Please God Nick won’t want to come up to Jason’s apartment to discuss Plan C.
Because I have a Plan A of my own, which I really want to put into action.
21
Cal
Sunday
I stand on the sidewalk in front of the Kwong Wah Hospital and watch the morning rain. It’s the first time I’ve stepped outside. Inspector Ho came to interview me. He dismissed the idea that the assault on Tina is connected with my case. He blames the protestors she has been dealing with. “They are very bad people, Mr. Rogan. In the west, you think they are some kind of freedom fighters but they’re not. They’re criminals.”
I’d like to believe him but I’m sure he’s just toeing the Beijing party line.
Tina’s life is hanging by a thread because of me. I think of all the people who have been put in danger because of me. It reminds me of Ellie. I haven’t called her in a few days. Toronto is twelve hours time difference. She’ll probably be getting ready for bed and I don’t want to speak to Sam right now. I must remember to call Ellie tonight.
I should— My phone rings. “Hey Nick, I was just going to call you,” I say.
I update him on Tina and he gives me the news on 'Connor McCoy.’ His enthusiasm would normally be infectious but right now my enthusiasm antibodies are in full force.
After I hang up from Nick, I call Phil Jiang.
“Hi Cal. I spent last night at IF. The guy in the photo didn’t show up. But I showed a couple of people the picture and they said he’s usually there on a Sunday night so I’ll go there again tonight and see if he shows.” I tell him about last night and what happened to Tina. He says, “That’s bad Cal. But Inspector Ho’s wrong. The protestors would never do that. Foreign reporters are their best friends. Those in the police who are pro-Beijing have a very biased view of them. Someone’s trying to send you a message.”
“Maybe it’s a message I should listen to. No case is worth the life of someone you love.”
He’s silent for a moment. Then says, “I can’t advise you about that. You must do what you have to.” There is another pause, “If you do decide to drop the case and go back to Vancouver, I promise you I’ll do my best to follow up on it from over here.”
I feel a rush of relief. It makes the decision for me. I need to stay with Tina and get her through this. I’m going to drop the case. I’ll call Nick tomorrow morning Vancouver time and tell him to talk to Janusz Gutkowski.
I say my thanks and goodbyes to Phil and go back into the hospital.
A hand gently shakes my shoulder and I snap out of a bizarre dream, which was starting to coalesce in my brain. “Mr. Rogan?” It’s one of Tina’s nurses.
“How is she?” I ask. Thank God it’s not a doctor. It’s the doctors who bring the worst news.
“She’s stable but she won’t regain consciousness for a day or two.”
“But she will get better?” I can hear the pleading in my voice.
“Probably, but it’s too early to know.”
I take a couple of deep breaths to steady myself. The second one turns into a yawn.
“There’s nothing you can do here,” she says. “Why don’t you go back to your hotel and sleep for a few hours. The night nurse said you didn’t sleep at all last night. I promise we’ll call you if anything happens.”
I suppress a second yawn. “OK.” I stand up and stretch. “Thank you.” She smiles and nods.
I make my way along the corridors and through the doors to the outside.
It’s still raining.
There are taxis but I feel a strong need to walk. The rain isn’t too heavy and it actually feels good falling on my head and face. A walk back to the hotel will help me sleep. I walk a couple of blocks to Nathan Road, cross the street and turn left in the direction of the harbour. The street is packed with Saturday afternoon shoppers. After a couple of blocks, I come to the street on which the Golden Dragon is situated. A morbid fascination grips me and I cross over and walk half a block down. I arrive at the place where we tried to take the taxi and it’s still marked by the stain of Tina’s blood, not yet obliterated by the rain.
As if in response to my thought, the rain increases. If I’m going to walk back to the hotel, I should pick up an umbrella. I check my watch. Two PM. The Temple Street night market just opened, I can pick one up there. I retrace the route we took last night, go past the Golden Dragon, which seems to be closed, and come out at the north end of Temple. There is an ornate archway over the entrance to the street, which reminds me of the one in Vancouver’s Chinatown. I didn’t notice it last night.
