Deadly Betrayal: A gripping crime thriller full of mystery and suspense (Detective Jane Phillips Book 4)

by OMJ Ryan

  ‘Stanley?’ said Jones. ‘That’s not very Chinese, is it?’

  Phillips chortled. ‘You do remember this place was ruled by the British for over a hundred years, don’t you?’

  ‘Funnily enough, I seem to remember someone mentioning that today when he was threatening us with a meat cleaver,’ said Jones, his tone facetious.

  The events of the day rushed up on Phillips again and she grabbed the handrail to steady herself.

  ‘You ok, Guv?’

  ‘I’m fine. I just still can’t believe what we saw. It feels like it was a dream that happened to someone else.’

  ‘I know what you mean. I can’t get the image of Wong’s severed head out of my mind, either.’

  ‘Why do we do this to ourselves, Jonesy?’ asked Phillips after a moment of silence.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘The job. Why do we keep doing it? It’s dangerous, depressing…horrifying at times. So why do we continue to put ourselves through it?’

  ‘I’ve been asking myself the same thing a lot lately. I’m coming up on thirteen years in Major Crimes now, and I’m wondering how long I can carry on. It can’t be good for any of us, witnessing the depravity of the world day in day out.’

  ‘My mum wanted me to become a doctor, like my brother,’ said Phillips. ‘I had the grades to do it—in fact, mine were better than Damien’s—but all I ever wanted to be was a copper like my dad. Nothing else ever entered my mind. But as time’s gone on, I do wonder what life would have been like if I’d chosen that route instead of this. Maybe I could have had a husband, a family even?’

  ‘There’s still time,’ said Jones.

  ‘Pah,’ scoffed Phillips. ‘I’m not sure there’s a man out there crazy enough to take me on.’

  ‘What about Lawry? He seems to like you.’

  ‘Dan?’ Phillips recoiled. ‘Dan would love a fumble in the hay for old time’s sake, but it’d never be anything more than that. Plus, as good-looking as he is, I can’t imagine being with him physically again. It’d just be too weird.’

  ‘Me and Sarah haven’t slept together for a very long time.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Phillips.

  There was deep sadness in Jones’s eyes. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I was never Don Juan or anything, but since the kids, it just kind of stopped. Then, over time, the job got in the way and I was never at home. I kept telling myself the victims and their families needed me, but I think I was running away.’

  ‘What from?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Jones, ‘but whatever it is, I think I’m still running.’

  Phillips placed a reassuring hand on Jones’s shoulder. ‘Even more reason for you to take some time off when we get home.’

  Jones let out a loud sigh. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

  Silence filled the air for a long moment as they stared out across the forests.

  Finally, Phillips spoke. ‘So, do you wanna get another drink or call it a night?’

  Jones looked at his watch. ‘No point going back to the hotel. The TV’s shit and I can’t sleep.’

  ‘Soho it is, then,’ said Phillips. ‘I’ll take you for a ride on the world’s longest escalator.’

  ‘The world’s longest what?’

  ‘Escalator. The bloody thing’s massive and runs through the middle of the city.’

  ‘Sounds exciting,’ joked Jones.

  ‘Well, there’s pubs and bars all the way along it,’ said Phillips.

  Jones cracked a wry smile. ‘Sounds perfect!’

  26

  The next morning, after another night of fitful sleep, Phillips made her way down to the lobby to check out. The smiling receptionist ran through what must have been her usual repertoire for departing guests. Phillips nodded and smiled along with the conversation without paying much attention.

  Before going to bed, Jones had agreed to meet her in the lobby at 10 a.m., but was yet to show at 10.10 a.m. She wondered if he had finally got a proper night’s sleep, and maybe even slept in.

  ‘Will you be checking your bags in at the downtown terminal, madam?’ asked the receptionist. The question drew Phillips’s attention.

  ‘Er, yes,’ said Phillips.

  Just then, the lift doors pinged open and Jones appeared, pulling his suitcase as he strode towards reception.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, Guv.’ I forgot to charge my phone last night, so my alarm didn’t go off.’

