“You mean you've been with him since lunchtime?”
“Just a little male bonding.”
“How is it you're still sober?”
“I've been putting in a lot of training in the last year. Anyway, 'sober' is a big exaggeration.”
Lacey put the car into gear and drove away.
***
McReadie lived in Stanley, a leafy and upmarket residential area on the south side of the island. She helped Keelan carry him through the lobby of his apartment building and into the elevator.
“How well do you get on with your aunt?” he asked her.
“Not great.”
“Let me take the heat then. I don't have to talk nice to her every Christmas.”
He dragged McReadie down the hall, leaving her by the elevators. Keelan had to knock three times before an angry-looking woman in a dressing gown opened the door. Keelan muttered a few words of apology as McReadie staggered inside. Then the door slammed again.
He and Lacey got back in the lift.
“Where to now?” she said.
“It's all right. I'll take a taxi.”
“Oh, please,” Lacey said. “It's almost half past two. I'm up now. Where do you need to go?”
“Causeway Bay.”
“It's on the way,” she lied.
They drove in silence. From the corner of her eye she saw him toying with the plain gold band on the third finger of his left hand. “I suppose you can't do this sort of thing back home.”
“I do pretty much what I please.”
“Sure. What would your wife say if she heard you say that?”
“She wouldn't say anything.”
“Great wife.” Lacey wondered why she was baiting him. Something about him gnawed at her, the way he could be with people and yet behave as if he was alone. She thought he was arrogant and rude and she was looking for an excuse to tell him so.
“The best wife a man ever had,” Keelan said.
“She'd have to be.”
He didn't respond. He turned back to the window and watched the rain mist the window, blurring the corridors of neon. At this time of the morning there was just a few taxis and private cars moving on the street.
“Tell me the truth. How is it McReadie's so drunk and you're not? Did you spike his drink?”
He turned and looked at her for a long time. “What did you say?”
“Didn't you hear me?”
“I was ... I was thinking about something else.”
“Sorry I'm such boring company for you.”
“You didn't have to do this. I was happy to catch a cab.”
Lacey shook her head and concentrated on the road. They passed the Tai Tam reservoir in the darkness, reached Chai Wan and turned on to the Eastern Corridor.
“Where do you live?”
“Harbour View apartments. Causeway Bay. Do you know it?”
“I did a case there.”
“Yeah?”
“Homicide. An ex-pat. Killed his wife, chopped her up and tried to flush her body down the lavatory a bit at a time.”
“Which apartment?”
“Isn't it better not to know?”
“I was wondering because I'm having a little trouble with the plumbing.”
She looked around, tried to fathom his expression in the dashboard light. Hard to tell if he was joking. A few minutes later she pulled over in front of the apartments on Gloucester Road. “Hey, thanks,” he said.
“Just looking after the family.”
“If I have to get the plumber in, I'll let you know.”
“Case is closed.” She drove away, clashing the second gear.
Chapter 17
Lacey arrived at Police Headquarters at eight thirty the next morning. She and Tyler had an eight-forty-five appointment with the assistant commissioner to discuss the Li kam-chuen case. As she was a few minutes early she got off the elevator on the tenth floor and headed down to McReadie's office in Narcotics.
She was surprised to find him there this early; he was sorting through a sheaf of faxes that had come in during the night. His powers of recuperation were astonishing. He looked a little tired, but cheerful.
“Hi, Lace.” He raised an eyebrow. “You look peaky. Big night last night?”
“Didn't sleep very well,” she said. “How about you?”
“Like a baby. Few drinks with your friend Keelan then an early night.”
“How's Auntie Rose?”
“Fine. Don't think she even heard me get in. I was discreet.”
“Great.”
“That Keelan's an interesting man once you get to know him.”
“Is he?”
“Yeah.” And then he added: “I think he likes you.”
“Fantastic.” She turned for the door. “By the way, I know he's a Lieutenant in the DEA but is he on drugs?”
