Gone in Hong Kong (A Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order)

Some were single.
  Some were married.
  He didn’t discriminate.
  He was born and raised in Shanghai, but stayed on the island after getting a graduate degree at the University of Hong Kong in economics—a degree that he had never used and never would, but was still glad he had. He fluently spoke both of Hong Kong’s official languages—Cantonese and English—but also got by in Spanish and Japanese.
  HE WOKE UP shortly before noon on Tuesday, stretched, slipped into trunks, headed topside and dove into the water. Then he swam out of the marina and straight out into Victoria Harbour for half an hour before turning around and heading back. Mid-afternoon, his phone rang and a surprise voice came through.
  “It’s me,” the woman said.
  The voice belonged to his blackmailer.
  Kong’s chest tightened.
  “We’re done,” he said. “No more.”
  “I wish we were,” she said. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”
  Kong rang his fingers through his hair.
  “Here are your choices,” he said. “Hang up the phone, right now, and live; or wish you had, later, when I find out who you are—which I will.”