The Water Rat of Wanchai by Ian Hamilton Read Free Book Online

financial institution headquartered in Seattle. Seafood Partners had an account at a branch near Sea-Tac Airport. Ho provided the address, phone number, and account number.
    “Who did you deal with at Seafood Partners?”
    “Jackson Seto.”
    “Just him?”
    “No one else.”
    “Did you ever meet his partner, George Antonelli?”
    “No, and I never really met Seto. We did business over the phone.”
    “When was the last time you heard from him?”
    “I called him about four or five weeks ago, when the last of the product was repacked.”
    “What phone number did you call?”
    He gave her the same cellphone number that Andrew Tam had provided.
    “Tell me, Mr. Ho, how did Jackson Seto find you?”
    He laughed. “In this business, sooner or later everyone in the U.S. needs to find me. That’s all I do — fix other people’s problems.”
    “Well, this is one problem I would appreciate your not discussing any further with Seto. There is no reason for you to call him, and if by chance he calls you, I would not mention this conversation.”
    “He’s all yours.”
    “Thanks.”
    “But I’d be happy if you could make a note in the report you’re going to write that I was cooperative.”
    “Consider it done, Mr. Ho,” she said.
    Ava did a search on the Internet to find G. B. Flatt. It was the largest retail food chain in Texas, with more than three hundred stores. She trolled through the various departments until she found the seafood director in a sub-listing in the perishables department. The name was J. K. Tran — Vietnamese for sure. Man or woman? Not so certain.
    She debated whether or not to maintain the FDA persona. It’s working well enough , she thought. Carla was on a roll.
    J. K. Tran wasn’t happy to hear from her. “We’ve done nothing wrong,” he said the instant she mentioned the FDA and Seafood Partners.
    Why is he so defensive? she wondered. Is he on the take? Did Seto pay him off to take in the product?
    “Mr. Tran,” she said slowly, “our interest is solely in Seafood Partners. We have already talked to Barry Ho at Garcia Shrimp, and he swears that the product is now entirely within regulations. My problem is that we told Mr. Seto the product was not to be moved. I just need to confirm that you have that product. We have no, I repeat, no axe to grind with G. B. Flatt. You can keep the product. I just need you to confirm who you bought it from.”
    “Seafood Partners.”
    “Jackson Seto?”
    “Yes.”
    “How much did you pay?”
    “Why do you need to know that?”
    Tran’s not slow , she thought. “There’s going to be a fine. It will be based on the value of the goods sold.”
    That must have sounded plausible, because Tran said, “I paid four dollars a pound.”
    “For how many pounds?”
    “Just over 900,000.”
    “And how were they paid?”
    “We sent them a wire.”
    “Is that usual?”
    “It was a one-of-a-kind deal. The price was exceptional, so we didn’t mind the terms.”
    “Where was the wire sent?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Who does know?”
    “Accounts payable.”
    “Who should I speak to there?”
    “Rosemary Shields.”
    “Mr. Tran, could you do me a favour? Put me on hold, call Rosemary, and tell her to give me the wire information. I will make sure that you, she, and G. B. Flatt are kept out of this mess as we go forward.”
    “Wait,” he said.
    The line went dead for close to five minutes, and Ava began to think she had been cut off. She was just about to hang up and redial when Tran came back to the phone. “The wire was sent two weeks ago. It went to Dallas First National Bank, 486 Sam Rayburn Drive, Dallas, Texas.”
    “Whose bank account?”
    “Seafood Partners, who else?”
    “Do you have a contact at the bank?”
    “No.”
    “Phone number?”
    “None.”
    “Well, thanks for this. I’ll follow up with the bank.”
    Ava hung up and went back to her computer. Dallas First National was a two-branch bank, and the main branch, on Sam