Hong Kong

by Mel Odom

  He stared at the street map hanging on the wall behind me. “We’re marooned on this island, hunted by the cops, my partner is dead, Raymond is missing, and we’re about to go see a crime lord about erasing our goddamn identities!”

  Stated straight out like that, it was a drekload to manage for someone not used to running the shadows. For those of us who did, it was almost business as usual.

  “And as a bonus,” Duncan went on, “our only allies are a pair of tiny criminals who would kill us if they could so they didn’t have to deal with any of this.”

  Yep. Definitely business as usual.

  Flicking his gaze from the map, Duncan focused on me. “Listen. Back in the Barrens. Whenever I was out of control, you just handled the situation. Remember?”

  I did. Duncan’s time in foster care had left him scarred in ways I’d never wanted to imagine.

  “With Carter gone,” he continued, “I’m just a raw nerve. I’m afraid I’m going to slip back…and people are gonna start getting hurt again.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “I got your back, Duncan.”

  He nodded. “Well, don’t press it. I need time to get used to…you.”

  “Sure. We’ll go slow as we can.” But with all the danger waiting out there for us, I knew the likelihood of that was slim.

  “Now let’s go meet that triad woman,” he growled, “and get our damned SINs burned. I want to rip off the bandage as quick as I can.”

  I studied the street map for another tick and located the Swift Winds Mahjong Parlor down in the dockyard. I tracked the streets back and figured out the route. I’d always been good with remembering things on the fly.

  Then I led the way out of the subway.

  Being out on the street wasn’t much better than being underground. When we came up the steps from the maglev station, the same chem stink filled the air, mixed in with street vendor foods. Is0bel had been telling it true about the smog and the overcast sky. Hong Kong was all about industrial production without the hazards of environmental protection.

  Daytime Hong Kong probably wasn’t much removed from nighttime Hong Kong. With the absence of direct sunlight, the streets looked murky, like dirty swamps. But there were more people around, and that made me feel relieved and threatened at the same time. Too many eyes were looking for us.

  I kept moving, and Duncan followed a couple steps back and one to my right, just like we used to do it on the streets. Both of us had a clear field of fire, and I knew the direction to Kindly Cheng’s mahjong parlor.

  I turned up my coat collar against the wind skating in off the ocean just across the street and followed the directions on my GPS. The harbor smelled like a sewer interspersed with strong chems, and junks with ribbed sails floated alongside diesel-powered fishing boats and rowboats. Men and women worked on the vessels, but some of them sat on the decks or on benches. They smoked and they drank, and they waited for opportunity to come to them. I suspected a lot of them were bombed out of their gourds and unconscious with their eyes open. This area of the sprawl gave off that kind of vibe, and I’d seen it too many times not to recognize it for what it was.

  A place called Club 88 occupied the corner across the intersection. A large troll bouncer worked the door and looked intimidating. It was the kind of place that did biz off the books, and biz even farther off the books. The place was a known criminal hangout, according to what Duncan had heard from a fellow traveler when he and Carter had arrived. The club had been cited for a number of infractions, criminal and civil, and was the scene of several violent crimes.

  Despite all that, the joint remained open. That told me it was protected, networked into someone’s operations. I marked it for possible investigation.

  Then I picked up the trail to Kindly Cheng’s again, following narrow walkways over the slowly swirling green-black water. The lapping ocean rumbled around me as waves pushed against pier poles and the moored watercraft.

  Lights glowed against the fronts of warehouses and from the decks of houseboats where groups, some of them families, gathered and watched Duncan and me pass by. No one asked our business, and several of them reached under their clothing or into the shadows on their boats for what I was certain were weapons.

  Hong Kong, at least this part of it, wasn’t welcoming. In the distance behind them, I saw a large cargo freighter sitting in the darkness, with only a few lights marking its position.

  Long moments later, we reached our destination. A large billboard advertising the Swift Winds Mahjong Parlor occupied the top of the small single-story structure built into side of a three-story building. Lanterns hung in what I recognized as strategic positions, so that the pools of light kept the night at bay. I was certain sec-cams were hidden there, too.

