Inside the doorway, he paused to glance at his wristwatch. He was a few minutes early and was about to look for a telephone to call Hannah at the beach when a porter in a mandarin-type jacket approached. “Please, you are Simon Drake?” Simon looked surprised and the porter’s face expanded in a wide smile. “I was told to watch for a man who walks as if he was still driving his XKE,” he explained. “If you are Simon Drake, Mr Keith has already gone down to the Hong Kong bar. He said he was thirsty.” “I’m Simon Drake and Mr Keith always is thirsty,” Simon said. He handed the porter a bill and took the escalator down to the lower level. Approaching the bar, he could hear the low, gut beat of an excellent jazz combo. Inside the bar, he paused long enough for his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness surrounding the stage at the far end of the room. While he waited, one tall shadow detached itself from the cluster of shadows at the bar and came to meet him glass in hand.
