by Bryan Murphy
others to leave.
So he's the leader.
"This is your last chance, Daddy's boy." Linehan hears the sneer in the voice.
Comes from a broken home, I guess.
Parrot backs out of the room, shuts the door and locks it.
OK, it'll have to be when I'm in there. Next time we do a photo shoot: that's already a distraction in itself.
But now there are three of them. At least. And they've had a weapons upgrade.
Linehan knows that their patience and his time are depleted resources. He despairs of finding a workable plan. Only Norris can save him now.
Linehan thinks of his dealings with Robin Norris: all the slights, the insults, the jostling for promotion and power - Norris won those - but also the good times, fishing trips, nights on the town together, before Linehan started squandering his money on more mundane things than wine, women and antiques. Linehan's mind wanders from Norris to Hypatia, and does not return.
His thirst and hunger mount. No food or drink arrives, but Linehan thinks he hears more people come into the house. His mind swirls with escape plans that seem impossible. Whether or not the temperature in the room rises, sweat begins to pour off Linehan, and its stink fills his nostrils. Then it turns cold, and he shivers uncontrollably and hyperventilates. Linehan focuses on his breathing and gradually brings it under control. He finds he is at peace.
Linehan starts to review his life. The feeling of peace ebbs and flows, but he remains calm. At a certain point, he realizes he has been asleep and is now awake once more. He listens for external sounds. None reach him either from the outside or from the other room. He relaxes: everyone else must be asleep. If they are asleep, they cannot be keeping watch. He comes fully awake, his senses on edge. This is his chance, his only chance.
Linehan launches himself at the door. His shoulder slams into the wood. The pain is intense. The door rattles but does not fly open. Linehan positions himself beside the door and screams. The soreness of his dry throat makes the scream unworldly. He will jump on the first person to come through the doorway, snatch his weapon and use it on the others. Or die trying. His chest heaves, but nothing else stirs. Linehan raps on the door with his handcuffs, again and again. No-one responds. His wrists ache. There is blood around the cuffs. He rests his weight on the door handle. The door slides ajar. He opens it wider with his foot.
The light in the big room is off, but the ever-lit bulb in Linehan's cell illuminates its emptiness. Only a lingering odour of fried food suggests that it has recently been occupied. Linehan suspects a trap. He crosses the room and checks the toilet. That too has been cleared. He goes to the front door and tries it. It is open. The sunlight blinds him. The air outside is warm and damp, with a tang of the sea. He takes in deep lungfuls as his eyes adjust to the glare. He is in a garden that has not been tended in years. He struggles through undergrowth to a path, made of concrete slabs, that runs in front of the garden. Which way? He chooses the side that is going down, thinking it will lead him to the sea. A din of rotor blades assaults his eardrums. He swerves off the path into the into the overgrown bamboo bushes that line it, hoping that the noise will have sent any snakes slithering away in fear.
As the helicopter passes overhead, he realizes that he has little reason to fear it. They should be the good guys. He staggers back on to the path, but the chopper is out of sight. Linehan runs, glad of his exercise regime. No-one shoots at him. He starts to laugh. From a bend ahead of him a man appears, coming in his direction. The man catches sight of Linehan and scrambles out of the way of the laughing, dishevelled, handcuffed madman, who slows down as he rounds the bend and sees below him the blue-grey sea, a small port and a passenger ferry.
Linehan picks up speed, passing occasional houses until the path becomes a series of steps that lead him down into a village where people gape at him and make comments that he cannot hear because of the sound of helicopters and sirens. He runs on, towards where he thinks the jetty is. He finds it. The ferry he had spotted is still tied up beside it. Three police cars stand near the bottom of the gangway. A group of officers watch him approach. One, who has an air of being in charge, pulls something from his pocket. Linehan slows to a walk and approaches him. The officer holds up his universal key and smiles. Linehan holds out his hands and the officer unlocks and removes the cuffs.
"Mr. Linehan, I presume. Congratulations. Does it feel pleasant to be alive?"
Linehan is short of breath. He nods, screws up his eyes against the sparkling sea and guffaws for as long as his aching lungs allow.
"Now, just tell my colleagues where you were held, then we'll get you out of here. You have nothing more to fear."
