Take A Thousand Cuts

by TERESA HUNTER

  “But the bad risk doesn't disappear does it?”

  “Not exactly, but you neutralise it. That's the theory.”

  “And did you?”

  “Look,” Silverman swung round from the fireplace and pointed to the window. “The sun’s come out. Do you ride?”

  “Yes, I can do.”

  “Come on then.”

  CHAPTER 14

  THE SUN had indeed come out – the black sky sucked far away, and replaced by a rainbow of pastel colours. Blues, pinks, turquoises. The tide had receded at an astonishing pace to reveal a vast expanse of golden beaches stretching miles in every direction. It didn't take Julia long to change into the over-trousers and polo shirt offered.

  She couldn't wait to get in the saddle after seeing the magnificent steeds in the stables buried low in the island, with a clear run onto the sands.

  “Where d’you learn to ride?” Silverman asked, as they led their mounts splashing through shallow water.

  “Home counties girl. Nothing much else to do in the country,” she grinned.

  And then they were off, galloping along the sand, the sun warm on their backs. They were a match for each other as they raced across cove after cove, along deserted beaches, and shallow lapping water. A flock of birds drew letters across the sky. Cs, As, and Ds.

  “Let's stop here,” Silverman shouted to her, raising a hand to slow her pace. He dismounted. She followed and slipped down. They walked the horses for a bit, allowing their heart rates to slow.

  “So what drives you Julia?” Silverman asked, as they ambled along the beach.

  “Goodness. It’s a long time since anyone’s asked me that.”

  “It can’t be the money. You’re a smart girl. You could earn a fortune in the City. Is it power?”

  “Curiosity, I guess. And a desire for neatness. Unless you know what’s going on, you can’t put it right.”

  “Ah, the fourth estate.”

  “Exactly. Sometimes the police, judiciary and church aren’t enough. The media has an important job to do – investigate and expose. We’re outside the establishment, yet part of it.”

  “Putting the world to rights,” he shot her a sideways smile.

  “Something like that. Making a difference.”

  When they reached a secluded cove, Silverman tied his reins through a brass ring buried into the rock.

  “Probably smugglers,” he secured her reins in another such smugglers hook. He walked towards a slit in the cliff face, just big enough to squeeze through, and turned signalling for her to follow.

  Where’s this going? Julia wondered as she stepped through the cave crevice. A dark narrow passageway opened up into a colossal cavern.

  “One of our best kept secrets,” he stood staring into a massive rock bath, cut out of the granite, and filled with shimmering water, which flickered silver, midnight blue and deep green.

  “Filled by a natural spring,” he flashed a torch around the chamber. “Smugglers used these caves. We think one of them carved the bath for his lover. Perhaps. We'll never know.”

  Julia shuddered. The cave was cold and damp. Light washed in and out as the sun refracted through the opening. Uncanny shadows ricocheted in every direction. Quivers of sapphire blue and sea green bounced off amethyst, glittering from the rocks.

  Oh no, Julia felt a migraine stirring. Pulsing bright flashes messed with her dopamine. If I don't get out soon, my vision will go. Nausea started to rise. Refracting lights affected her badly.

  She looked at Silverman. A strange far away expression enveloped his features. He started to speak in a low voice, almost a whisper, but his words echoed round the hollow grotto.

  “There was a girl with us that weekend.”

  “Laura Wan Sun,” Julia whispered. Her voice rang back against the rocks. She closed her eyes, as her head started to spin.

  “She was the only one who spoke against the scheme. Tried to persuade us it was a genie we could never put back in the bottle.”

  “Was she right?” Julia opened her eyes and sought to fight the rising dizziness. The wall of the caves whirled.

  I have to get out of here.

  “Oh yes. When they saw how well it worked, everyone else piled in. No understanding of the risks or how to manage them. They packaged all kinds of junk and garbage together. Now they’re waking up to the cesspit they’re wading in...”

  “That’s why the markets...”

