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Authors: Mark Arundel

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BOOK: Casanova
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12

 

WEDNESDAY, 04:20—15:00 (local time)

 

We landed in Hong Kong in the darkness. I only saw the lights on the ground when we were nearly down. The plane dropped through the low cloud like an egg from a chicken. I saw water for a second and then the wheels hit the runway. The big jet braked from its landing speed with the subtlety of a hog at the trough.

It was still sometime before first light. The terminal building simmered. Reflective brightness gave reality an unnatural colour. It seemed everybody was in a hurry. I wasn’t.

‘We’re on the northern peninsular of Lantau Island,’ Xing said. ‘The quickest way is by taxi.’

‘I want to get some money first,’ I said. At the Bureau de change, I used my company credit card. The woman passed me the cash with a smile. I pocketed the HK dollars and rejoined Xing. She was standing by the newsagents, leafing through a magazine. She immediately appeared very much at home.

‘Ready?’ she said.

I nodded. She put the magazine back. I followed her to the exit. This was her turf. Outside, the taxi rank was empty.

‘Did they know you were flying back today?’ I said.

‘We’ll take the Express,’ she said. ‘Anyway, it’s a better way to start acclimatising you.’

I looked at my new watch. It was wrong. I changed it to HK time. ‘I’m acclimatised already,’ I said.

At the terminal, Xing bought me a card. ‘It’s a smart card,’ she said. ‘You can use it on all transport and in most supermarkets, vending machines and payphones and fast-food places. You add money to it using these.’ Xing pointed to a silver, floor-standing box with a digital display. She passed me the card. It was brightly coloured with the word Octopus written on it. She already had one. We used them to pay.

Onboard the train, we stored our bags and sat facing forward. The carriage was mostly empty.

‘It’ll take us all the way to the top of Hong Kong Island,’ she said. I tried to picture the map in my head. ‘From there we can take a bus.’

‘Where do you live again?’

‘Deep Water Bay,’ she said, ‘south of the island.’

We rode the train. It was along the Coast of Lantau Island but the blackness hid the ocean.

A teenager stood in the gangway. His black hair had streaks of bleach, which looked orange in the light. He wore a baggy leather jacket and pointed boots. A constant sneer creased his face. He glanced at us several times. He came closer. He was overconfident. He spoke quietly.

‘Give me your money,’ he said. His accent was terrible. He opened his jacket to show us the pistol he kept there. Xing looked at him with distaste. She spoke to him in Cantonese. Her words were rapid and disrespectful. His face changed from aggressor to shock and then to coward. He closed his jacket and left quickly. I watched him go.

‘What did you say to him?’ I asked.

‘He’s a punk,’ she said, ‘an uninitiated member of a HK triad gang. Did you notice the tattoo on his hand? He’s probably a drug courier, or just a messenger boy. He rides the Express at this time hoping to find easy targets from the airport.’

‘We’re easy targets?’

‘He’s stupid; he probably thought we were a tourist couple from Europe. The husband had brought his Asian wife to see Hong Kong. We look like we might have a pocket full of holiday HK dollars.’ She looked at me. ‘He was right about that.’

‘But what did you say to him? He was scared.’

‘I told him my name.’

‘...your name?’

‘Yes, the name I’m known by in the triad world.’

‘But why would that scare him?’

‘He would know the name, and the reputation it has. Even though he couldn’t be certain, couldn’t know for sure that I was really that person, he knew that if I knew the name it was possible, and that I must have triad connections. I presented with a greater strength. He backed down.’

‘What is your triad name?’ I asked.

‘Mosquito,’ she said.

The train was fast and comfortable, except for the mugger. There’d been no mention of him when I paid for the fare. I pointed this out to Xing but she didn’t laugh.

‘Mosquito,’ I said, repeating the name. ‘Why?’

‘It was the name my Dragon Master gave me.’

‘Why?’

‘He said that like the mosquito I was a gifted and inconspicuous killer.’

‘What shall I call you?’

‘Call me Xing’ she said. ‘I prefer it to Mosquito.’

 

The Express stopped at the end of the line. We were in the hub of the city. The high buildings framed the eastern horizon. First light showed diffused through a low fog like candlelight behind a white cotton sheet. Hong Kong city was waking up. It stretched and scratched its balls. Xing breathed in the polluted air. We walked quickly. She was confident and she seemed at ease.

‘This area is Central,’ she said, ‘and this is Exchange Square.’

It wasn’t light enough for me to see much. There were dark shapes and black corners thrown by high neon lights.

‘We catch our bus from here,’ she said. ‘We want the number six.’

We found a bench and sat down to wait. Xing pulled out her K106. She was immediately lost in the device. I looked and saw she was testing its satellite positioning capabilities.

I watched the shaded light creep higher in the east. The buildings began to show like giant rectangular heads from Easter Island. A bus stopped. Xing glanced up. It wasn’t the number six. Her head dropped back down.

I watched the people. All of them seemed to move as if they had somewhere they had to be. Purpose and time seemed to be in charge. Faces appeared like monochrome masks of task and function. Another bus stopped. I began to wonder whether the number six was running today.

