Chapter 41

THIS TIME, SHE’Dchosen the branch at Martin Place. The streets were flush with lawyers on their lunch hour gliding around in their slick suits. As their cab drove through the traffic toward their stop, Hope kept the gun pressed against the inside of the handbag in her lap, the barrel pointed right at Ken. She had to keep the fury in her heart contained now. This was the most important part of her plan.

The man beside her sat crumpled against the side of the cab. She might have broken a couple of ribs when she came at him with the hammer after his stunt with the toiletries. She didn’t care. He deserved it. He looked pathetic sitting there, his eyes wandering over the people in the street. She could see on his face the desire to open the door and grab one of them, inform them that he was a hostage. His mouth fell open as the cab came to a stop at a set of traffic lights, right beside a police cruiser. Hope jiggled the handbag, reminding him of his situation.

“Try anything, anything at all, and I’ll be right back on that boat with your wife before you can utter a sound,” Hope murmured, glancing at the cabbie’s face in the rearview mirror. “I’ll shoot you, and before the police can work out where you’ve been, Jenny will be dead.”

“I’m not going to try anything,” Ken whispered. “You can take the money. Take everything. Just hold up your end of the deal and leave Jenny on the pier unharmed.”

“We’ll see if your performance is convincing enough,” Hope said. “I’m not making any promises.”

They walked to the manager’s counter, arm in arm. She shot him the loving look of a happy wife, slid her hand down and gripped his rough, warm hand.

What a lovely creature he was. She almost didn’t want him to die.

The manager this time was an older, portly Asian man in a nicely tailored gray suit. He wore a small pink flower in his lapel and stuck his hand out for a shake a good ten feet away from Ken.

“Sir, madam. How can I help you today?”

They explained their business. The manager wore genuine regret on his face that they would no longer be customers, but brightened again when they spoke of their plans to travel the Greek Islands. He waved them into his small private office as though he were welcoming them inside his own home.

“So.” He eased into his chair and turned the computer monitor toward himself. The nameplate on his desk read “Bai Yim.” “What’s the approximate amount of your holdings here, Mr. Spelling?”

“Eight hundred thousand,” Hope answered for him. She felt a pulse of electricity run through her phony husband’s body. Yes, Hope had seen their accounts, she just hadn’t been able to access them. He must have been surprised at how far her planning went. He had no idea.

“So I imagine you’d like the amount in a direct transfer check?”

“No, we’d like cash.”

“You’re not concerned about carrying that amount of money overseas? International piracy is a real threat, you know.”

“Oh, no, we’ve taken provisions.” Hope smiled. “And we’ve got customs approval to take the amount out of Australia in cash, forgoing the ten-thousand-dollar limit.”

Ken glanced at her. She was prepared. Of course I’m fucking prepared, Hope thought. This is my one shot. I’m not going back to that life. I’m never, never going back.

She pushed aside the flurry of images that swirled through her at the thought. Sweat-stained beds and needles. The crush and roar of the crowd on the strip. The hollering and laughing of men in the hallways. Money in, money out, money in, money out.

“I’ll get our guard to escort you to your car, then,” Yim said. “You can never be too careful!”

They all laughed. Hope put Jenny and Ken Spelling’s IDs on the table. Mr. Yim hardly glanced at the cards. His eyes were on the computer screen as he tapped their names and numbers into the keyboard.

His expression changed in an instant.