  Another muscle-bound troll stood watch over the entrance. I ignored him and walked to the door. If he had a problem with that, I figured he’d let me know.

  When I pulled the door open and smelled the strong spices and rice wine within, I had a brief moment of wary trepidation. I had only been out of lockdown for a few days. I didn’t want to go back, and I didn’t want to end up dead.

  I especially didn’t want to get Duncan killed. Raymond Black had already gone missing, and I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.

  Touching my weapons for luck, I walked through the door.

  Chapter 14

  Those Without Sin

  Inside, the mahjong parlor sparkled, filled with oriental rugs and decorations that included inlaid tables, vases, potted plants, and elegant but subdued lighting that allowed the men playing with multicolored tiles to enjoy their tea and meals. The tiles clicked as the players quickly dropped them into place, and low murmurs of conversation continued as I stood there clicking my cybervision into optimum viewing mode.

  Duncan flanked me immediately and stepped off to the right. We never stood too close together. That made it too easy for someone to pick both of us off at once. That was one of the first lessons we’d learned on the street.

  His dislike for the place and the people around us felt like nettles against my back. Like me, he figured most of the men at the tables were criminals and sec guards watching over the place.

  Across the room, Gobbet and Is0bel stood in front of a middle-aged Chinese woman dressed in a vintage, high-necked dress. A cigarette holder in her left hand held something that definitely wasn’t a cigarette. Our new friends looked nervous, but not scared. I took that as a good sign.

  The woman caught my gaze with her own and smiled, but her dark eyes held no mirth and no welcome. “Come in,” she said in a sultry voice. “We have much to discuss.”

  I crossed the floor and stopped a meter in front of her, picking up the protective stance the man behind her and to her right automatically dropped into. I didn’t want to test his reflexes or where he considered Kindly Cheng’s personal space started, so I stood there and showed him empty hands.

  Duncan took up a position to the side, so he could cover the sec man without risking me.

  The clicking of the mahjong tiles halted behind me. The players’ hands dropped beneath the tables, and I had no doubts all of them were now wrapped around weapons.

  Up close, Kindly Cheng was a beautiful woman. She’d spared no expense on getting her image perfect, but her features remained as cold and distant as a hangman’s. Her black hair was coiled up on her head, held in place by what were probably real whalebone combs.

  “My little pair of fuckups here told me all about what happened on the docks.” Kindly Cheng’s voice was rough, deeper, and more smoky than I’d imagined. “How two of my best runners had their heads put out. How you need protection. And how you need to get your identities wiped before you get your heads put out, too.”

  I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say until the offer came. Or didn’t.

  She picked up a shot glass from a nearby table, dipped her pinkie into it, and licked the residue from her finger. She looked at me, then at Duncan, and
I knew she was measuring both of us with the same innate skill of a butcher.

  “You’ve potentially led the heat to my front door,” she accused. “Placing me and everyone in my employ in danger.” She raised an imperious eyebrow. “So wise. So very, very wise.”

  I didn’t bite on her sarcasm. If I’d been her, I’d have been pissed, too.

  Gobbet stared at the floor and spoke in a small voice. “We’re sorry, Auntie. We thought—”

  “You mustn’t speak until you are spoken to, Gobbet, dear.” Kindly Cheng’s black eyes flashed. “And since you are one short hair away from being dumped in the river chained to Is0bel’s corpse, I suggest you let your new friends here do the talking for a while.” She smiled. “Does that make sense to you, dear?”

  “Yes, Auntie.”

  “Very good. You learn so quickly.”

  I debated for just an instant, wondering if Kindly Cheng was a woman who wanted to run the show herself without any kind of pushback, or if she respected someone who stood up for himself. I erred on the side of taking a stand.

  “Gobbet kept a very cool head in a tense situation,” I pointed out. “She’s the one who led us out of the police ambush.”

