Hong Kong

by Mel Odom

  “Nothing more than some hurt feelings,” I said. “And maybe a few broken bones.” I chose not to mention the hellhounds.

  “I am pleased and surprised.”

  “Gobbet did a great job of guiding us.” I wanted to shore up the ork shaman in Kindly Cheng’s eyes.

  “Did she?” The old woman beamed at her protégé. “Good to know. The message is delivered and Strangler Bao is back in the fold, earning for me. As far as I am concerned, our transaction is complete. While you were gone, I set the wheels in motion to wipe your identities.” She pulled out a comm and flicked it with a lacquered fingernail that held the image of a tiny but ferocious dragon. “The order has been sent. Congratulations, you are now SINless. Shadow-people.”

  Beside me, I felt some of the energy go out of Duncan. I looked at him. “We’ll figure a way out of this.”

  “There’s only one way out of this,” he said. “And that’s through it. Whoever gave the kill order on Carter also forced us to give up our identities. And took Raymond.” He lifted his chin defiantly. “That’s all I can think about this. Finding who did this. Finding Ray.”

  Kindly Cheng held up a hand. “While I was working to get your SINs burned, I also had my network look into Raymond Black’s disappearance.”

  I wondered what her angle was. She wasn’t someone who idly did things. What had caught her interest?

  “I’ve been thinking about what you told me earlier.” She leaned in toward us. “And I agree. I can’t just let this lie. Someone also killed my runners. It would be a sign of weakness to the Yellow Lotus and the others if I do nothing about that.” Checking her comm again, she tapped a couple times, and looked back up. “I have news to share, my darlings. The kind you won’t like. Raymond Black is dead.” She held out her comm.

  The image on the screen showed an old picture of Raymond. I recognized it as his publicity shot of the time he was opening a youth shelter in the Redmond Barrens. The crawler beneath the image scrolled: SEATTLE MAN KILLED AT VICTORIA HARBOR.

  I felt like someone had slammed a cyber-assisted punch into my gut.

  The image faded away and a young female reporter’s face took shape there. She looked far too bright and sunny to report on murder.

  “—another shooting involving the police department,” she said as Kindly Cheng brought the audio online. “A Seattle community organizer and industrial engineer was apparently shot and killed while resisting arrest at Victoria Harbor last night. HKPF report that the UCAS man, Raymond Black, was behaving erratically and would not respond to police orders to surrender.

  “No additional information regarding Black or why he was traveling to Hong Kong is available. Police have stated that due to the proximity to last night’s shootout with the White Star, the investigation of this incident must remain confidential, and no other details are being revealed at this time.”

  I couldn’t speak as Kindly Cheng shut off the comm broadcast. I couldn’t look at Duncan. He’d come a long way and sacrificed so much…for what? Anger burned steadily in me, escalating. Maybe if I hadn’t just come from lockdown after eight years, I wouldn’t have been so quickly hell-bent on making someone pay for this.

  “You were right, Auntie,” I said in a cold voice I almost didn’t recognize. “That was news I didn’t like.”

  “This just keeps getting worse,” Duncan said, and I knew then that he realized he could never go back. Not after being rendered SINless. “Raymond’s dead.” He staggered, and for a moment I thought he was going to go down.

  Is0bel started to reach out for him, but drew her hand back before making contact.

  “Sorry for your loss,” Gobbet said. “I never had a father, so I don’t know what it’s like to lose one…but…sorry.”

  I pushed aside all emotions but the rage fueling me. It had been my constant companion throughout lockdown. I wouldn’t have made it if my anger hadn’t kept me strong, and if I hadn’t learned when to turn it on and when to turn it off.

  “Raymond dies the same night we get ambushed?” I shook my head. “That’s no coincidence.”

  “No fucking way,” Duncan agreed.

  Kindly Cheng tapped her comm again. “I’m afraid that’s not all, my darlings. This is security footage from Victoria Harbour from last night. You’ll find it contains…a contradiction.” She held it out.

