hang up his clothes in the white louver-doored wardrobe.

‘What do you think I should wear?’ she asked.

He answered without thinking about it. ‘Cut-offs. Flat shoes, nice top-chic casual-the purple silk top, that’s nice.’

‘How come when I ask you that, you have an exact image in mind? Most guys would just say “Put anything on”.’

‘Because it’s important, we want to look right. We don’t want to stand out too much, but we want to look moneyed. We want them to believe that we are a newly married couple used to exotic holidays.’

Becky was still sitting on the bed, surrounded by the spewed-out contents of her fake Louis Vuitton holdall that Ponytail had thrown in with the handbag deal.

‘Whatever you wear you’ll still look as sexy as hell. Someone with your looks can’t help it.’ Mann disappeared into the bathroom with his toiletries.

She looked at him curiously when he came back into the room. ‘You actually mean that, don’t you?’

‘Of course-bound to get told I’m a lucky man more than once tonight.’

She shook her head in disbelief. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.’

Mann turned around to see if she was joking and realised she wasn’t. He was about to add that it was a privilege to be seen out with her, but he could see that he had probably said enough-she was busy over enthusiastically tidying her things away.

‘What’s the plan this evening, Mann?’ she asked, not looking at him.

‘We will have to split up for the first part of it; strangely enough, you wouldn’t be that welcome in the girlie bars, I am going to look for Fat Harry. He owns a few of the most expensive bars here.’

‘Why do you think he’s involved in the new society?’

‘Because David White mentioned him and both Ng and Shrimp say his name has cropped up with any new ventures of the seedy kind with Stevie Ho. Besides being a bar owner he is also the appointed head of the local “Trade Organisation”, which exists solely to protect the other western perverts who set up businesses here. I remember years ago, he was in the news in Hong Kong, and David White pointed him out. He had some connection to a syndicate that owned taxi firms. He escaped charges then, when he paid off the parents of three juveniles he’d been overly friendly to. He’s a big enough fish to have been at least courted by the new gang.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Find an Internet café and get in touch with the team. See if they’re getting any further with finding Amy Tang; see if Micky has turned up. Ask around here-see if anyone knows anything or has seen anything that can help us. But be careful, journalists die at an alarming rate here. Questions will not be welcomed. However, as a woman, you can move around easily; the Filipino men are very respectful. It’s only the westerners that you have to watch out for, but then you know all about that…On that vein-first, let’s see if we can find your poolside friend-Mr Reese Pearce and co.