  Turning her head only a little, Gobbet shot me a look of disbelief from the corner of her eye, then returned her attention to the floor.

  Taking a puff of her medicinal herb, Kindly Cheng gave me an appraising glance. “I count little Gobbet here among my most resourceful runners, but I admit it’s good to have…outside validation from time to time.”

  A rat on Gobbet’s shoulder crept out from under her hair and stared at me. The rat shaman gave me a quick look too, but I couldn’t read anything there.

  Kindly Cheng’s face hardened, and she shot me a scathing glare. “And now that you’ve shared that valuable little tidbit, perhaps you would be so kind as to keep your fucking mouth shut until you’re spoken to.” She smiled. “Can you do that for me?”

  I nodded, but I stayed ready to pull iron at any moment. The woman had psycho written all over her, but she was also smart enough to succeed in a lethal criminal organization.

  She smiled. “I do appreciate it, dear.” She turned and poured herself another drink. “Now, my darlings, I understand from little Rat-shit here that you came from Seattle to meet with my client, Mr. Black.”

  That was a surprise, but I didn’t let it show. The Dragon Lady wasn’t the only one who could pull off a stone face.

  Unfortunately, Duncan wasn’t so gifted. His jaw tightened in response, just a flicker that I hoped no one but me would notice.

  “But before you could find him, the HKPF started splattering gray matter everywhere, and everything went to shit.”

  I regarded her, wondering if our bad luck hadn’t just been a product of her poor planning from the start. The old man was missing, and Duncan and I had been dropped in the deep shit before we could blink.

  “And now you need your SINs burned,” she went on, “so you can disappear before you end up dead as well. Is that right?”

  I chose to play it nice and polite. Threatening wouldn’t work, and asking would only make me look weak. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Very good. Why don’t we start with you telling me who you are?”

  I gave her the name I’d been locked down under. That ID had been expensive, but it had been toast the minute Cross Applied Technologies had taken me off the streets. My real name had disappeared a long time ago.

  “Do you have a profession?” Kindly Cheng asked. She was thorough, and I liked that. “I mean, you do want me to erase your identities, don’t you, dear? I’ll need to know everything.”

  I gave it to her straight. “I do what needs doing.”

  “I know the type,” she replied. “How did you become someone who does what needs doing?”

  “Let’s just say I’m self-taught and leave it at that.” I wasn’t going to give her everything. She was either going to help or she wasn’t.

  Duncan nodded. “Better leave it at that.”

  Anger twisted Kindly Cheng’s face for just an instant as she whipped around to look at Duncan. Then she sized him up and turned to her sec man, giving him a slight nod.

  “Looks like the gun show is in town.” Kindly Cheng traced Duncan’s bare, beefy biceps with her fingers. “What’s your name, Gun Show?”

  “Duncan Wu. I’m a cop. Lone Star.” He said it with pride, and I felt a little bad for him because I knew he wasn’t going to be saying that ever again.

  “I hear there were some fresh corpses found on the dock tonight. Smugglers, I believe. Didn’t sound like the Hong Kong police when I heard about it. Your doing, Duncan Wu?”

  “I identified myself as Lone Star. They wouldn’t stand down. They had weapons. It was self-defense.”

  Kindly Cheng smiled. “I don’t care, sweetie. They weren’t my people. But now I know you’re a life taker, Mr. Gun Show. You and your friend here.” She pushed around some of the mahjong tiles on the table beside her, sliding them smoothly across the polished wood. “But now I’m curious—why were you meeting Raymond Black at the docks tonight?”

  “He’s a friend,” I replied. “Said he needed our help.”

  “Really?” Her eyes narrowed against the smoke trailing from her herb. “You have a lot of sixty-five year old friends who you’ll fly around the world to help?”

  “He raised us,” Duncan said before I could reply, and I silently cursed him for being so honest. But that was Duncan. “Raymond Black is our foster father.”

  “Interesting.” She frowned. “Sorry, kids, but he was looking like shit when I saw him—eyes half open, dark circles around them, dragging his feet—the whole bit.”