  Silent gray sec cam footage from a small tea room played on the screen. I recognized the old man standing in the midst of the table. Armed men and women dressed in black stood around him, holding guns aimed at him. The old man ignored them, gazing down at something he held in one hand. My stomach tightened as I guessed what I was about to watch.

  A guy in an expensive suit and flanked by two armed sec men stepped toward the old man. As the angle shifted slightly, I saw a white plastic mask covering the sharp-dressed man’s face. From the way the two people with the old man moved, I guessed they were guarding him.

  Muzzle flashes filled the screen. One of the old man’s guards went down, his submachine gun spitting death. One of the stray rounds hit the sec cam and the image grayed out.

  “Those weren’t cops,” Duncan growled. “And Raymond wasn’t resisting arrest.”

  “What’s with that guy’s face?” Gobbet scratched one of her rats under its chin. “Is that a mask?”

  “It doesn’t look like a mask,” Is0bel said. “It looks like some sort of semi-rigid plastic implant. Real craftsmanship. Quite the fashion accessory.”

  I hadn’t ever heard of something like that. Of course, things had changed a lot while I’d been away.

  “It’s also the kind of fashion accessory that stands out in a crowd,” Duncan said. “This guy’s either a fool or an arrogant son-of-a-bitch. Either way, I’m gonna find him.”

  “I believe you,” Kindly Cheng said.

  He looked at me, reminding me of all the times he’d done that before. “So what now?”

  And I’d always been the one who was supposed to have the answers.

  I took a breath and considered, but there weren’t many options. “We find out who this Plastic-Faced Man is. Then we get some answers.”

  “With what resources?” Kindly Cheng asked. “I’m afraid there are some hard facts you have to face.” She paused. “You are alone in this country. No network. No money. No identity. I can protect you from the police, but how would you go about discovering what happened to Raymond Black without me? How would you survive? This is a topic that needs serious consideration.”

  I didn’t have any answers for her, and she knew it. So I waited for the other shoe to drop.

  Unexpectedly, she smiled. “You’ve had a long night, my sweets. Very long. And frankly you all look like shit. Rest now. I promise you all safety in my town for the night. We’ll talk about the Plastic-Faced Man and what to do about him tomorrow.”

  She turned to Gobbet and Is0bel. “Ladies, go find our new friends a place to bed down in that rat’s-nest squat-boat you call home. We’ll talk after you’ve slept. Figure out our next steps together.”

  “Yes, Auntie,” Gobbet replied, and Is0bel echoed her.

  “Rat’s-nest squat-boat?” I asked, too curious to simply let it lie.

  “We call it the Bolthole,” Gobbet said with a small smile.

  That made me even more curious.

  Chapter 21

  The Bolthole

  The Bolthole turned out to be a massive rust bucket trawler floating in the harbor. One look at her, and I wasn’t so sure she wasn’t going to sink before morning, which was only a few hours away. Empty crates and barrels littered her deck, and it had probably been decades since she’d hauled any cargo. Still, Hong Kong was an island, and the people in the sprawl lived on anything that could remain above water.

  By whatever miracle.

  I climbed up the ladder on the side, crossed the deck, and entered the hatch Gobbet pointed out to me. Rats descended from her clothing and scampered around with other rats that lived here as well. I didn’t know ho
w she kept them all fed. I was certain that the day she died, no matter where she was, she was going to end up as a rat buffet.

  Belowdecks, I was surprised by how relatively clean and efficient everything was compared to the ship’s exterior. Hardwood floors showed age and use and scarring, but they were also clean and tidy. A large, rounded sofa filled one corner of the space next to a small but complete galley. At the other end of the couch, a computer system sat on a desk against the bulkhead.

  “You two can bunk here for a while,” Gobbet said. You’ve each got a head to take care of your necessaries. Try to knock before you enter someone else’s room, okay?”

  “I know the drill,” Duncan said. Then he turned to me. “Stinks of fish, just like that place on Leary Avenue we squatted at when we were kids. The one with the Aztlán family and their dog.”

  “You hated that dog,” I reminded him.

