White Tiger

form, his long hair spread around his head. Leo was bent over him, his face a mask of misery. When Leo saw us he nodded. I gently lowered Simone and led her to her father.
    Mr Chen was unconscious. Leo picked him up like a child and gently placed him into a chair.
    Simone took her father’s hand and ran her other hand over his face. ‘Daddy. Daddy!’
    ‘Will he be all right?’ I said.
    ‘Yes,’ Simone said, with an expression that belonged on a much older face. ‘He’ll wake up soon.’
    Leo rubbed his hands over his face and went into the bathroom.
    Mr Chen’s eyes flickered open and he looked around. He saw Simone and pulled himself to sit more upright. ‘Where’s Leo?’
    ‘In the bathroom,’ I said.
    He nodded and relaxed. Simone crawled into his lap and put her head on his chest.
    The intercom clicked on. ‘The typhoon made landfall about two hundred kilometres south of Macau, Mr Chen,’ the pilot said. ‘It will be choppy, but we’ll land in Macau on time. I’ll tell you when it’s time to put on your seatbelts.’ The intercom clicked off with an audible pop.
    ‘You’re a very silly daddy.’
    He kissed the top of her head. ‘I know.’

CHAPTER TWELVE
    T he wind was still blowing fiercely when we landed in Macau, but the pilot handled it easily. We piled out of the plane and took our bags through the nearly deserted airport; every other plane scheduled to land had been diverted.
    We raced through customs and immigration. Mr Chen didn’t even bother putting our bags on the X-ray machines; he just hypnotised the staff and they waved us through. Leo glowered.
    We hustled onto the boat and took off through Macau’s muddy water, under the enormous spanning bridge that joined the three islands. The water was completely flat.
    When we hit the open sea the water still didn’t have any waves at all, and Leo’s expression went even darker.
    ‘Not my doing, Leo,’ Mr Chen said. ‘The water is always like this after a typhoon, you know that.’
    Leo didn’t say anything; he just stomped into the cabin at the front of the boat and sulked.
    The boat ride back to Hong Kong only took an hour; as fast as one of the Macau Ferry’s jetfoils—the jet-propelledhydrofoils that carried the gamblers between Macau and Hong Kong. I glared at Mr Chen when we reached the pier, but he ignored me. It shouldn’t have been such a quick trip. The jetfoils travelled much faster than ordinary boats.
    Leo jumped off the boat and charged through the afternoon Central crowd into a nearby office building to collect the car from its parking space underneath.
    When he pulled the car into the lay-by under City Hall, we threw the bags into the boot. I put Simone in the back with me, Mr Chen sat in the front with Leo, and we raced up the overpass to take us to the Peak.
    Mr Chen kept glancing at his watch.
    ‘Will you make it?’ I said.
    He checked his watch again. ‘If I’m quick. I’ll need to shower and change first—I can’t go like this.’ ‘Where’s the meeting?’ Leo hissed under his breath.
    ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’
    ‘Grand Hyatt,’ Mr Chen said. ‘Next to the Convention Centre.’ The Convention Centre was shaped like a flowing sea creature, jutted into the Harbour and was clearly visible from all over Hong Kong. ‘He’s taken a suite there for this meeting.’
    ‘What’s the meeting about? It must be important.’
    ‘Emma!’ Leo snapped.
    Mr Chen sat silently, his face grim. Then he shook his head. ‘No.’ ‘Okay,’ I said. Leo visibly relaxed.
    When we reached the Peak apartment building, Leo left the car running in the ground-floor car park. We went into the lift lobby, and Leo brought the bags. Mr Chen lowered his head and disappeared.
    ‘He’s not supposed to do that,’ Simone said.
    ‘He’s in a big hurry,’ I said.
    ‘No excuse,’ Leo said, glowering.
    ‘At least he waited until we were in here,’ I said.
    When we reached the apartment, the door was already hanging open. Monica came out of the kitchen to help Leo with the bags, and I took Simone into the living room out of the way.
    Mr Chen came charging down the hallway in a pair of black silk pants and a black T-shirt, pulling on a stunningly embossed black silk robe. He stopped at the front door and fiddled with the silk toggles and loops on the robe. The toggles fastened across the front of his chest and then down the side. The robe had a stiff mandarin collar,