by Clive Hindle
That wasn't very helpful because he'd intended doing the exact opposite, just levelling with his old friend and getting some much needed help. He was perplexed as he left the hotel room. He’d lost confidence in the meeting for reasons he couldn’t quite comprehend.
Diana didn't want to go with him to see Graham. She said she was tired and wanted a bath. After he left she had the bath then she read for a while and watched the television. When she heard the knock on the door she got up with a sense of relief and went to open it. She peered through the peephole and was surprised to see a smartly dressed Chinese man there. Thinking it was one of the hotel staff she opened the door on the chain.
"Hi," the man said, "I'm the housekeeping manager, ma'am. I conducting a survey of our guests. I wonder if you spare me a few moments of your time. I spoke to Mr. Lauder down in lobby and he in a hurry but said you not mind. We know him well here. He is honoured guest."
Diana shrugged. Jack seemed to know a whole host of people in the most out of the way places. She unclipped the chain, "Sure. Come in.”
The words were scarcely out of her mouth when the door was slammed open by the force of three men who appeared from nowhere. She was flung back into the room and they piled in after her.
The urbane man who had pretended to be a hotel employee strutted in behind them, casting an eye around the room. Meanwhile two of his cohorts had Diana pinned down in an armchair while the third searched the room. The third, she noticed, was Tall Man Hung. His presence here didn’t bode well. She knew him well enough as a fellow employee of her former boss to be aware of his reputation. He was wearing a dark suit and dark glasses. She shivered, under no illusions about the danger he posed. "Come on, my dear, where is it?" the first man said.
"Where's what?"
"The stuff Mr. Montro left with Mr. Jack. You know what I talk about. What I've heard suggests you are clever lady, so I sure good old Mr. Jack tell you everything."
"I don't know anything about Jack’s business.”
"Tut, tut tut, that not very good!” He headed over towards the bedroom and looked round the door. "This where action is?” He cocked his head. “So why not just tell us and we go away and leave you alone. Fair trade?" He looked at Diana out of dark, soulful eyes. "You see him?" and he indicated Tall Man Hung who'd returned from scanning through the contents of the bathroom. Hung shook his head at the man as if to indicate that he had found nothing. He grinned and came up to her. He made a throat-cutting gesture and then touched her neck. Diana pulled away from him in revulsion.
"Oh yes," the man continued, "he an artist, Tall Man Hung. He ex Red Guard. But you know that, eh? He seen a lot of nasty thing in his time and he like it. He go across to Macao to have white woman. He like white woman. Their flesh remind him of sweet fat pork." He traced his hand down her creamy tanned arm and then pinched a little of the skin, making her grimace. He left the next part unspoken but it was obvious that he thought Diana should figure on Tall Man Hung's menu and as if to confirm his agreement the tall man started to strip off his jacket as if he intended to get to work. Diana stared at the tall Chinese, wondering just what, precisely, he intended to do next, and the first man nodded a curt signal and one of the others jabbed a hypodermic into her arm.
She let out a piercing scream but it was strangled almost as soon as it escaped from her mouth. As her senses slipped into another dimension, one in which she was awake but dreaming, she heard the first man say in Cantonese, the only time since he had entered her room that he had spoken in his own language, "Hold her up. We've got to get her past the Security Guard." It was peculiar that she could feel nothing but she could still move; she could observe but she couldn’t speak; her mind was a blank even though she knew deep down inside that something terrible was happening. Most of all she just wanted to sleep but she couldn’t get there, couldn’t ever get past that threshold.
CHAPTER 2
Jack walked to ICAC Headquarters. The early warning typhoon signal was up again at the Royal Navy Base and the air was close. Another storm was heading from Taiwan towards the China coast, scheduled to make landfall in the vicinity of Macao but if it backed a couple of degrees a direct hit on Hong Kong was on the cards. Even if the eye did not strike the ball of bad weather around the iris would bring the Crown Colony to a halt.
When he reached ICAC HQ he found Graham friendly enough except he noticed that his old friend seemed to be in a bit of a hurry. From time to time he would look quickly down at his sleeve as if checking the time. He yawned once or twice and there were black shadows under his eyes as if he'd endured many a sleepless night. "Well, sport," he said, "I'll bet you didn't come and see me just to chew over old times again, eh? You came to tell me about your adventures in Russia, didn't you?" He was scrutinising Jack, who remembered Diana’s warning. He had to watch everything he said.
"Nothing much to tell," Jack replied, "Gerry got killed by the mob because he was interfering with their business. He stepped over the line. I guess they needed to show everybody who was boss."
Graham shook his head. "It's a big thing to do something like that to a foreign national, though," he said, "he must have been in some heavy shit." He was still staring hard at Jack, making him feel uncomfortable.
"I don't think so," Jack replied, "life's cheap out there, the mob rules. He's got a lot of money in his pocket. He's put himself on the line for a woman they buy and sell like cattle. He’s risked his life for a cow, that’s the way they see it. What do they care about him? They probably thought he was another gangster, figured that's how he got the money. People tend to judge other people by their own standards. They wouldn't expect anyone to miss him because no one would miss them if it happened in reverse. It's a tough life."