On the police launch that takes them from Lamma Island to Hong Kong Island, a policeman cleans and bandages Linehan's wrists while he explains as much he can recall of the details of his captivity to Inspector Zhang, who phones the salient features over to the team searching for, and then inspecting, the house itself. Zhang also speaks to his office, in Mandarin. The first-aid man offers Linehan tea, which he declines, asking instead for water. The policeman pours some into the cup of a thermos for him. It is hot, but its taste of nothing is like nectar.
They dock next to Occupy Plaza, the island's trendiest shopping mall. Wayne is among the group of policemen waiting to meet them. It is the first time Linehan has seen him in uniform. Wayne grabs his friend in a bear hug, then pulls back in case he breaks any bones, releasing a string of obscenities at the same time.
"See where daydreaming gets you, eh, Sean!"
Linehan's thoughts immediately switch to Hypatia, but he brings them back to the present moment, thanks Zhang and his team, and declines the offer of treatment at Latter Day Saints Hospital. Wayne ushers him to an unmarked police car and speeds him home to Causeway Bay, sticking to the major roads.
Wayne orders in some food while Linehan takes a long shower and steps into clean clothes. When he emerges, the kitchen table is groaning under the weight of beer cans and pizzas.
"Anything what we don't finish will do for breakfast."
After they down a swift beer in celebration, Wayne switches to serious mode.
"Look, Sean, mate, I've got both good news and bad news for you."
Linehan's blood freezes at the mention of bad news.
"The good news is that we located the bastards that abducted you. Turns out they were part of a much wider network."
"Were?"
"Their boat was faster than ours, and they got out of Hong Kong waters. Luckily, our liaison with the People's Republic is excellent these days, so the Chinese Navy was waiting for them. We heard that your tormentors decided to open fire, and became martyrs to their cause. They happy, we happy."
Dead? All of them? Linehan feels a pang of remorse, as though he had led them to their miserable deaths.
"The bad news is that your WFA did actually shell out ransom money."
You call that bad?
"It might not be so terrible. We'll follow the money trail as far as we can, in the hope it leads us to the top dogs. But you might not get it all back."
"How much did they pay?"
"You'll have to ask your mate Norris that."
Find out how much I'm worth to them. "I hope it was a lot."
Wayne chuckles. Linehan brings his thoughts back to their primary focus.
"Hypatia?"
"We checked her out, of course. She's clean. She is what she says she is, a harmless gold-digger. If I was you, I'd use her and lose her. Girls like that are two a penny around here."
That is news to Linehan. Bad news.
"Look, Sean, I've got to get back to work. A policeman's lot, et cetera. Leave me a couple of beers. Oh, and we told Hypatia you were free. She'll phone you, if you don't phone her first."
On his way out, Wayne gives Linehan a colossal smirk. Linehan remembers something and calls him back.
"Wayne, where do Plymouth Argyle play these days?"
"Plymouth Argyle? Football Club? H
ome Park. It's been tarted up, but they've kept the name. Why?"
"I couldn't remember. It was the only one of the ninety-two I just couldn't remember. I kept wondering how much longer I was going to be alive."
"Oi! You're alive now. That's what matters, innit?"
"Wayne, before I leave Hong Kong, will you take me to the War Cemetery? I want to pay my respects to all those people who didn't make it out of captivity."
"Of course, mate. But now I've got to go. Ring Hypatia."
Linehan, however, pushes Hypatia to the back of his mind. His first call is to Lim, who recognizes his voice.
"Sean! So good to have you back! You OK?"
"Yeah, I'm OK. Mr. Lim, you're a bloody miracle man. You did the whole SplattaDome opening yourself!"
"Sean, you call me Ah-Lim, please. Nice diminutive for family calling. I just follow the system you set up."
"As soon as I get back to Geneva, I'm going to see that you get a rise. Ah-Lim."
His second call is to Geneva. Norris sounds relieved to hear his voice. He refuses to tell Linehan exactly how much ransom he paid.
"Not much, really. A couple of year's profits from the SplattaDome. And the Hong Kong police might get it back for us."
"Well, thanks, mate. I owe you one." Eight left!
His duty done, Linehan phones Hypatia. An hour later, she is lying next to him, her fingertips caressing his belly in post-coital languor.
"Sean Linehan, I missing you too much. First you gone, now you going. You take me with you to England?"
"I don't live in