  “He kept rooting out my food stash. No matter where I hid it, he’d find it and scarf down a week’s worth of grub.” Duncan grew quiet for a moment, and I knew we didn’t have many good memories that didn’t bring the bad back with them. “Still, it was sad what happened to him. And that family. No one should go out that way.” He straightened and his spine cracked. “I think I’ve been up for something like thirty-six hours straight. And this has been one shit-stain of a day. Time to end it.”

  “Anything you need before I leave you to it?” Gobbet asked.

  “How’d you get your hands on this place?” I asked.

  “How do people like us get our hands on anything? We found it.”

  “You found it empty?” Duncan frowned as he looked around. “Somebody abandoned a prime piece of real estate like this?”

  Gobbet shrugged. “Close enough. It was full of BTL junkies when we found it. They were completely wigged out on some multiplayer game…I’m not sure if they ever jacked out. They were completely emaciated, stewing in their own piles of shit. Their eyes had sunk into their skulls. Pretty gruesome stuff.”

  “They racked up a killer score, though,” Is0bel said.

  “True,” Gobbet said. “They had the moves. Should’ve hung an IV while they were playing, though. Turns out, nutrition is important.”

  “So what happened?” I asked. “Did they die?”

  “Nightjar ran ’em out. Not sure what happened to them after that. Anyway, it’s ours now. Auntie Cheng says so.”

  “All but the engine room, you mean,” Is0bel added.

  “Right.” Gobbet nodded. “Everything but that. Auntie rented it out from under us.”

  “That must have pissed you off,” Duncan said.

  “Whatever.” Gobbet shrugged again. “We weren’t using it. As long as our downstairs neighbor keeps to himself, he can have the lower level. Especially if it keeps Auntie Cheng happy. He enters and leaves through that hatch over there, but you won’t see him much.” She pointed to a closed hatch against the bulkhead.

  “So who’s your neighbor?”

  “A rigger from Eastern Europe. Quiet. Keeps to himself. Has a drone he treats like a kid.” Gobbet shook her head. “You won’t have any problems with him. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to bed.”

  “Think I’m going to grab some sack time too,” I said.

  Once I got squared away in my berth, a small but comfortable area, I waited until the ship grew quiet and everyone was probably asleep. Then I got up to give the vessel a once-over. I don’t like sleeping any place where I don’t know the lay of the land.

  I’d showered earlier, taking advantage of the amenities, so I dressed again and took my pistol in hand as I returned to the main room. I scouted out Gobbet and Is0bel’s rooms forward, and I studied the hatch leading down to the rigger who Gobbet said lived in the engine room. But I didn’t go down there. Night wasn’t the best time to invade someone’s home, especially when you didn’t know him.

  I retreated to my berth, put the pistol under my pillow, closed my eyes, and dreamed.

  In the dream, I ran through a patchwork vision of the Walled City that tilted crazily and bled from every surface. I didn’t know what I was running from or toward.

  The thing that stood out most was the menacing figure with the big helmet that featured a pair of horns linked by a semi-circle. I tried to see his face, to find out if he was the Plastic-Faced Man, but I never got close enough to him to know.

  Then I woke up, breathing hard and covered in sweat, while Duncan shook my shoulder.

  “C’mon, get up,” he said. “We gotta go talk to Kindly. The others have already left.” He looked more rested, but the anxiety still shadowed his features.

  “That was one rough night.” I clambered out of bed and felt the cold hardwood floors against my bare feet.

  “I’ve been trying to wake you for a while now. You were thrashing around in your sleep.”

  “Glad you did.” I pulled the pistol from behind the pillow and shoved it into my hip holster. “I was having one hell of a nightmare.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t sleep well either.” He shook his head. “I had a bad dream last night, too.”

  I was interested because I’d never experienced anything like what I’d dreamed last night. I was glad it wasn’t just me. “Really? What was it about?”

  He shrugged. “I never remember my dreams that well. It was probably motion sickness. Not used to sleeping on a boat. I woke up a little while ago and hit the head. Then I came back and woke you.”

  “You doing okay?”