“No, you're thinking of the CIA.”
“I have a three year old niece in England with a longer attention span.”
“He's not everything he seems. Must tell you about him some time.”
“I can't wait.”
“You know, Lace,” he called after her, 'you should get out more often. Enjoy yourself more.”
“Yes, Dad,” she called back. She got back in the elevator and joined Tyler outside the assistant commissioner's office.
Chapter 18
The Sze Hoi restaurant was perched on the roof of the Austin Commercial Building, overlooking the red and gold neon of Nathan Road and the dark shadow of Kowloon Park. There were several large square rooms, lit by chandeliers. It looked like a French casino. The restaurant was crowded, and there was a queue of people waiting. Like every popular Chinese place the noise was deafening, waiters shouting as they scurried in and out of the kitchens, small children running between the tables, the clatter of plates.
A spiral staircase, roped off with a red velvet cord, led to an upper floor. It was a banqueting hall, similar to the one below, but the lights were muted and the room was empty except for a single table. It allowed the owner of the Sze Hoi , Eddie Lau, to enjoy a private dinner with Ruby Wen and two of his close associates, Vincent Tse and Won Ton.
Vincent Tse was very thin and very tall. His nickname was Chopstick. He had a smooth well-sculpted face and elegantly styled hair. He wore a brown tweed Armani suit jacket over a soft cashmere turtleneck, and a Patek Phillippe wristwatch with a slim gold band on his wrist. Vincent was all that he appeared to be - an accountant. In a formally structured triad he would have been White Paper Fan, for that was the function he performed for Eddie Lau, financial counsellor and business manager. His other nickname was Abacus; the Human Calculator.
It was not difficult to understand why Tak kam-chau had been nicknamed Won Ton. A large man, all his weight seemed to have been distributed around his belly and his hips, so that he did indeed look like a dumpling.
He, too, was immaculately turned out; black crocodile skin loafers with white socks, grey trousers, a black silk shirt and a canary yellow blazer with a black paisley pattern.
A waiter hurried from the kitchen carrying one of the restaurant's specialties, Monk Jumping Over the Wall, a fragrant blending of abalone, chicken, ham, mushrooms and herbs; legend had it that a monk once broke his vows of vegetarianism and leaped the high wall of his monastery after sniffing the aroma coming from the adjoining street.
As they ate, Eddie kept up a monologue, discussing his latest passion, the East Wind, a pleasure junk he had just had bought from an executive at Jardine's who was returning to England. He was having it refitted at a cost of over one million Hong Kong dollars. He planned stripped to strip the salon and refurnish it in polished walnut and leather.
As he talked, Ruby and the other two men maintained an uneasy silence. She could almost feel the enmity coming from them in waves.
After the meal the waiter brought a bottle of Courvoisier and Eddie dismissed him with a nod. They were alone in the cavernous restaurant, the riotous noise from downstairs in
counterpoint to the restrained gloom of the banqueting hall.
“So what are the whispers on the wind?” he said to Ruby.
“Someone give your name to the DEA in Bangkok,” she said.
“Who?”
“Do not know. Maybe Louis Huu.”
“Has to be Louis Huu,” Vincent said.
“Everyone is watching you now, tai lo,” Ruby said, using the triad honorific, 'we must be very cautious.”
Eddie lit a cigarette, his foot tapping in irritation at this new setback. Louis Huu was his supplier in Bangkok, son of one of the major chiu chao dealers in Thailand. He had been buying morphine base and number four from him in small quantities for almost a year. But he had refused to pay for this latest consignment. He was not going to pay for anything he did not receive.
“He thinks you are cheating him,” Vincent said, his voice flat.
Eddie nodded. “Lose my heroin, now lose my connection in Bangkok. Now I have DEA sniffing at my rump like a dog.” He kept his gaze fixed on Ruby. “Ruby thinks she knows who steals our powder.”
Vincent and Won Ton looked at her.
