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Authors: Mark Arundel

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BOOK: Casanova
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31

 

TUESDAY, 03:30—04:20 (local time)

 

I followed Xing into the taxi and shut the door quietly. Penny was still asleep and I wanted her to stay that way. Jemima turned in his seat.

Xing spoke rapidly to him in Cantonese. He smiled and replied. Then he looked at me.

‘How did you find us?’ he asked again.

‘I reassembled your K106 and used it to track the taxi,’ I told him.

‘Then London could still track you and give Missouri your location,’ he said, with the realisation widening his eyes.

‘I’ve already had a run in with Missouri and some more of his friends. As well as the Mercedes, he’s also using an Audi.’

‘What happened?’

‘They tried to grab me.’

‘That must have been his last attempt. After that, he must have decided to return the money. He shot at us, you know, in the street. That’s why we had to drive off and leave you behind. I’m sorry about that, by the way.’

Xing was listening. ‘None of that matters now. Missouri has transferred the money. Meriwether has told me he has it.’

‘Oh, yes,’ I said, ‘about that.’ I felt Xing’s head turn rapidly. ‘I asked Meriwether to tell you that. Missouri hasn’t actually returned the money.’

‘Why did you do that?’ Xing asked.

‘Insurance,’ I said. ‘In case I didn’t reach you before the hour was up.’ I looked at Penny. ‘I couldn’t be sure about what you would do.’

Xing was silent and Jemima looked unhappy. He said something to Xing in Cantonese. Then the duckling spoke. His input was faster and more certain.

Xing replied to him and then she paused. ‘I will call Missouri one last time,’ she said, and then added, ‘we must get away from here. They will have tracked you to this location.’

It was at that moment we heard the approaching cars. We hadn’t seen them coming because they had switched off their headlights. They came at us fast and out of the darkness.

Luckily, the duckling’s reactions were as good as that of any getaway driver. It caused me to wonder whether he moonlighted for bank robbers during slow periods. He flattened the accelerator and his hands were a blur on the steering wheel. The Toyota kicked like a dodgem and spat out dirt from the front tyres. The tarmac gave us traction and just enough forward momentum to avoid the Audi’s attack. The big saloon passed within inches of our rear bumper and took out the scooter.

Xing had already turned to see. I looked back and saw the Mercedes lurch into the bend and straighten. It passed the Audi and came for us. Glaring headlights beamed from both German saloons like searchlights. The surprise was over. It was now a simple chase. The Audi tucked in at the back and together the three of us raced away in a line.

Our wheelman had turned south. We were speeding through Tamzai towards the Cotai strip. He knew the road and he knew the car. We began to pull away.

‘What does he think he can achieve?’ Jemima asked.

‘His hour is up, perhaps he doesn’t think he’s got anything to lose,’ I said.

‘He’s a fool,’ Xing said. Her gun was already in her hand.

‘He still hasn’t transferred the money,’ I reminded her.

I found the pieces of my K106 and quickly reassembled them.

‘What are you doing?’

‘...calling Missouri,’ I said.

He answered.

‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I’m going to speak English so you better concentrate. Penelope is alive. She’s asleep in the taxi. I want a deal: Your daughter for the money, plus the truce with Mosquito. Agreed?’

‘No, no truce,’ Xing said.

I ignored her.

In reply to my offer, Missouri made an ugly sound. It reminded me of a gearbox struggling to shift cogs. He was laughing.

The unpleasant noise ended and then he said, ‘No deal. Hour is gone, Penelope alive. I keep money. I kill you, I kill Mosquito.’

He wasn’t a great conversationalist, but quite adept at making his point, nevertheless.

‘The money isn’t worth your life,’ I said. ‘Give it up.’

‘Vá se foder,’ he said, which is Portuguese for
no thanks
or a slightly more robust version.

I ended the call and said to Xing, ‘We’re going to have to persuade him. He doesn’t want a deal.’

Xing nodded.

‘What does that mean?’ Jemima asked.

‘Remember,’ I said, ‘he can’t make the transfer if he’s dead.’

‘I know,’ Xing said.

We had reached Cotai strip. The wide, flat road allowed for greater acceleration. The gap between the Mercedes and us widened further.

‘What do you want to do?’

‘We need a plan,’ I said.

Xing checked the distance back to the Mercedes and then spoke to the duckling. From the tone in her voice, I knew she was giving him instructions. Jemima listened with an uncomfortable expression that lengthened his face. Xing turned to me.

‘It’s something I did in a street gang when I was sixteen. It’s dangerous but it works.’ She explained her plan. It wasn’t subtle. If it worked, though, it might give us what we wanted.

‘Jemima, are you okay with this?’ He nodded but his long face told a different story. ‘What about the duckling?’

‘I’ve agreed it with him,’ Xing said.

‘That just leaves Penny,’ I said.

‘...she’s asleep.’

‘Can she stay asleep?’