  “I’ll survive.” His fingers gently prodded his skull and he winced in pain. “But, man, nothing’s gone right since we stepped foot in this country.” He looked at me. “I’ll tell you something, though—and this is after a full night’s sleep—I don’t think Raymond’s dead.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked. I knew, though. It was that innocent part of Duncan that he’d refused to let go of, that part that believed Raymond would always be there for him.

  “Think about it. That statement from the cops on the newscast could be fake. Ours was. And that surveillance footage? We never saw Raymond get shot. The camera was hit by stray gunfire.” Duncan looked at me. “Raymond’s alive. I know it.”

  I grinned at him and hoped I wasn’t making a mistake by encouraging him. “You make a good case, Officer Wu.”

  He smiled back. “Shoulda been a detective instead of a head-buster, right?” He shook his head. “God, I feel like I’m twelve years old again—squatting on a trawler. My partner’s gone. Raymond’s gone. Hell, I’m gone—I don’t even have a name anymore. And I can’t even go to sleep and hide from it all without having a nightmare.” He ground his teeth, his tusks shifting from side to side. “What else is gonna be taken from me?”

  I put a hand on his broad shoulder and squeezed. “I’m here, Duncan, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  He stood there for a moment, then checked his watch. “Gobbet and Is0bel left a while ago. We should get going too. See what that triad lady has to say.”

  I nodded and gathered up the rest of my gear. Whatever Kindly Cheng said, I was sure we’d be risking our necks by just listening.

  Chapter 22

  The Executive Council

  Even though it was morning, the mahjong parlor remained about as busy as it had been the night before. Maybe the clientele were all regulars, or maybe all the regulars were sec men in Kindly Cheng’s employ.

  Things were different, though. Today no one was playing. Instead, all of them stared at a bound man kneeling on a plastic dropcloth before the Straw Sandal. He was panicked and in pain. Middle-aged, he wore a good suit—at least, it had been a good suit before getting covered in blood I assumed was his. His brown hair might have been well-styled once, but now it was lank and messy.

  Duncan and I joined Gobbet and Is0bel at the back of the room and stared at the man. I raised my eyebrows at Gobbet, but she shook her head. I waited.

  Kindly Cheng gestured to the kneeling man with one long, immaculate fingernail. He wobbled
toward her, off balance from the shackles and from his injuries. Acetylene torches blazed blue fire on the table beside Kindly Cheng, and a familiar-looking man with a scarred face stood on her other side.

  She looked up at me and smiled. “How did you sleep, my little ones?”

  I poured on the saccharine. “Like a baby, Auntie. I’m still in the afterglow of our tour of the Walled City.”

  “Afterglow? Really?” A surprised smile turned up her lips. “Then you should be delighted to say hello to your old friend, Strangler Bao. He’s here because of you.”

  At her side, Bao nodded but said nothing.

  I decided to wait for her to let me know what part—if any—I was supposed to play in whatever she had going on.

  Bao didn’t move, didn’t shift, but I caught his eye as he glanced at me.

  “Well then,” Kindly Cheng said, “now that the niceties are over, let’s get on to the nasties.” She pointed an accusing finger at the man on the plastic tarp. “Shitbird here is a plainclothes cop. He snuck into the area last night while you were sleeping, hoping to find you and kill you before his competition got to you first.”

  Plainclothes cop? Competition? I suddenly felt like I was back in solitary in lockdown. I had no control over anything that was happening to me. What was this conspiracy all about? What had the old man gotten Duncan and me into?

  “My men found him outside the trawler,” Kindly Cheng continued. “They saw to it that your rest was undisturbed, and that your location remained a mystery.”

  I nodded, and Bao returned it.

  Kindly Cheng fixed her dark gaze on the man at her feet. “Now, shitbird, tell my friends here what you told me.”

  “I…I don’t know anything,” the man said in a panicked voice. “I swear. We just got the orders last night.” He turned and tried to wobble toward me. “Somebody high up wants these two dead. The whole department is in on it. I don’t know anything else.”

  “Someone high up?” Kindly Cheng bent over, hooking a lacquered fingernail under his chin and forcing him to look up at her. “How high?”