“Last week is a big explosion in Kwun Tong estate. Four men dead. One of them is Martin Fong, a Sun Yee On cook.” Like all good lies, Ruby thought, it had its basis in truth. Martin Fong was Sun Yee On. Could not use one of their own people to betray Eddie.
Won Ton slapped his fist into his palm. “It is time we put our horses on the street to settle this.”
Eddie looked at Vincent, who shook his head. “I want more proof before we start a war with the Sun Yee On.”
“What more proof do you want?” Won Ton looked frustrated. Everyone knew Vincent Tse was a tail-wagger and had no ginger for men's work.
Eddie put an arm around Vincent's neck. “Look after the profits, Ah Chau,” he said, using his familiar name. “Let me look after the wars. The Ox has been spoiling for a fight for months. All this makes sense. First he steals our number four, then tries to make a war between me and Louis Huu.”
“But we can't be sure about this,” Vincent said, looking hard at Ruby.
“Ruby is never wrong,” Eddie said. He blew a stream of smoke towards the ceiling. “DEA are a much bigger problem.”
“Not just DEA. We also have customers in the Golden Mountain waiting for their powder,” Vincent pointed out.
“I will find another supplier. Meanwhile Ruby will go to the Golden Mountain and explain this delay, offer a discount to our customers if they will wait a few more weeks. Okay, Ruby-ah?”
Ruby nodded. “Sure Eddie.”
“We will take our revenge on the Sun Yee On. But not in the street.”
Won Ton frowned. “Then how?”
“I have a ghost inside the Sun Yee On, he can tell us when he has a new delivery and we will pass this information to the yellow air. Okay, Ruby-ah?”
The conversation continued in whispers for another half an hour. Finally Ruby rose to leave.
“I will walk you to the elevator,” Eddie said.
“Good night, Vincent,” Ruby said sweetly, but he did not answer.
***
Two of Eddie's horses waited in the foyer outside the banqueting hall. They fell into step behind him.
“Hold it here,” he said to them, as the lift doors opened.
The elevator cars in the building soared along the outside of the buildings. They were made almost entirely of reinforced plexiglass and afforded giddying views over Kowloon. Ruby stepped into the elevator and stared down at the teeming crowds and the jam of traffic, her knuckles white around the chrome rail. She hated heights.
Eddie stood close behind her. She smelled his cologne, Versaille Pour Homme. He put his arms about her waist. “Look at them down there,” he whispered. “They don't exist for us. Like ants crawling around. We are gods, you and I. While they struggle and sweat, we do what we want. Yes, do what we want.” His hands lifted the hem of her black skirt and rolled down her silk underpants.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He pressed against her, so that she could not move from the elevator rail. He was not a big man, but he was strong, very strong. She looked over his shoulder, saw one of his 49's, leaning against the elevator doors, jamming them open. His partner had disappeared.
“Look Ruby-ah, down there they struggle for the scraps of poor food they eat, for the little holes in the wall where they live. When they pray, they pray to us!”
She gasped as she felt his heat between her legs.
“No one can see us, Ruby-ah. We see all of Kowloon, but they cannot see us. They spend their whole lives with their heads down, too scared to look up, too scared of us.”
He entered her suddenly. It hurt. He was breathing hard in her ear. “You like this, don't you, Ruby-ah? You like the risk. You like it even more than you like the smell of money.”
He stopped suddenly before the Clouds and Rain, his hands clenched on the rail either side of her. His breathing was ragged. She felt him withdraw, still hard, still unspent. “The gods must preserve their yang, their vital essence,” he said. “It is how they get their strength.”
She heard him zip his trousers. He pulled up her underwear and kissed her gently on the nape of her neck.
“Go,” he said to his bodyguard. “Listen to the wind,” he whispered to her. “Tell me what you hear.”
She nodded.
“Vincent thinks I should kill you,” he said as he walked out and the elevator doors closed.