As I enter the market, I look down between the stalls, and in the rain it makes me think of a scene from Bladerunner. I pass the stall selling luggage but the stall selling watches is not there. There is just a gap between the luggage stall and the next stall along. I feel a tug of annoyance. In the back of my mind I was hoping he would be here and that I could persuade him to talk to me about the picture of Zelena and the man in the hat. I remember his fear. I wonder if his absence today has anything to do with my conversation with him.
With the stall missing, I can see the sidewalk. Behind where the stall should be, there is a shop selling more luggage and a concrete doorway with writing above it and the number one-oh-five, which I assume is part of the address. There is a bare concrete stairway leading up, with electrical cables hanging down in loops. At the top of the stairs, all I can see is a filthy wall, which was once baby-blue. There’s something forbidding about it and I wonder if people actually live up there.
Shaking off the unpleasant feeling it evokes, I turn back to the stall selling luggage.
Immediately the stallholder is at my side. “What type suitcase you like?” she says.
I give her my best smile. “I’m looking for the man who sells watches,” I say. I show her the watch on my wrist. “I bought this one from him and I want to buy another one.”
“Not here,” she says.
I don’t comment on the obviousness of her answer but say, “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
She waves a hand in the general direction of the other vendors further down the street. “Lots people sell watches,” she says dismissively. “You buy suitcase?”
“No thanks.”
She hustles off towards another potential buyer and I continue down the market. There are indeed other vendors selling watches, but none of them are the man who was terrified by Zelena’s picture.
Again I awake with a start. I’m sweating and my heart is hammering. I try to muster the dissipating tendrils of the dream. I remember something about finding a box and being terrified. I try to remember why but the details evade my grasp, leaving me with a strong sense of unease. I am in complete darkness. I fumble for my phone on the bedside table. It’s almost ten PM. I’ve slept for six hours. Too long. I need to get to the hospital.
After the quickest shower ever, I’m dressed in clean clothes and sitting in the back seat of a taxi. Having slept on it, I’ve had a change of heart about the case. If Tina was attacked because of my investigation into Zelena, there are two options: one, I back off and, when she’s better, take her home to Vancouver; or two, I find the slime-balls who did this to her. I know it’s reckless, but I’m all over option two. Tina’s safely in the hospital and I’m going to do what I do best.
Time to check in with Phil Jiang. I pull out my phone. It rings and rings and just as I’m about to hang up, “Hi Cal.”
“Hey Phil.” Something’s not right. His voice is little more than a whisper and there’s not much background noise. “I thought you were staking out IF for the guy in the hat.”
“I was. He came in, had one drink and then left. I’m following him.”
I can feel my heartbeat ramp up.
“Any idea where he’s going?”
“No but he’s heading into a more residential area.”
I can feel the thrill now. “He’s leading you to Zelena,” I say.
“I hope so. He�
��s…” He stops speaking, I hear traffic noise in the background, then, “Gotta go. I’ll call you back.”
He hangs up. Damn.
I’m on tenterhooks all the way to the hospital then, just as I’m getting out of the cab, he calls.
“Wait a moment,” I say to the driver as I tap Accept. “Where did he go Phil?” I ask.
“I lost him.”
My hopes evaporate in one big explosion of air from my lungs. I wave the taxi off. “What happened?”
“Because it was a residential area, there weren’t a lot of people on the streets, so I was keeping about thirty or so metres behind him. He turned a corner and when I got there he was gone, like he’d just disappeared. Then I noticed there was a white Cadillac SUV disappearing down the street.”
“Did you get the plate?”
“No. It was too far away. But I’m pretty sure it was the same one I saw parked outside IF when I left.”
I think it over for a second. “He made you. Someone in the club tipped him off that you’d been looking for him.”