‘Yes, but it’s dangerous if they fire on the taxi.’

‘...they won’t.’

Xing shrugged.

‘All agreed?’

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose so—yes.’

We had a course of action. I checked my Glock. The duckling pulled a weapon from the glove box and Xing handed a gun to Jemima. We were ready.

The causeway was behind us and we were in the darkness of Coloane. The duckling had driven into the pine trees, along a narrow road that marked the foot of a dense hillside.

‘How far,’ I asked.

Xing spoke to the duckling. He asked questions which Xing answered. His eyes never left the road.

‘One minute,’ she said.

‘Are we all ready?’ I asked. ‘...any questions?’

...silence.

Then Xing said something that surprised me.

‘We don’t have to do this—take this risk. It’s only for the money. Are you sure?’

‘My mission is the money,’ I said.

‘Okay, then I will get you the money,’ she said.

Then the duckling spoke.

‘We’re here,’ said Jemima.

Our wheelman braked hard for a tight bend. We went out of sight of the horizon. He flicked the headlights to full beam, straightened with pace and left the road. A flat, runoff area took us onto a pathway that ran between a eucalyptus wood. It turned abruptly. Only a short distance beyond, at the end was a farm building and a wall of stone along one side. Pine trees lined the wood and made a natural barrier with the lane. The duckling had chosen well, it was the perfect blind alley.

He yanked the wheel and pulled on the handbrake. The Toyota slipped in the dirt and spun gracefully until we were pointing back the way we had come. The car stopped with its rear bumper tight against the farm building and its headlamps blazing full beam back along the lane.

The taxi doors flew open. I was the first out. The duckling, Jemima and Xing followed. We shut all three doors and ran. I was ahead. The end of the wall was the strategic point furthest away. I sprinted and confirmed my destination. Jemima headed for the nearest pine tree while Xing and the duckling ran further before vanishing inside the tree line.

I heard them immediately and then saw the lights. The Mercedes still led with the Audi close behind. Close together was how we wanted them. They straightened after the bend and then accelerated along the lane.

They passed me with tyres rippling the ground. Then their brake lights glowed red. The stationary taxi blocked their way and confused them too. Dazzled by the headlights and unsure the Mercedes and the Audi both stopped.

We attacked without pause. I stepped out from the cover of the wall with my arms in front. Both hands gripped the Glock. Xing and the duckling left the trees and appeared opposite. Xing led. We approached in silence. The Audi passenger door opened first. I recognised the QBZ-95 assault rifle and saw the balaclava. He began to turn. I targeted his chest and shot once. In the silence, the pistol boomed. The impact thud was like a mitt stopping a baseball. He dropped.

Xing had already advanced. She dipped beside the Audi and then turned with her gun aimed through the open door. She fired once. The driver slumped in his seat.

The Mercedes couldn’t escape. Xing had caught it in her trap. The driver’s door opened. A man appeared. He stepped out and began to turn. In his hand, he held a gun. He waved it in my direction. Xing shot him. He fell against the door and then dropped out of sight.

I rushed to the passenger door. ‘Check them. I’ve got Missouri,’ I shouted.

Xing shouted out in Cantonese and the duckling moved towards the Audi.

I reached the Mercedes. Inside, Missouri sat motionless with his hands held out. They were empty. He had surprised me. I was expecting a fight. I remained cautious while I found the door handle.

‘Get out,’ I told him.

He kept his hands open. Outside the car, I pushed his shoulder and then his back and he stepped away. A firm kick to the pit of his knee buckled his legs and brought him down. On his knees, he looked ready for prayer.

The barrel of my Glock forced his head lower while I checked his body for weapons. Then I heard a shot. I spun to see. It was just Xing finishing off one of the drivers. Then I saw Jemima. He had reappeared from the pine trees and was walking slowly towards me. The gun Xing had given him was in his hand and he was pointing at me. I had been right about Jemima, but then I realised he was pointing it at Missouri and not me. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or not.

‘For a moment there I thought you were going to shoot me,’ I said. He didn’t laugh. Xing appeared beside me.

‘I told you my plan would work,’ she said.

‘Yes, you did,’ I said.

It had worked too. There was, though, one important thing remaining—the money.

After the shooting, the eucalyptus wood was still as if it were asleep. It scented the cool night air with respectful silence. Only the pine tops were awake. They swayed gently and their needles played tag in the breeze.

Xing and Missouri stared at each other. We kept the triad on his knees. I stood behind with the duckling on one side and Jemima on the other. I could tell Xing wanted to do the talking so I remained silent.

‘Get out your K106,’ she said to me. I did as she instructed and then held it ready. She looked at the man on his knees. ‘Which bank has the money?’ she asked.

Missouri laughed. It was the same ugly noise as before. Xing obviously didn’t like it either, because she swung her leg and landed a scything kick across the triad’s face. The laugh stopped. I saw blood, wet on his lip.

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