Chapter 20
Statue Square is Hong Kong's Trafalgar Square, the hub around which the wheel of the city once turned. Years before it had faced directly onto the harbor, overlooked by the green mountains of Hong Kong island. Around its perimeters were the symbols of those institutions on which the colony had been founded; Government House, the Anglican cathedral, the Hong Kong Club and a statue of Queen Victoria.
But now a multi-story car park rose between the square and the harbor, and the cathedral and Government House had disappeared behind the concrete towers of Central; the Hong Kong Club was hidden away in a twenty four story office block. The famous cricket ground has petrified into a municipal garden, mostly concrete, and the statue of the old girl from which the square derived its name was long gone.
Hong Kong, founded on borrowed soil and borrowed time, was never a place with tenderness for its past.
McReadie waited at the far end of the square, in the futuristic shadow of the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank. Ruby Wen arrived just before ten-thirty, half an hour late, tottering across the square in black leather pumps.
She looks as if she had been melted down and poured into her jeans, McReadie thought. We must look like an underage tart and her middle-aged client.
“You're late,” he grumbled. He put his hands in his pockets and started to walk. She fell into step beside him.
“Never get up so early before,” Ruby said. “It is just dawn.”
“It's half past ten.”
“Still early, never mind.” She rummaged in her Cartier handbag for her cigarettes and offered him one. He shook his head.
“You've cut your hair.”
“Got lucky forehead. Too much hair before. You like?”
“It's all right,” McReadie said.
“Very expensive. Two thousand Hong Kong.”
McReadie ran a hand across his own skull, his grey hair thinning and plastered across the crown. “Now you've got as much hair as me, and it didn't cost me anything.”
“But you never have men want to make dirty stuff with you.”
“I sincerely bloody hope not,” he growled.
It was a Sunday morning and Statue Square had been invaded by the Filipina maids of Hong Kong, as it was every Sunday, their traditional day off. They flocked into the heart of Central in their thousands, swarmed from the MTR and the ferries to take up their posts on benches and on the edges of fountains, chattering to each other in Tagalog. They brought with them in their shopping bags their playing car
ds and radios and home-cooked lunches and posed for photographs to send home to their families in Quezon and Manila.
“What have you got for me, Ruby?”
“South Wind whispers there is big shipment of number four, heya. Thai trawler with two hundred kilo of white powder.”
“When?”
“Wednesday night. Transfer to fishing boat called Tai Pak. Sail back to Aberdeen same night.”
McReadie nodded, concealing his excitement. Two hundred kilos of number four! It would be a major public relations coup.
“Pay me twenty five thousand, okay?”
“We both know the rules, Ruby.”
“Cheap Charlie!”
“No exceptions.”
Ruby made a face at him and flounced away across the square. As McReadie watched her go, he wondered how she came by her information. He was almost certainly being used as part of a much bigger game. But for two hundred kilos of number four heroin, he didn't really care.
Chapter 21
The new town of Shatin was a much different place from the village she had grown up in. The skyline was dotted with cranes and dismal concrete towers, housing estates for the burgeoning population of factory workers moving out of Hong Kong to the territories. Blocks of apartments dotted the Shing Mun river channel, following the gullies up into the mountains, thickets of television aerials sprouting from their roofs, windows flying the banners of a thousand laundry poles.
Ruby still remembered when most of this land had been rice paddies and bamboo shacks. She had no nostalgia for the past; she did not want to be a barefoot urchin with snot running out of her nose again. The urban march neither depressed or pleased her; all she felt was contempt for anyone prepared to live their whole lives in a two room dormitory apartment miles from the city.
Cemeteries with lights on, someone had once described these new towns.
She remembered what Eddie had whispered to her in the elevator. “Look Ruby-ah, down there they struggle for the scraps of poor food they eat, for the little holes in the wall where they live. When they pray, they pray to us!”
Chasing the Dragon: a story of love, redemption and the Chinese triads (Opium Book 2) Page 7