Graham was shaking his head, staring at Jack through his gold-rimmed spectacles and he suddenly realised how tough his friend had become, how hard-bitten. He remembered earlier, more carefree times, and he wondered what happened to people to destroy all their dreams. "You're not levelling with me Jack, come on, let's have the truth now. What did you find out?"
Graham might be the best friend he had in this place but he was a government man when all was said and done. But was that so bad? Wasn’t it all the more reason to confide in him, wash his hands of all this intrigue and let the government get on with it? And anyway, whose side was Jack on? Why not give them what they wanted? It was Diana's warning that came back to him then. "Play your cards close," she'd advised. He decided to trust her judgement. "Don't know what you mean," he replied affably, "That's it. I never got a chance to talk to him, he was dead when I got there. The Police knew nothing about him." He shrugged.
Graham’s eyes narrowed, "And what about what he owed you?"
"Blown.” It was odd but he had the feeling that maybe Graham knew what had happened. About Chernenko and the raid on the dacha. How he might know was a puzzle but it was a sixth sense. He figured the Police Chief wouldn’t be boasting about his part in those events and it would all get hushed up, but people in Graham’s position had a habit of getting to know everything, official or unofficial. If that was the case he might at least suspect that Jack had got his money back. If he knew all that, he’d know Jack was lying through his teeth. He felt a tremor run down his spine but did his best to hide it beneath a show of bonhomie.
Graham sat for an age, gazing at him, but he didn't take the conversation any further. "Just give me a mo," he said, and he stood up and walked out of the room. He was gone for a few minutes and then he returned, stifling a yawn. When he came back he was full of bonhomie, totally changed.
“So what happened to you, your nag come in at Happy Valley?” Jack joked, recalling that his old friend had always been a Jockey Club afficianado.
“Oh better than that,” Graham replied, and he rubbed his hands together in the way Jack remembered he had always done when he was excited about something, a trial was going well, he had the upper hand.
Why did he have the impression that it was over him
that he had the upper hand? That was crazy; they were on the same side ultimately. But Diana’s warning returned to him, the one about keeping his friends close and his enemies closer or something like that. "So how's tricks?" Jack asked him, trying to make conversation.
Graham laughed and it sounded cynical, "Things'd be just tucker if it weren't for the pro-democracy bunch," he said. "They're making my life a misery, demanding the reopening of this and that file, accusing me of cover-ups. Jeez!"
Jack could see he had a lot on his mind and perhaps he'd been unkind to suspect his motives, so he left after an hour without mentioning Gerry's box. He headed back the short distance to the Mandarin, the humidity making him feel clammy and uncomfortable. He made a point of saying hello to the Indian porter who acknowledged his greeting with a friendly wave, then, out of the blue, the man added, "If you looking for missy sir, she left with friends short time ago."
"What?" Jack replied, "What do you mean, she left?"
"Oh yes sir, nice friends come for her. They spend some time together, your missy and friends, then they all come down and go off. Oh yes, sir, they all arm in arm."
She must have got bored he thought and gone out. So much for him saying stick in the hotel and keep the door locked! He might have known she'd do exactly as she pleased. What’s more, her friends must be people who knew her and that tosser, Goff. What was she doing with him? The old resentments were resurfacing and he thought, must get a grip on that. But the truth was he just didn’t know where he was with this woman, whether she loved him or not, or if he wasn’t just the next port in a storm.
He took the lift up to the room expecting to find a note telling him where they'd kicked on to. The first thing he noticed was there’d been a bit of a shindig. Not a big one, it didn't look like any violence had taken place, but the armchair had been moved back to the wall. He tut-tutted as he moved it back into place, covering over the score marks. There was no note. He looked in the bathroom and there was nothing amiss, likewise the bedroom. He rang down to the management to see if there were any messages. There weren't.
He decided just to wait. He turned on the television and caught the local news. There was an item about demands made by the local Pro-Democracy Party in the Legislative Council for the reopening of certain anti-corruption files, which brought back to memory his conversation with Graham. It was alleged the Hong Kong Government had some hidden agenda with the Chinese to prosecute certain figures who'd escaped conviction under British rule. This kind of double jeopardy was anti-democratic and a breach of the Basic Law, the guarantee of no disturbance of the political and legal systems for a minimum of fifty years after the handover. The point was the Pro-Democrats wanted the files opened now so that any future action by the Chinese could be scrutinised. It was the sort of politics Jack wasn't interested in. Who really gave a sod for the miserable skins of a few corrupt civil servants or colonial entrepreneurs? He knew it was all window dressing, aimed at causing the maximum embarrassment possible to the Governor for the sake of a few cheap political points.
