The Crazy Rich Asians Trilogy
, guiding Charlie into a side reception room furnished with several lounge chairs and glass-cube coffee tables.
“What’s up? Are you still trying to recover from sitting at the same breakfast table with Pharrell?” Charlie teased.
Alice smiled tensely. “There’s been a developing situation all morning, and we didn’t want to disturb you until we knew more.”
“Well, spit it out.”
Alice took a deep breath before beginning. “I just got the latest update from our head of security in Hong Kong. I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but Chloe and Delphine are missing.”
“What do you mean missing?” Charlie was stunned—his daughters were under round-the-clock surveillance, and their pickups and drop-offs were handled with military precision by his SAS-trained security team. Missing was not a variable in their lives.
“Team Chungking was scheduled to pick them up outside Diocesan at 3:50 p.m., but the girls couldn’t be located at the school.”
“Couldn’t be located…” Charlie mumbled in shock.
Alice continued, “Chloe didn’t respond to any of her texts, and Delphine never showed up for choir at two. They thought maybe she sneaked off with her classmate Kathryn Chan to that frozen yogurt shop like she did last time, but then Kathryn turned up at choir practice and Delphine didn’t.”
“Did either of them activate their panic codes?” Charlie asked, trying to remain calm.
“No, they didn’t. Their phones both appear to have been deactivated, so we can’t trace them. Team 2046 has already spoken with Commander Kwok—the Hong Kong police have been placed on high alert. We also have four of our own teams searching everywhere for them, and the school is now reviewing all their security-camera footage with Mr. Tin.”
“I’m assuming someone’s talked to their mother?” Charlie’s wife—from whom he was estranged—lived in their house on The Peak, and the children spent every other week with her.
“Isabel can’t be reached. She told the housekeeper that she was meeting her mother for lunch at the Kowloon Cricket Club, but her mother reports that they haven’t spoken all week.”
Just then, the cell phone rang again and Alice quickly answered. She listened in silence, nodding her head every now and then. Charlie looked at her pensively. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. Ten years ago his brother Rob had been kidnapped by the Eleven Finger Triad. It was like déjà vu all over again.
“Okay. Tor jeh, tor jeh,”*4 Alice said, hanging up. Looking at Charlie, she reported, “That was the leader of Team Angels. They now think that Isabel might have left the country. They spoke to the upstairs maid, and Isabel’s passport is missing. But for some reason she didn’t take any suitcases.”
“Isn’t she in the middle of some new treatment?”
“Yes, but apparently she didn’t show up at her psychiatrist appointment this week.”
Charlie let out a deep sigh. This wasn’t a good sign.
* * *
*1 And if you happen to get invited, just know you’re still obliged to pay the $20,000 attendance fee unless you are one of the people listed in the next footnote. (Beautiful people never have to pay for anything.)
*2 Leo, Brad, Angelina, and Bono have all attended.
*3 The acronym for Informal Gathering of World Economic Leaders, the most exclusive inner sanctum of the conference, so secretive that their meetings take place at an undisclosed location deep within the Congress Centre.
*4 Cantonese for “Thank you, thank you.”
CHAPTER TWO
FULLERTON HOTEL, SINGAPORE
Every month, Rosalind Fung, the property heiress, hosted a Christian Fellowship Banquet for three hundred of her closest girlfriends in the opulent ballroom of the Fullerton Hotel. An invitation to this occasion was highly coveted by a certain segment of Singapore society regardless of their religious affiliation as it was a seal of approval from the old guard (there wasn’t a single Chindo or Mainlander in sight), and also because the food was heavenly—Rosalind brought in her personal chefs, who took over the hotel’s kitchens for one day and prepared an enormous buffet feast consisting of the most mouthwatering Singaporean dishes. Most important—this biblical bacchanal was completely free of charge thanks to Rosalind’s generosity, although guests were asked to contribute something to the offering basket immediately following the closing prayer.*1
Having strategically chosen a table closest to the buffet area, Daisy Foo sighed as she watched Araminta Lee standing in line at the noodle station dishing out some mee siam. “Aiyah—that Araminta! Bein kar ani laau!”*2
“She doesn’t look old. She just doesn’t have any makeup on, that’s all. Those supermodel types look like nothing on earth without makeup,” Nadine Shaw said as she tucked into her steaming bowl of mee rebus noodles.
Dousing her mee goreng with more chili oil, Eleanor Young commented, “It has nothing to do with that. I used to see her swim at the Churchill Club, and even when she was coming out of the pool dripping wet, she looked beautiful without a stitch of makeup on. Her face has just taken a turn, that’s all. She has one of those faces that I always knew would age badly. What is she…twenty-seven, twenty-eight now? It’s all over for her, lah.”
At that moment, Lorena Lim and Carol Tai arrived at the table with plates piled dangerously high with food. “Wait, wait…who’s aging badly?” Lorena inquired eagerly.