  “Are on the brink of a massive collapse? The world's river of money which keeps all our wheels turning is about to dry up. Without money nothing can function. Economies suffer seismic shocks, like a heart attack or stroke. Without money no one gets paid, health care breaks down, no one can go shopping, no one can put food on the table.”

  “D’you blame yourself?”

  “No,” he answered a bit too quickly. “It wasn't our fault. There was nothing wrong with the model. We hadn't reckoned for the stupidity of others.”

  “What about Peak?”

  “Hong Kong is not the safe haven it used to be.”

  “China?” Julia asked. Silverman sighed and looked grim.

  “If I were in Hong Kong right now, I’d get the hell out.”

  “And Wan Sun?”

  “Laura? I don't know,” he sounded lost. “She left the bank shortly after. We kept in touch for a while. Sweet girl. Her parents were doctors. I heard she retrained, and returned to Hong Kong.”

  Hong Kong again. Then the crashing headache she feared, struck like an axe in the brain.

  “I’d like to find Laura. Make sure she’s safe. Is that something you could help me with?”

  He flashed brilliant sapphire-blue eyes at her. She was utterly alone with him and suddenly frightened.

  “I'm sorry, I have to go. This cave and the flashing lights are making me feel ill.”

  “Is that a No?”

  “Let me think about it.”

  Once out in the fresh air she could breathe again, and the nausea subsided. The ride back along the sands eased her headache and revived her spirits. The wind in her hair blew a question.

  Why did he bring me to this strange isolated location? Could it be, this cave, cut deep into the rock, is the only place he can guarantee not being watched or bugged? The only place he feels safe?

  JULIA DECLINED the offer of further hospitality and headed straight back to London. Trigg drove her to the station in the Land Rover. The sun was high when they rumbled over the causeway cobbles. Julia looked back at the silver, shimmering path. As she did so, a shadow caught her eye. It disappeared in a flash. She craned her neck to see better. It was gone. And yet...

  This place is driving me crazy. I must stop imagining things, she thought turning to face the road ahead, dismissing an unsettled fidgeting in the back of her mind. That cave has befuddled me. I’ll be fine when I get back to the smoke and can think clearly again.

  She took the first train to Paddington even though she had to change at Plymouth. Six-hours, barbaric – I could get to New York faster. Engine problem on the first lap waved goodbye to the Plymouth connection. This journey is turning into a nightmare.

  It gave her time to think. As she swayed awkwardly in sync with the slow rolling carriage, she took stock. All roads led to Hong Kong. Her Adam Lee investigations were going nowhere. She wanted to speak to the mastermind Warwick Mantel. She would give anything to interview Laura Wan Sun, the single woman on Pluto – as Julia liked to think of that brainstorming gathering. Silverman wanted her found. Silverman was a man used to getting what he wanted.

  Could it be that Laura might provide the vital clue to the recent death and disappearance?

  Be honest with yourself, Julia, a little voice piped up from deep inside. Why do you really want to go to Hong Kong? Why go half way round the world in pursuit of Silverman’s old flame?

  A tough question. I don’t know the answer. She only knew her instincts, something in her gut, told her this was where she was destined to go.

  She w
as struggling with doubts when her phone buzzed. A text arrived. It was from the gynae clinic. “Sorry. Your test result has been delayed. Any queries please don’t hesitate to contact.”

  She smiled, thinking of the handsome consultant. “Oh well, these things happen.”

  By the time the train crept slowly into Paddington at gone 11.30pm, she had made a decision. There's nothing for it. I have to go to Hong Kong. How will I get Ludgate to agree?

  She would find a suitable moment at the Chinese Embassy. He's bound to be in a good mood. I'll slip it past him after a few glasses.

  THE HALL CLOCK chimed midnight, as she entered her flat – 7am Hong Kong time. Give it another half-an-hour. She fired up her laptop and Googled Richard Welbeck, a former colleague, she had an idea worked for the Economic Journal on the island. Please still be there, she crossed the fingers of one hand. Yes! And a number for him. Fantastic.

  She made a reviving cup of Earl Grey tea. Bang on 7.30am Hong Kong time, she called Richard.