  ‘No worries. I’ve taken care of the bill,’ said Phillips. ‘Come on, there’s a taxi waiting for us outside.’

  Fifteen minutes later, they stepped out of the taxi at Hong Kong Airport Express train station near the central harbour and made their way inside to the British Airways check-in. Soon, with their bags safely en route to the airport, Phillips handed Jones his boarding card.

  He grabbed at it excitedly, and then his face fell. ‘This says Economy.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘But we flew out in Business?’

  Phillips nodded. ‘That was an upgrade. These are the seats we actually booked. It’s very rare you’ll get an upgrade both ways, Jonesy.’

  ‘Will we still get champagne, though?’

  ‘Of course…’ said Phillips.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘…as long you pay for it, yeah.’

  Jones’s shoulders sagged and he looked like a dejected child.

  ‘Sorry, Jonesy.’ Phillips said she ushered him towards the trains. ‘Look, to make it up to you, I’ll buy you a beer in Departures, how does that sound?’

  The journey to Hong Kong International Airport took just over thirty minutes, passing through a number of suburbs such as Lai Chi Kok, Tsing Yi, and Ma Wan, as well as stopping at Disneyland Hong Kong.

  As they alighted at the airport, Phillips said, ‘This efficiency is one of the things I miss about this place compared to home. Everything is so bloody easy.’

  Jones nodded, but seemed less impressed.

  Thirty minutes later, having passed through security and passport control, they made their way into the airport’s sports bar. Jones was put in charge of drinks, while Phillips headed for the gift shop to buy a last-minute present for her niece, Grace. When she finally re-appeared with her shopping in hand, she found Jones sitting at a table with an already empty glass and a face like thunder.

  ‘What’s up? Expensive round, was it?’ Phillips joked as she placed her bags on the floor against the table legs.

  Jones’s face remained locked in anger, nostrils flared, breathing heavy.

  Phillips took a seat. There was clearly something wrong. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve just plugged my phone in to charge, and found this.’ Jones pushed the handset across the table.

  Phillips picked it up and read the open text message.

  Hi you. I’ve tried calling but can’t get through. I’ve decided to take the kids to my mum’s for a week or so. It’ll give us both time to think about what we want. Please don’t be angry. It’s for the best. Sarah. X

  ‘Oh Jesus. I’m so sorry, Jonesy,’ said Phillips.

  ‘So much for me taking time off to sort things out with her.’

  ‘Did she know that’s what you were going to do?’

  ‘No. I wanted to surprise her,’ said Jones. ‘Take her and the kids away. That’s all gone to shit now.’

  ‘Why don’t you try calling her, tell her your plans?’

  ‘She’s already gone. She sent that message before she left last night.’

  ‘I really am sorry,’ said Phillips.

  ‘So am I,’ said Jones as he stood. ‘And I need another drink.’

  27

  After yet another fitful night’s sleep in her own bed, Phillips woke at 4 a.m. The jet lag showed no signs of abating, so she took a long hot bath before heading downstairs for her first coffee of the day. Taking a seat at the breakfast bar, she opened her laptop and scanned her email account. In just a few days, she had amassed over three hundred unread messages. She contemplated power
ing through them to get them out of the way, but curiosity got the better of her and, instead, she began to search Google for any updates on the hunt for the men responsible for Jimmy Wong’s murder. To her surprise, she could find zero information. Surely a beheading in broad daylight deserved a mention in the news, somewhere? Evidently not in Hong Kong, she thought, and wondered whether Triad influence on the news outlets was in play.

  Draining her mug of coffee, she made her way upstairs and dressed ready for the day ahead. Even though the time had just passed 6 a.m., she decided there was nothing to be gained from sitting around the house any longer and made her way out to the car.

  Thirty minutes later, she unlocked the door to her office at Ashton House Police HQ and switched on the light. It felt good to be back in the safety and security of familiar surroundings, and as she dropped heavily into her high-backed leather chair, she took a moment to appreciate the space.

