Five-Ring Circus Read Free Page B

corporations.” Chung was taking his time squeezing out the answers.
    â€œMr. Feng and Mr. Sun—” Malone had looked at his notes. “They were in it with you?”
    â€œIn my partnership, yes.”
    â€œ Which is?”
    â€œLotus Development.”
    â€œWho else? You said three.”
    â€œThe Bund Corporation.”
    â€œThe Bond Corporation? You’re kidding.” The Bond Corporation had been the Titanic of the eighties. Its captain had spent several years trying to dodge the iceberg, but was now doing time.
    Chung smiled. He now appeared completely unperturbed by what had happened in his restaurant. Yet Malone had a sudden flash of memory, saw the look of fear that had stricken Chung as he had pushed into the banquette against Tom. If he was still afraid, it was now well hidden. “No, no. The Bund Corporation. Named after the famous Bund on Shanghai’s waterfront.”
    The Bund’s fame hadn’t spread as far as Homicide; but the two detectives nodded. “Who’s the third partner?” said Malone. “Someone else from China?”
    Chung looked around the restaurant again. The Crime Scene team had come through from the kitchen and the back alley; the sergeant in charge glanced across at Malone and shook his head: nothing.
    The big room was still brightly lit, the huge chandelier hung like a frozen explosion, a glare that was obtrusive. Chung abruptly stood up, crossed the room and flicked a switch. Everyone looked up as the glare disappeared; it was a moment before the yellow lamps on the walls asserted themselves. Chung came back, sat down, said nothing.
    â€œLes,” said Malone patiently, “who’s the third partner?”
    â€œIt’s in the application at the Town Hall,” Chung said at last. “Kelly Investments.”
    â€œAnd who,” said Malone, patience threadbare now, “are Kelly Investments?”
    â€œOne of Jack Aldwych’s companies.”
    â€œOne of Jack’s? Named after Ned Kelly?” A national hero, a bushranger. Perhaps it was the convict beginnings of the nation, but part of the heritage seemed to be a reverence for crims. Jack Aldwych had been a leading crim for years; but, so he claimed, was now retired. He also claimed he was trying to slide into respectability, but even he found the idea risible. Respectability was not a difficult achievement, not in Sydney; but it must not be treated as a joke, which was what Aldwych was doing. He was also co-owner with Les Chung of the Golden Gate and he was one of Malone’s best acquaintances, if not best friends. “Les, if you and Jack are partners in Olympic Tower, would you blame me if I thought some of your old mates were trying to muscle in?”
    â€œI have no old mates who do that sort of thing.”
    Malone refrained from naming some of them; Les Chung, too, was now into respectability. “Well, with your Shanghai friends involved, do you think the Triads might have arranged these killings?”
    â€œThe Triads?” Chung’s expression suggested that Malone might have named the Jesuits or the Masons.
    Exasperation was seeping out of Malone like perspiration. “Les, Russ and I are trying to get to the bottom of this. That feller would’ve done you if you’d been in that booth—he didn’t look as if he were being selective. You were on his list—”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œWell, I think so. And so does Russ, right?” Clements nodded. “Now we can take you back to Homicide and talk to you till you come to your senses. Or you can go home, talk to your wife and kids and your lawyer and your mother, if need be—”
    â€œI’m not Jewish.”
    Malone had to smile. “Righto, Les, you’ve still got your sense of humour. Now use it, see the sense in what I’m saying and come and see me and Russ in the morning and give us the full picture. But we’re