  “Julia Lighthorn here. Not too early for you, am I?”

  “This is a surprise.”

  She imagined him grinning, as if he were sitting opposite her, as he had for years when they both worked at the Record.

  “What time is it there?” he asked.

  “After midnight. I was thinking of a trip to Hong Kong.”

  “Fabulous. You must stay with me. Long visit or short? Have you got a Visa?”

  “No.”

  “Short then.”

  “I was thinking just a few days to check out developments. Looks interesting your end.”

  “Not from where I’m sitting. No one queuing outside our banks last time I looked.”

  “Ouch. How do I get a visa?”

  “It takes time. You can come for three days as a tourist. I’d apply for a visa, in case you want to come back for longer. It'll be great to see you and catch up. Right now the rest of the world is watching London and New York in total bewilderment. I could do with an inside track. Make your arrangements. I'll meet you at the airport.”

  Next, she searched for Peak Bank, called the head office number and asked for Warwick Mantel. She didn't expect to be put straight through, but spoke to his secretary who advised her to arrange her trip and email dates.

  “I must warn you, his diary’s very full.”

  She booked a flight for late Monday, arriving Tuesday evening, Hong Kong time, and emailed the dates to Mantel's office. Then she closed her laptop, crossed fingers, shut both eyes, and whispered over and again.

  “Please let me go, Andrew.”

  Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with the strains of the day and collapsed exhausted into bed. She fell asleep in a wink and a nod and dreamt of castles in the sea, mystical caves and shadows.

  CHAPTER 15

  7pm Friday August 6

  Marylebone

  INCONGRUOUS choice for the London home of the People's Republic of China, Julia thought, as she stared at the elegant facade of the palace, designed in the late 1700s, by the famous British architect Robert Adams. Equally incongruous, she smiled watching Andrew Ludgate approach in lounge suit rather than his normal tails, standard uniform for a banquet in the city. Julia had arrived early. It didn't pay to keep your editor waiting.

  Ludgate greeted her with a smile and an appreciative twinkle in his eye.

  “Red suits you,” he said. “Colour of good luck in China.”

  He made no attempt at the cursory peck on the cheek professionals sometimes exchanged. Julia was relieved. He held out his arm to propel her forward.

  Once inside, Georgian splendour quickly gave way to Chinese functionality. The entrance was packed with guests thronging to the main hall. As they walked through the crush, Ludgate pointed out various figures.

  “See that guy over there, the one with the checked tie? That's David Ruff. He fronts up the massive Chinese-owned electric vehicle empire in Coventry. Makes all the London cabs.”

  “What's Lord Parr doing here?” Julia spotted the boss of a large merchant bank.

  “Chinese have the biggest stake in that too.”

  They arrived at the table plan. “We're on different tables,” he said.

  Julia nodded, another name catching her eye. Simon Chang, of Chang Technology. Could this be Wo Chang’s grandson? On another table she spotted Anthony Chang from Chang Deposits. She elbowed her way through a scrum of bodies to her table.

  An attractive young man greeted her with a warm smile.

  “Hello, seems we’re sitting together,” he offered her a hand. “My name’s Zhang Yong. My London friends call me Ziggy. I teach at the School of Oriental and African studies.”

  “You don't look like an academic,” Julia smiled as she shook hands, adding, “Julia Lighthorn…I'm a journalist.”

  On her other side stood a giant of a man, who introduced himself as He Len, director of a Chinese-owned IT firm, operating out of Hammersmith. His bulging eyes and thin lips reminded her of a hippopotamus.

  With the party assembled, they sat and the entertainment began. A troupe of dancers parading banners and flags skipped in to a robust Chinese fanfare. Musicians followed behind, marching to the top of the room, where chairs awaited them. They sat. The melodies switched to a gentler zither sound.

  “That's the fisherman's song at dusk,” Ziggy whispered to her.

  “Very pretty,” she smiled back.