My K106 rang. It made Xing look up. I answered the call. It was Meriwether.

‘Have you arrived safely?’ he asked. ‘Not too tired I hope, good man.’ I didn’t attempt to answer. ‘We’ve checked the bank account,’ he said. ‘The money was transferred from Zurich into an account held in Macau. The registered user of that account is a single personal name. We do not know the name. We believe it may be the deposed triad leader. It only has a few monthly transactions and the balance is only a few thousand dollars.’

‘So, where’s the money now?’

‘It’s been moved. We’re attempting to discover where. It’s very likely Missouri has control of it. We’ll progress on that basis. How’s Jackie?’

I realised Meriwether had given Xing the nickname Jackie.

‘Very much at home,’ I said.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I’ve briefed our HK office. They are investigating Missouri and his organisation. Once they report I’ll call you again. By the way, you can now call Little Miss Marple and close that off. It’s best to keep that new relationship harmonious; we may need her again someday. Settle in while we wait. I can recommend the Coco Thai restaurant. Jackie will know where it is.’

I wasn’t surprised Meriwether knew where to eat in Hong Kong. I pocketed my K106 and said to Xing, ‘do you know a restaurant called Coco Thai?’

‘Was that Meriwether?’ she asked. I nodded.

‘Coco Thai is in Deep Water Bay,’ she said. ‘We can walk there from my apartment.’

Meriwether had been working hard.

I began to tell Xing what Meriwether had told me. She interrupted. ‘That’s our bus,’ she said. The number six had arrived. We paid with our Octopus cards.

The bus chugged and we started to move. ‘The Macau account will be held in a false name,’ she said, picking up the conversation. ‘I’m not surprised the money’s been moved. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is we now know Missouri has control over it. If he’s moved it once then he can move it again—back to London.’

The bus took us south. We left the city and the capitalist Easter Island heads behind. The sky lightened. We went beyond the limit of the smog. Hong Kong Island was green. We skirted the Peak and I saw Victoria Mountain through the dirty window. The terrain was hilly and the snakes of tarmac hidden like pathways through a secret garden.

We crested a rise and the view opened. I saw the bay for the first time. It was wider and deeper than I had expected. Three peaks protected it. They stood like sentry guards.

‘This is called Violet Hill,’ Xing said. She saw me staring across the bay. ‘It’s pretty, isn’t it?’ She was right it was pretty.

The bus dropped us off and drove away. ‘I live down there,’ Xing said. ‘It’s close.’

Apparently, we were on Island Road. I couldn’t see an apartment building that was close. ‘It’s just a short downhill walk,’ she said. I hauled the four bags and followed her. The sun was up now. It felt like a three bar electric fire in an icy room. She wasn’t waiting for me.

‘Hold on, I don’t know the way.’

‘It’s just round the corner at the bottom. Come on.’

I trudged after her. She disappeared around the bend. I quickened my pace. Her apartment building was white. The mostly glass construction reflected the trees and the sky. There was a large entrance with an awning. I saw Xing go in. I’d almost caught her up. I followed straight in behind.

The lobby had marble flooring that shone like waxed hair. Xing crossed to the mail boxes against the sidewall. The man appeared as though teleported from another place. Later, I realised he must have been concealed behind the plants. Xing had reached her mailbox and was keying in her code. The man moved rapidly on silent feet. He carried a knife. He reached her before I had time to utter a warning. I then saw something I still have difficulty explaining. How could Xing have been aware of the danger? Nothing I saw could have given her a warning and yet, in the half second before the man struck she spun with intense speed, defended the knife strike with a dipping double arm block and then attacked with a venomous full leg kick to the assailant’s abdomen. The man buckled but remained on his feet. He did his best to defend the onslaught but Xing attacked without mercy. She danced towards him with her feet and fists flying, spinning and stepping, jumping and punching. Xing’s hair flew out behind her. It moved in rhythm to her kung-fu ballet. The man was suffering. He was close to dropping. It was then that the second man appeared. He had come in behind us. He headed directly for Xing. He must have been hiding outside, while he watched and waited. He too carried a knife. His intention was obvious. I moved fast and intercepted him. He lunged at me. I spun and stepped in. I gripped his forearm with both hands and thumped him with my shoulder. He struggled but I held him. He punched my back. I twisted his forearm and he dropped the knife. I thumped him again. The first man ran by us. He was running for the exit. I saw fear in his eyes and wet blood on his face. I released my grip and the second man darted away after his friend.

Xing was breathing deeply. Her forehead shone like the marble flooring. I picked up the knife.

‘Did you forget to pay the rent?’ I asked.

‘They were sent to kill me...,’ she said. She was surprised. ‘...to silence me.’ Her eyes were black and cold; and then they focused. She looked at me. ‘They will report back,’ she said. ‘We cannot stay here now, not again until this is over.’

 

I checked outside. The two men had gone. I returned inside to Xing. We took the stairs. We didn’t want any surprises when the lift doors opened. The stairwell was empty. Xing went into the corridor on her floor and I followed. It was silent. Nobody jumped out.

BOOK: Casanova
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