It was then the picture of Philip Chan flashed up on screen. Jack’s adversary in the Ma trial was now the Leader of the Pro-Democracy Party and a thorn in the side of the Communist Chinese who had got their hirelings in power before the handover but hadn‘t totally eradicated the opposition. Jack had heard rumours back home that Philip was on a hit list but that’s the kind of thing you take with a pinch of salt. There are conspiracy theories everywhere if you want to look for them. The whole world is one big conspiracy if you listen to some of the propaganda. Still, he settled back to watch. He was interested in anything Philip did. He had enormous respect for him. Watching his almost birdlike movements and listening to his precise, clipped tones, his memory was stirred. He hadn't changed a bit. One of the most able lawyers Jack had ever crossed swords with, they’d done a few major cases on opposite sides, but it had been the Ma case in which Jack had earned Philip’s respect for the integrity of his actions. Prior to that Philip had taken a cynical view of the Attorney-General’s department, seeing it as the lackey of a corrupt police force.
The most popular politician in Hong Kong was as fiercely anti-Colonial as ever and he had severely criticised the British regime for its cowardice in the face of pressure from Beijing and its concern for British trading interests at the expense of the Hong Kong people. He saw the handover as the continuation of colonial rule, even though the territory was indisputably Chinese. He felt that Hong Kong should be its own separate state as Singapore was but that was geographically unrealistic, a pipe dream. He was as bitter in his opposition to the Beijing administration as he had been to the British and he was notorious for depicting the handover as the last great betrayal by the British in Hong Kong.
When the programme finished Jack sat back in the armchair and poured a large gin and tonic. He was lost in the recollection of those days. One thing turned to another and very quickly he fell into a slumber while he waited for Diana to return. He didn't know how long he’d slept but he woke with a start. The evening was drawing on. There was still no word from her. Then he realised how complacent he’d been. How could he have been so stupid? He’d taken his eye off the ball and he suddenly had a strong sense of foreboding. He left the room and took the lift, caught up with the porter again and asked him to describe the people Diana had left with. He looked puzzled but thought hard and remembered the smartly dressed Chinese men. They'd walked to a car parked just over the road and driven off together; she very fair, he remembered, against their dark, expensive suits.
Jack feared the worst now. Dazed, he returned to the room. Walking like a zombie, unable to concentrate and think of a coherent plan, he thought about who in Hong Kong he could ring. Graham was the obvious choice but there was something peculiar about the way he was behaving. Mr. Ma was another and Jack tried his business number but there was only an answering service. He’d forgotten to get his home telephone number and didn’t know his home address.
The television was still on. His eyes drifted back to it and Philip was on the news again. Plans were afoot for a massive demonstration of all pro-democracy supporters this coming Saturday. There was going to be a great rally down in the Square in front of the Legco building. On an impulse Jack got the telephone number of Legco from the hotel reception. There was just a chance that someone like Philip would still be working. It was getting close to the elections now. He’d be putting in every extra hour. How he’d react to a call from Jack, let alone to the problem he was going to confront him with, was a moot point. The phone was answered by the Legco reception and yes, Philip was still in the building at a late committee meeting. There was no way he could be disturbed. The best the receptionist would do was ensure a message was sent up to him and she suggested that if the errand was so urgent Jack should make his way down there immediately. Giving the Mandarin as his Hong Kong address cut through the red tape. Jack hastily scribbled a note for Diana in case he proved mistaken and then he rushed down to the lobby and climbed swiftly into a taxi. He was glad of it. The weather had noticeably worsened in the last few hours. The wind had got up and brought with it a slanting rain.
CHAPTER 3
A ride of ten minutes took him to the Legco building where he headed up the steps, presenting himself at the reception desk. He was directed to the tenth floor where there was another reception area. Sitting down on a settee he flicked through the South China Morning Post. He couldn’t concentrate and after a wait of about half an hour a man came out of the room marked Committee Room 4 and started to walk down the corridor. Jack recognised him instantly. Embarrassed about approaching him like this he swallowed hard, it was now or never. He stepped into Philip Chan’s path. “Philip!” he said, holding out his hand.
Philip looked at him without recognition for a moment and then his fine, triangular features broke into a wide smile and he returned Jack’s handshake. “Jack Lauder!” he exclaimed, “What brings you here? Back to your old stamping ground?”
&n
bsp; Jack smiled because his old colleague, despite being Chinese through and through, was fond of English idiom and spoke the language to a perfection which is often the preserve of well-educated non-native speakers. “Did you get my message?” he asked anxiously.
“I got a message,” Philip replied with an ironic grin, “but I hadn’t an inkling it was from you.” He rummaged in his pocket, took out a piece of paper and showed Jack the message. He had to laugh. The receptionist had elevated him to the peerage. He was now Lord Jackson. “I wondered who on earth you were,” Philip said laughing. “I thought it was yet another English diplomat come to lobby about something or other on behalf of some grandee here!”
“Instead of which you got me, just about the diametric opposite.”
“Well, one has to be grateful for small mercies,” Philip’s eyes twinkled, “Is this just a social call, are you here for long? Perhaps we could take tea together?”
Jack became serious and, as briefly as possible, outlined his situation. Philip was astonished when Jack told him of Gerry’s death and when he got to the bit about Diana’s disappearance, the venerable brow knitted and he began to question Jack closely. “Why do you fear she has been kidnapped?”
“I don’t know, it’s just that, ever since I came here, everybody seems to think Gerry left something with me before he died.” He backtracked a little and told Philip what had happened to him immediately before leaving the UK