  Music subsided, and the room burst in zealous applause. It lasted several minutes. When it showed no signs of dying, the Ambassador stood, bowed, and signalled for the room to hush. Silence descended and he began his speech, first welcoming his guests, then moving onto weightier matters. It was much as Julia anticipated – the phenomenal rise in economic and technological power of the People's Republic of China, the soaring numbers of overseas students in international capitals – nearly 200,000 in London. Finally, he spoke with passion about his nation's race against America to become the world's number one superpower.

  “Powerful stuff,” Ziggy muttered with a touch of cynicism, as the Ambassador sat down to yet more tumultuous applause.

  “Very powerful indeed,” boomed He Len, rising to his feet, throwing a furious glance at the younger man. Others soon joined the ovation, including an uncomfortable-looking Ziggy.

  They sat as the food arrived. A selection of dishes were placed on vast lazy susans for guests to share in the Chinese custom. Julia spooned some chicken and vegetables into her bowl and pincered them into her mouth using chop sticks.

  He Len began talking to her loudly. “No question, when it comes to technology, China is light years ahead of the US. We have worked hard to become supreme. My company is now worth £200 billion. Nothing in the US is bigger,” he paused to shovel food greedily into his mouth.

  Julia feigned interest, as she was professionally trained to do, while thinking, What an odious man.

  He was off again. “We know how to encourage talent. We send our cleverest students abroad to study the most advanced techniques of other economies. Then we copy them, and push further, nothing will stop us,” he reached for a vegetable dish, and emptied its entire contents into his bowl.

  Julia swallowed, struggling to digest his cold-blooded pride in state-sponsored intellectual property theft.

  Obscene, she thought, not to mention criminal.

  “The problem with Western democracies is all they do is talk, talk, talk,” He Len continued, a sneer fixed to his ugly mouth. “In China we say, we will do this and we do it. In the UK you say we will do this, and then you all sit around talking. You can't agree on anything, so nothing happens.”

  Julia had sat beside some obnoxious dinner guests in her time, but this guy scraped the bottom of the barrel. Her fixed smile was starting to hurt, so when she saw Andrew rise from his table, and head presumably for the boy's room, she too made her apologies and escaped. The restrooms were off a gallery, overlooking the banqueting hall. From a bay offering a bird’s-eye view of the scene below, she watched He Len r
ise, presumably also in search of the restrooms. He didn’t get far. Another man blocked his exit. From the expression on both faces, whatever they were discussing the exchange was far from amicable. The body language was unmistakable. The newcomer was angry, and became angrier still at He Len’s arrogant dismissal. Tempers rose and he shoved He Len on the shoulder, who gesticulated rudely, but turned his back and walked away.

  “Simon Chang and He Len,” Andrew said walking up behind her.

  “No love lost there,” Julia said.

  “Rival IT bosses. Probably a feud over some deal. How you getting on?” he asked.

  “OK, but there’s only so much non-stop propaganda you can take.”

  “Even when delivered with a smile,” Andrew nodded. “Had to cut your piece today. Sorry. Nothing wrong with it. Just tight on space. What d’you think of the Ambassador's nephew?”

  “The IT plutocrat?”

  “No, Zhang Yong, very useful contact. Work it.”

  “Ziggy? Good grief I had no idea. He Len is a pain. Creepy.”

  “That's what I like about you, your rational sense of objectivity.”

  Sensing an opportunity, Julia ignored the dig, and decided to strike while the iron was hot.

  “It's all very interesting though isn't it? China? The big news story. I'd like to go to Hong Kong. See the other side for myself.”

  “Have you gone mad?” his tone darkened. “What on earth are you talking about? How can you even think about leaving the country with the economy imploding and gutters filling with dead and missing bankers.”

  “I know – but it's a big financial centre. I got a lead from Silverman. A good lead about what's going on. There’re some key players in Hong Kong I need to speak to.”

  Ludgate shook his head furiously. “If you disappear at a time like this, there will be consequences. Careers and reputations are forged in crisis. They can be broken, too.”

  She knew it was a serious warning. If she left a void others would fill it. Top of that list would be the vile Matthew Hopkins. There was nothing she could do about that right now.