  Pain darkened Duncan’s face.

  “Your foster daddy was in a bad place.”

  “Sounds like he wasn’t sleeping,” I said, though that sounded like the least of it. The old man had problems sleeping some nights back home, too. I used to watch him walk around nights, half-afraid for him, and half-afraid of him because having unsettled foster parents was rarely a good thing.

  Kindly Cheng surprised me with her answer. “Could be. From what he said, it sounded like he was having nightmares. He would stop in the middle of a sentence and mutter something to himself. One time it was about the walls breathing or something. Another time it was about the teeth. Thousands of teeth.”

  That sounded vaguely familiar. A fragment of a memory rose in my mind for just an instant, then it slipped away.

  “I remember him drifting off at the end of our meeting,” she continued. “It looked like he was off somewhere else in his head. He said, ‘I left prosperity in there.’ Then Nightjar put his hand on Mr. Black’s shoulder. Asked him why he wanted to go into the Walled City so badly. That seemed to bring him back. When your old man opened his eyes, they were full of tears. Then he muttered something else I couldn’t make out.” She poured herself another drink and shrugged. “Your daddy got really irritating after a while.”

  “What do you think it means?” I asked.

  “I have no fucking clue.” She lit up another herb. “All right, let’s get to it.” Expelling smoke, she pointed at Duncan and me. “You two need your SINs burned, and you need them burned fast. Hong Kong dragnets are bad news. When they roll, they roll in force. Armored personnel carriers, heavy armor, heavy weapons, sorcerers—the whole thing. And they aren’t coming to arrest you.”

  I wasn’t scared. At least, I wasn’t any more scared than I had been. There was nothing surprising in anything she was telling us.

  “The good news is,” she said, “I can help you. With a wave of my hand, I can have your SINs disappear. But you need to understand, my darlings, is that what you’re asking is not a simple request. Burning a SIN isn’t just deleting a number—it’s wiping all reference to that number from all the world’s largest databases.”

  Duncan worked his jaw.

  “It’s masking your mugshot in their facial recognition database,” she went on,
“so the first camera you walk past doesn’t bring them down on top of you like a ton of bricks. It’s covering our fucking tracks so that the act of burning your SIN doesn’t lead them right to us. It requires contacts in numerous corporations and the UCAS government.” She blew smoke through her nose. “It requires someone like me.”

  I just looked at her and didn’t say a word. It was her show. I just hoped she was as good as she thought she was.

  “Therefore, I need to make a choice,” she said. “Do I kill you and dispose of your bodies before the cops come looking for you, or do I help you burn your SINs?”

  Duncan looked at me. I went back to my roots, back to the streets where I grew up and all the tradecraft I’d learned there. I stared right into that woman’s black eyes. “You may want to think about your rep as a fixer first. Two of your runners were taken down by the cops, and you have no idea why.”

  Her smile was cold, and I knew my challenge was going to cost us—even though it was probably what saved our lives. “So clever. So, so clever.” She tapped her lacquered nails on the tabletop. “Yes, I have been placed in a delicate situation, haven’t I? Regardless, that’s the situation whether you’re alive or you’re sucking dirt.” She took in a breath and let it out. “You live. You’re clever, and I like that. I’ll put your SINs to the torch. However, I’ll need to call in several valuable favors within my network to do it. And those favors do not come cheap. You will owe me.”

  I didn’t like that, but I knew we didn’t have a choice. I decided to play nice—for now. “Whatever you say, Auntie.”

  “Don’t roll over so easily, my darling. People will think you’re an ass-kisser. It’s unbecoming.”

  I smiled at her.

  “I want you to deliver a message for me.” She looked me in the eye. “To a business associate in the Walled City. The Yellow Lotus has a strong presence inside. Is0bel can tell you all about it, can’t you, dear? Is0bel grew up in the Walled City.”

  Is0bel spoke in a flat monotone. “They collect taxes for the corporations. Extort protection money from shopkeepers. Run drugs, guns, people.” She paused. “They hurt people.”