The officer nodded and looked sharply at Nash, his expression suddenly unfriendly. “So you work forVictoria Steers?”
“Yes. As part of her security detail.”
“And she is unable to speak to us presently?”
“She’s unconscious. Lost a lot of blood. She’s probably in surgery right now.”
The man looked at his assistant, who was taking notes, and shook his head. The assistant closed the computer.
“In Hong Kong the police well know of Ms. Steers,” said the officer.
“Okay,” said Nash dully.
“She has many enemies.”
Nash said nothing.
“And they could very well be the ones who tried to kill her tonight.”
“Looks to be the case,” replied Nash.
“And the fact is, Ms. Steers is a criminal, but we have yet to prove this. She . . .” He paused and looked around. “She has friends in high places.”
“I know nothing about that,” lied Nash.
“Your passport says you are an American?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then how did you come to work for her?” asked the officer.
“I was employed by someone else and she liked how I did my job,” replied Nash.
“But she only uses other Asians for protection. This is because she trusts them.”
“Well, that trust didn’t work out so well tonight, did it?”
The officer rose. “We will see what we can do. But we have much to work on right now. So results on her case may not be forthcoming quickly. If at all. But then again, she may die and no investigation will be necessary.”
The man smiled and suddenly Nash felt defensive of Steers.
“No one should get away with murder,” he said.
“I completely agree,” said the officer, his expression once more serious. “And that includes your boss.”
CHAPTER
41
STEERS SLOWLY OPENED HER EYES. However, the lights were intense and she closed them reflexively. She was tired, in pain, and desperately confused.
She opened her eyes once more, and then Steers turned her head from one side to the other. The hospital room was cluttered with machines buzzing and chirping. She tried to sit up but felt restrained. She tried again but her strength failed her. She could hear voices from somewhere but could not make out what was being said.
She lifted a hand and touched her neck, feeling the large bandage there and then the tape over it.
They tried to kill me. My own people tried to kill me.
She remembered the knife striking her, the gush of blood, and then Dillon Hope had killed her attacker, hurled her into the car, and then bullets started coming from everywhere. Then more shots were fired. And then they had driven off, rapidly. Her body had been flung around with the force of the car maneuvers Hope was employing. He had said something as things kept hitting the car and windows with incredible force, but she could not hear him clearly.