Read THE KING OF MACAU (The Jack Shepherd International Crime Novels) for Free Online Page A

you want to go into Henri’s, grab a couple of beers, and talk?”
    “Yeah, I do, Jack, but there’s a problem with us going in there together.”
    “What’s that?”
    “I don’t want anyone to connect you to me.”
    And that was when I figured out who it was who had given my name to Pansy Ho.
    PETE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING else for a while. Then he glanced sideways at me and grinned. “I guess I really ought to tell you—”
    “That you were the one who set me up with Pansy Ho? Yeah, I got that, but why didn’t you want her to tell me it was you who had recommended me?”
    “I’m not involved in this. Can’t be. I’m not even here talking to you tonight.”
    “You look to me like you’re here.”
    “But I’m not. Nowhere near here. You must be mistaken.”
    “Huh,” I said, “imagine that.”
    “So…you going to thank me for fixing you up with Pansy or what?”
    “I’m supposed to be grateful to you for getting me into this?”
    “You don’t think she’s good looking?”
    “Yeah, I think she’s good looking.”
    “And she’s a billionaire.”
    “I know she’s a millionaire.”
    “No, man. I said billionaire. That’s with a B and nine zeros.”
    I realized Pansy had some serious coin, but it hadn’t occurred to me it might rise to quite that level of seriousness. Still, I didn’t want to admit to Pete that I was impressed so I didn’t say anything.
    “I introduce you to a beautiful woman who’s a billionairess and you sit here looking like you want to piss all over me, Jack. What’s up with that?”
    “I don’t think billionairess is an actual word.”
    “Who cares? Don’t be a pedant.”
    “Okay then, let’s get this over with. Thank you, Pete. You have my everlasting gratitude. Happy now?”
    “No, actually I’m not. Why didn’t you take the job?”
    “How do you know I didn’t take the job?”
    Pete just looked at me.
    I shrugged. “Pansy wants me to find out if the triads are laundering money through her casino.”
    “Yeah. So?”
    “Look, Pete, I was standing outside the Wynn last night minding my own business and some guys cruised by on a bike and plinked six or eight shots in my direction. I don’t think they were even shooting at me. I’m told they were just some wild and wacky triad guys having a little fun.”
    “And your point is…”
    “I’m a white boy in a Chinese city. I’m already too damned visible to those guys for my own good. I’m sure as hell not going to do anything to make myself even more visible.”
    “What makes you think the shooters were triad?”
    “You figure it might have been a couple of Swedish tourists out celebrating a birthday?”
    “I never thought of you as a pussy, Jack.”
    “Learn something new every single day, don’t you, Pete?”
    Pete Logan sighed heavily and pushed himself off the wall. He stood looking at me for a minute with a tired sort of expression on his face, and then he jerked his head in the direction of Government House.
    “Let’s take a walk,” he said.
    “I thought you were hungry.”
    Pete gave me a baleful stare, pointed into the fog, and said, “Walk, pussy.”
    AVENIDA DA REPUBLICA WAS deserted. By the time Pete and I had walked fifty feet away from Henri’s, we were completely enveloped in fog. I was almost inspired to trot out my best Humphrey Bogart imitation, but Pete didn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes so instead I fished around in my pockets until I came up with a Montecristo No. 3 and my cutter.
    “Do you have to smoke one of those things right now?” Pete asked. “You look like you’re sucking on a turd.”
    “This from a man who eats at Mexican restaurants.”
    I cut my Montecristo, found a box of wooden matches in another pocket, and lit it. Puffing the cigar into life, I rolled the first mouthful of sweet, pungent smoke around in my mouth for a moment before I let it go. It was always the first mouthful of a fine cigar that tasted the best, although the other mouthfuls