  For the next couple of hours, Phillips worked her way through her inbox, realising, to her immense frustration, that almost none of the messages offered any information that was remotely helpful to any of her open cases. People love to cover their arses with a paper trail, she thought to herself.

  Finally, with all her paperwork squared away, her attention was drawn to Bovalino and Entwistle as they walked into the squad room. Phillips waved them in.

  ‘Hiya, Guv,’ said Entwistle.

  ‘Guv,’ added Bovalino.

  ‘Have you seen Jones?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘You didn’t leave him over there did you?’ joked Bovalino.

  ‘Almost very nearly, yeah,’ said Phillips.

  Entwistle and Bovalino both laughed, but stopped when Phillips didn’t join in. Her face was stern.

  ‘Are you being serious, Guv?’ asked Bovalino.

  Just then, Phillips’s desk phone rang.

  ‘I’d better get it. This is Phillips,’ she said as she picked up the receiver.

  ‘DCI Phillips. Ms Blair. Chief Superintendent Fox will see you now.’

  ‘Brilliant. I’m on my way.’ Phillips replaced the handset and stood. ‘Look, it got a bit hairy over there. I’ll explain when I get back from Fox’s office, but for the time being, will one of you give Jonesy a call and check he’s all right? If his jet lag’s as bad as mine, I’d have expected him to be in by now.’

  Bovalino nodded before Phillips brushed passed him and made her way towards Fox’s fifth-floor office.

  The door was open when Phillips arrived, with Ms Blair stood in the doorway, listening intently to Fox’s instructions. With her task list complete, she turned, coming face to face with Phillips.

  ‘You can go in,’ said Blair without feeling as she made her way back to her desk.

  Fox was already in her seat behind her expansive desk when Phillips entered. ‘Sit down,’ she said, sounding more than a little agitated.

  Phillips followed the instruction and took a deep breath.

  ‘Well, that was a total waste of tax-payers money, wasn’t it?’

  Phillips opened her mouth to respond, but Fox had other ideas.

  ‘You were sent there to arrest Wong, not hand him over to his killers!’

  Phillips found her voice now. ‘With respect, Ma’am, Senior Inspector Li led us to that location and insisted the arrest was his, not ours. From what my sources in Hong Kong told me, some senior officers in the Royal Hong Kong Police are on the Triad payroll. For all we know, Li could have set us up.’

  Fox glared at Phillips for a long moment, her top lip curled up into a snarl, before she exhaled loudly. ‘Not exactly the result I asked for, is it?’

  ‘No, Ma’am, it’s not, but I’m now convinced Wong was working with someone else when he killed Carpenter.’

  ‘You mean this Zhang Shing fellow?’ said Fox, clearly recalling the details of the debrief.

  ‘Him, yes, but I also think Lui Genji and the Gold Star Trading Corporation are somehow involved her death. It’s just too much of a coincidence that Gold Star was hoping to announce a £700-million two-tower development opportunity in Manchester at the same time Carpenter was trying to block one being built. Surely they’re connected?’

  Fox sat forwards and linked the fingers of her hands on the desk. ‘Say they are connected, how do you prove it?’

  Phillips shook her head. ‘That’s just it. I don’t know if I can. The woman was untouchable in Hong Kong, so I doubt there’s anything I can do from here.’

  ‘Well, that leaves you with Shing, doesn’t it? So, what do you know about him?’

  ‘At the moment, nothing much other than what I was told by my contacts on the Island. However, Entwistle and Bovalino have been looking into him whilst I’ve been away. I’m expecting a full debrief straight after this.’

  Fox nodded. ‘Well, he looks your most likely lead. I’d suggest you focus on him for now. You never know; if he is involved along with Genji, he may well put all the pieces together for you.’

  ‘I’m never that lucky, Ma’am.’

  Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘Based on what happened to Wong and didn’t happen to you, I’d say you were very lucky, Jane.’

  Phillips had to admit Fox had a point.

  ‘On that, has what you saw affected you?’

  Phillips considered the question for a long moment. ‘Well, yes, I guess so, but nothing that I can’t handle.’

