Wealth by Stealth

Notebook in one hand, coffee in the other, croissant between his teeth, Mike turned away from the refreshment table and bumped right into her. Coffee sloshed over the saucer and ran down his sleeve.

‘I’m so sorry,’ gasped the young woman, grabbing some paper napkins and thrusting them at him. She noticed he didn’t have a spare hand.

‘Let me take your things so you can clean up.’ She reached for his notebook, an expensive-looking black one. Shaking his head, he stuffed the notebook into his pocket, handed her the coffee, extracted the croissant and wiped himself down.

‘It’s my own fault,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ He glanced at her name badge, which said: Ms. K.E. Li, and under that, NEO, the name of her company.

‘Sorry, Ms. Li.’

‘Call me Lara,’ she beamed, revealing even white teeth.

Gorgeous, thought Mike as he tried to find a witty reply:

‘Lara? You’re the Chinese Tomb Raider?!’

‘Yes, you’d better watch out!’ she joked, ‘And you are…?’

‘Mike Olsen.’

‘Ah, the famous Mr. Olsen of Smokeline. The Englishman who single-handedly transformed seats in cars! I love the interior you designed for the VS200.’

‘Thanks. What do you do at NEO?’

‘I’m just PA to Director Gao, the CEO.’ She nodded towards a man in the corner with the nose of a boxer and the mouth of a jackal.

A woman dinged a spoon against a glass and announced that the plenary session was about to begin in meeting room A.

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Mike, ‘Hope to see you later.’

***

That was day one of the three-day conference ‘Designing the EV of the Future’ at the Shanghai Oriental Hotel. After that first encounter, Mike and Lara’s paths crossed frequently. They sat through the same seminars, they stood in the same elevators. As Mike listened to presentations on how virtual reality, graphene and 5G would shape cars in the twenty-first century, he jotted down ideas in his notebook. When the subjects became too arcane, he found himself sketching that smile, the light in her almond eyes, the way she tucked her black hair behind a delicate ear.

***

At dinner one evening, his colleague Dan took him aside.

‘I saw you talking to that girl earlier. Don’t get any ideas. She’s a honeypot for sure.’

Seeing Mike’s puzzled expression, he continued:

‘Honestly, Mike, you may be the best designer since Heatherwick, but you’re a bit dim sometimes. The Chinese use women like her to seduce competitors and then they blackmail them to obtain information. There are companies here that would kill to get their hands on your designs. You stay away from her.’

‘Whatever you say, Dan.’

***

A banquet was scheduled for the final night. Around one hundred conference attendees – all involved in the car industry – sat ten to a table, devouring steamed hairy crab, braised eggplant, spicy tofu, and other concoctions Mike didn’t recognize. His eyes sought out Lara across the room, and she winked at him. Toast after toast of rice wine proclaimed eternal friendship and cooperation. After the meal, the MC gave a closing speech and invited everyone to continue their conversations in the bar.

Mike and Dan trooped upstairs with the others and were soon mingling with reps from dozens of electric car firms. Beer in hand, Dan launched into an argument about battery composition with an engineer from a Guangzhou company. Mike drifted away, stepping out onto the balcony to survey the Shanghai skyline.

Lara appeared beside him, gesturing at the view with her champagne glass.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘Beautiful,’ he replied, gazing into her eyes.

She had changed into an ebony-colored cheongsam for the evening and had pinned up her hair. Mike thought her the loveliest sight he had ever seen.

A group of red-faced men lurched onto the balcony and continued their drinking game at high volume.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Mike.

The packed elevator squashed him up close against Lara. He glanced down at her, admiring a glimpse of cleavage.

‘I’m going to show you an even better view,’ she said with a smile.

Mike raised an eyebrow.

‘The Shanghai Tower. It’s the second tallest building in the world.’

After a short taxi ride, the express elevator rocketed them straight to the 118th floor in under a minute. From the observation deck they could see the whole city glittering beneath them.

‘It’s awesome to look down on the Pearl Tower,’ said Lara. ‘For years, it was the tallest building in China. And look at all those cars whizzing around down there. Keeping us in business.’

‘Like cockroaches,’ said Mike with a grimace. ‘I hate them.’

‘How odd. A car designer who hates cars.’

‘Cars feel so fleeting to me. Fashions come and go; people always want the latest model. The work I do – it’s gone in 60 seconds. That’s not really who I am.’

‘So why do you do it?’

‘I was designing sofas, when someone from Jaguar saw my work and hired me to design the bucket seats on their new sports car. One thing led to another. I needed the money.’

Lara looked at him.

‘My twin brother. Let’s just say he has special needs.’

‘So, in an ideal world, what would you be making?’

‘Furniture. Quality pieces that last forever.’

‘Furniture? Really? That’s incredible. Come over here, I want to show you something.’

She took his hand and led him towards the sky lobby of the observation floor. The seating area contained carved rosewood chairs in a classical style.

‘They’re exquisite,’ exclaimed Mike. He pulled out his notebook and a pencil and with a few rapid strokes captured the essence of the chair.