“Yes. It was my error. Last night, I should have paid the bar staff to keep quiet. I’m sorry Cal.”
“No prob.” Big prob, but I don’t have the heart to say it. “OK,” I say. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
I walk into the hospital and make my way to intensive care.
My phone burbles. I snatch it out of my pocket but it’s not Phil. It’s FaceTime. A big smile spreads over my face. I press Accept and after a hesitation, a grin, matching mine, appears on the screen.
“Hi Dad.”
“Hi sweetie. How are you doing?”
“Great! Mom says it’s twelve hours time difference but I knew you’d be up.” She keeps moving and the background keeps changing. Sam appears over her shoulder. “Hi Cal.” She smiles and waves then disappears as Ellie dances around.
“Hi Sam,” I say through the emotional turmoil stirred up by seeing her. I don’t know if she hears me.
“Only five more sleeps until I see you.” A wispy cloud crosses El’s face. “You will be back from Hong Kong by then, won’t you?”
“Absolutely,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel.
She frowns. “Where are you Dad?”
“I’m in a hospital.”
“OMG are you OK?” It comes out as one word.
“Yes, I’m fine. But Tina’s been hurt.”
“What happened to her?”
All the memories rush to the fore. People close to me who have been hurt because of what I do: Roy beaten to death, Nick in a wheelchair, Sam and Ellie traumatized by a drug dealer. And now Tina. I can’t subject Ellie or Sam to the truth. Or am I just being a moral coward. Either way I say, “She had an accident… on the street.”
Fortunately, she doesn’t press me for details. “Is she OK?”
Sam’s concerned face reappears over Ellie’s shoulder. She does press me for the details. “What happened?” she asks.
I chicken out. “I can’t go into it right now, I’m about to go into the ICU. I’ll call you guys back tomorrow.”
“Say 'hi’ to Tina for me Dad and give her my love.” She makes kissing noises. “I love you.”
Sam smiles and blows a kiss.
“Love you too sweetie.” We do the three… two… one… thing and hang up.
I push open the doors and walk into the reception area of the ICU.
I want so much to take off the surgical glove and hold her hand, skin-to-skin. She is lying silent in the bed, breathing unevenly. Although the nurses keep telling me she’s not out of the woods yet, I take it as a positive sign that they are letting me sit here. Or are they just being kind and giving me my final moments with her?
All the emotions I’ve been bottling up—the frustration of the case, the hatchet job someone’s working on us, my conversation with Sam and, worst of all, what I’ve let happen to Tina—burst through the dam and I find myself sobbing uncontrollably. I just give myself over to it and let the sobs rack my body until I am left drained. I take in a final breath and let it out in an uneven sigh.
I haven’t cried like that since I was in another hospital crying over the body of my father.
With the mask and visor they are making me wear, I can’t even reach up and wipe away the tears.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” I say to her, “but I am so, so sorry I let this happen to you. I just want to say I—”
My words are cut off by the entrance of a doctor with one of the nurses. “Hello Mr. Rogan,” he says.
“How is she doctor?”
He smiles gently, “It’s difficult to say. If she gets through the night, maybe she’ll be OK.”
My jaw clamps down and I have difficulty swallowing.
“You’ll have to leave now,” the nurse says. “Why don’t you come back in a couple of hours and we’ll let you sit with her again.”
I get up and leave her room, divest myself of the mask, gown and visor and walk out through the doors of the ICU.
Like the time I cried over my dead father, the sorrow turns to a rage. But this time it’s controlled and silent. I am going to find whoever did this to her and make them pay. I have two hours. I check my watch. Ten-thirty. When Tina was attacked, we had just come from the Golden Dragon. Maybe the bouncer there saw someone follow us out.