  ‘And how about Jones?’

  Phillips knew better than to open up her team to additional scrutiny from Fox. Nothing good would ever come from it. ‘Like me, he was a little shaken up, but he’s ok now.’

  Fox’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure? I can’t have officers having mental breakdowns on the job.’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am. I’m quite sure,’ said Phillips, not willing to give an inch.

  Fox exhaled loudly. ‘Very well. In that case, you’d better see what Shing has to say for himself, and quickly. The final interviews for the Chief Constable’s job are happening next week, and it’s of the utmost importance that I have positive progress on this case by then.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Good,’ said Fox firmly. ‘Off you go then.’

  Phillips didn’t need any further encouragement. She was desperate to get back downstairs and find out what Bovalino and Entwistle had dug up whilst she’d been away.

  28

  By the time Phillips made it back to the squad room, Jones had appeared and was at his desk, holding court with Bovalino and Entwistle. All three turned to face her as she strode towards them. ‘Been filling you in, has he?’ said Phillips.

  ‘He has,’ said Bovalino. ‘Sounds bloody terrifying, Guv.’

  Phillips sat down at the spare desk and blew through her lips. ‘I really thought he was dead at one point, and that I was next.’

  Entwistle leant forwards on his desk. ‘Any ideas who was behind Wong’s execution?’

  ‘Not a clue. I had a good look online this morning, but found nothing. Not a single mention, which just seems odd to me.’

  ‘I can have a look if you like?’ said Entwistle.

  ‘Yeah. You might have more luck than me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the Triads have ensured the story has been buried. They seem to be one step ahead of everyone over there.’

  Entwistle made a note in his pad.

  ‘So, how about Zhang Shing? What have you found on him?’ said Phillips.

  Bovalino passed across a Manila file. ‘It’s pretty thin, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You’re not kidding, are you?’ said Phillips as she opened it. ‘Two pages?’

  Bovalino shrugged. ‘That’s all we could find.’

  Entwistle cut in. ‘Before he arrived in the UK, he’s a virtual ghost. There’s nothing on him anywhere. Maybe your contact at the Royal Hong Kong Police could offer more information?’

  ‘Based on what we experienced over there, I very much doubt it,’ said Phillips. ‘And besides, I’m not entirely sure I trust Inspector Li.’

  ‘What? Do you think he’s be
nt?’ said Entwistle.

  ‘I can’t make my mind up on that one, but if he’s not, then I’m confident he’s taking orders from somebody that is. Either way, if we want to say ahead of Zhang Shing, we’re best off keeping Li out of it.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Entwistle said as Phillips began reading through the brief notes.

  Bovalino narrated what she was looking at. ‘Zhang Shing arrived in the country just under six months ago. According to his visa paperwork, he is being sponsored by the Red Dragon Trading Company.’

  ‘Which is the same company Wong worked for?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the one.’ Bovalino continued, ‘He’s the general manager of the Belmont casinos, which Red Dragon acquired at the beginning of the year for a nominal fee. The chain was going bust, so it helped them avoid administration. Shing is spearheading an overhaul of operations, and Wong was part of his security team.’

  ‘So, where does Shing live?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘He has an apartment in the Sky Tower on Deansgate,’ said Bovalino.

  ‘All right for some,’ said Jones.

  Bovalino grinned.

  ‘What about his personal life? Any family with him, a wife or kids?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Nobody,’ said Bovalino. ‘He’s a lone operator, this guy.’

  Phillips stared down at a copy of Shing’s passport photo. His black, soulless eyes appeared to stare straight back at her. ‘My contacts in Hong Kong said he’s a nasty piece of work; that far from being a businessman, he’s actually an assassin for the Lui Triad family and he’s been sent here to keep him out of the reach of the mainland Chinese police.’

  Bovalino recoiled. ‘An assassin? Seriously?’

  Phillips nodded. ‘Yeah. Rumour has it he killed a government official who was bad-mouthing the Triads. Cut his head off with a cleaver.’