Lara peered over his shoulder.

‘Your sketching is superb.’

‘Thanks. The paper helps. Feel the quality.’

He watched her slender fingers caress the surface, imagining how they would feel against his skin.

‘Lovely,’ she purred, before flicking back a couple of pages.

Mike snatched the book away from her and shoved it into his pocket.

‘Sorry, I’m a little protective about my work. It’s got all my best ideas and inspirations in it.’

‘It’s all right. My father was the same way. He was a carpenter, and funnily enough, he also made chairs. My dream is like yours in fact: to start my own business, making modern furniture inspired by classic designs like this.’

‘That’s amazing. What’s stopping you?’

‘I want to do an MBA in the UK first. I have a place but I still need the fees to pay for it.’

‘Wow. Well done for getting in. And wow, those schools are exorbitant.’

‘I know. I’m nearly there. If I can find the rest of the money, I’ll be heading there this September.’

Lara’s phone rang. Mike listened as her mouth fired machine-gun Mandarin.

He raised an eyebrow.

‘That sounded tense.’

‘My boss hassling me about a project. He’s such a bully. I can’t stand him.’

‘Do you want to get another drink?’

Walking to the nearest subway station, preparing to cross the street, Lara stumbled in her heels. Mike reached out and grabbed her as she was about to fall. An SUV blared its horn at them as it roared past, mere inches away.

Mike could feel her trembling as he held her in his arms a moment longer than necessary.

‘Thanks,’ she said, stepping back.

He was sweating.

‘One of those is the reason my brother can’t walk.’

He gazed up at the night sky.

‘I’ve designed him a wheelchair, but I still need the money for the customized build.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said and hugged him close, stroking his hair.

‘I’m almost there. Then perhaps I can return to designing tables and chairs.’

They spent the rest of the evening sauntering along Nanjing Road, window shopping, and sampling xiaolongbao dumplings. They found a cosy bar on the Bund and shared a bottle of wine as jazz music wrapped them in its warm embrace.

***

Strewn across the floor lay a crumpled cheongsam, a bra and a pair of Union Jack boxers. A chair held khaki trousers with a black notebook in one of its pockets. In the bed, two naked bodies slept entwined.

***

Sunlight cast a beam across Mike’s face. Lara had been everything he had imagined. He yawned and stretched his hand across the bed. Empty. He blinked open his eyes. Lara was gone. No sound from the bathroom. He leapt up and checked the balcony. A ghastly thought occurred to him, and he searched the pockets of the clothes he’d been wearing last night. His notebook was missing. He scoured the room. Definitively gone. You fool. Girls like that don’t fall for guys like you.

***

In her room down the corridor, Lara was speaking on her mobile, clasping the notebook against her chest.

‘I got it. I can deliver it now. Are you in the office?’

‘No. Change of plan. I had to fly to Hong Kong first thing this morning. Bring it to me here.’

‘To Hong Kong? But that wasn’t our agreement.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll make it a round $20,000 if you can get it to me today.’

And the line went dead.

She tossed the notebook onto the bed along with her clothes. She needed a shower.

***

Mike turned on his laptop and opened a browser window. He entered a username and password, and a fuzzy image appeared. A pillow, neatly made bed, a black dress. Through the speakers he could hear water running.

He picked up his phone and placed a call on Signal.

‘It worked. The device is functioning perfectly. I have audio and video.’

‘Good work, Mike. I’ll transfer the $20,000 to your account.’

‘It is still with the girl, but I imagine Mr. Gao will have it soon.’

‘No worries, I trust you. You’ve earned a couple of days off. See you back in the office next week sometime.’

‘Yes, sir.’

***

Mike took the elevator up to the hotel bar, ordered a coffee and carried it out onto the balcony. Gazing over the city as an ache swelled in his heart, he struggled with a tough decision. He stooped to place his empty cup on the ground, and a shadow fell over him. He turned and there was Lara, pale in a long cream dress.

‘I thought I might find you here,’ she said.

He made up his mind.

‘I need to tell you something, Lara; I haven’t been honest with you.’

‘Stop,’ she said. She handed him his notebook.

‘I’m so sorry. I hate myself. Mr. Gao insisted. I needed the money. But I can’t do this to you, Mike. I saw your drawings of me,’ she added, and tears came to her eyes. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’

Mike took her in his arms.

‘I’m sorry too. I thought you were just playing me. Last night was heaven. I wish I wasn’t leaving so soon.’

He explained how his boss had pressured him to take the modified notebook containing a tiny camera and microphone; how he’d asked him to do whatever it took to get it into Mr. Gao’s hands so they could eavesdrop on their rivals.

She looked pensive.

‘So you’d still like me to sneak off with your notebook?’

‘If you do, then I can buy my brother his wheelchair.’

She smiled conspiratorially.

‘And I would get the money to do my MBA.’

‘Then we can meet again soon in England.’

Mike put his hand out to her, and she shook it.

‘Please steal my notebook.’