The walk to the nightclub takes less than ten minutes. As I walk in, I scan the room. The bouncer is on the same seat as last night. Except that it’s not the same bouncer. This one is younger. Last night’s guardian of the peace is not in evidence. However last night’s barmaid is in evidence. She’s standing at the left hand end of the bar taking an order from a woman who looks like she’s too young to be in here. I walk over to the bar and sit down. The barmaid turns towards me with a big smile but as she sees my face that smile goes slip sliding away. She cuts a glance to the right-hand end of the bar and I follow her gaze. There is a man standing behind the bar. He is dressed in an immaculate suit, which he wears like a model. It must be Leo, Harvey Lim’s friend and one of the owners. His black hair is slicked back and his face looks vaguely familiar. As if sensing the combined gazes of his server and myself, he turns toward us. His eyes lock with mine.
Recognition dawns simultaneously on both of us.
The shape of his jaw is the giveaway. It’s the man in the hat. After evading Phil Jiang, he must have come straight here.
I get off my seat and walk along the bar towards him, my mind teeming with questions.
He holds my gaze for a moment, indecision written on his face, but when I’m only a couple of paces away, he turns and vanishes through a door at the back of the bar. I am not going to let him get away. I scan the bar looking for the opening the servers use to move between the bar and the customers. There isn’t one. The bar is too high for me to vault over but maybe I can climb it. Then I see what I need: beyond the left-hand end of the bar, a server bearing a tray of food and exotic looking cocktails is pushing his way through a swinging door. I can use the door to get into the area behind the bar. I break into a run and just as I get to the door, it starts to swing open again. I grab the handle and come face-to-face with the bouncer who was on duty last night. He looks me straight in the eye. “Staff only,” he says quietly.
He’s not as big as the bouncer at IF but something tells me he’s a lot more dangerous. But right now I don’t give a damn. Speed and surprise will win the day. Trying to look as if he has intimidated me, I take a half step back and raise my hands in subjugation. I see him relax his stance. Error. Go for the eyes.
I swivel left, as if about to turn away, and make a fist with my still upraised left hand. I’ll only have one shot here. With every ounce of strength, I propel my fist forward.
But it doesn’t move.
Newton’s third law takes over. I stagger and almost fall over backwards.
My wrist is in the considerable grip of the other bouncer.
A plan B comes to mind. All is not yet lost. “OK, OK,”
I say. “I know the drill. I’ll leave.” If I can get out of here quickly enough…
Last night’s bouncer reaches forward and takes a more-than-firm grip on my right elbow. “Please come with us,” he says. They may not be the Borg, but I know resistance is futile. They lead me through the swinging door into the nightclub’s kitchen and take me into a corner where the activity is the least frenetic. The kitchen staff ignore us.
Nothing happens.
We just stand there.
Maybe we’re waiting for the man behind the bar—whom I assume to be Leo, the owner and friend of Harvey, Zelena’s boyfriend—to come and confront me.
We wait.
Last night’s bouncer checks his watch.
I start to feel an unpleasant sensation writhe in my gut.
We wait.
This cannot be good.
I look around the kitchen. One of the staff walks over with a net in his hand; it’s holding a fish, twitching vigorously. Deftly, he takes a grip on the fish, pulls it out of the net and slaps it down on a wooden slab right in front of us. With one fluid motion, he pulls a cleaver from an array above his head, decapitates the fish and returns the cleaver to its place. A small knife appears in his hand and within the span of a few seconds, the fish is gutted, filleted and cut into bite sized cubes. He takes a bowl and scoops the pieces into it.
As he turns away, last night’s bouncer says something to him. He shrugs, takes down the cleaver and hands it over.
The unpleasant sensation becomes a whirlwind.
I try to pull away from them but it’s mission impossible.
I wait for him to make his move.
But he doesn’t.
We just wait and I think about the body of the detective, Mr. Wang, with knives through the backs of his hands.
A door in the far-left corner of the kitchen opens.
A man walks in.
It’s Leo.
Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 4, 5 & 6 (Box Set) Page 62
