by Matt Rogers
‘Not faking it,’ she grumbled, slipping even further into the charade.
‘If you don’t talk to me about it, I’ll leave you here to work things out for yourself.’
Instantly, she became alert. A cross expression fell over her features, complete with a furrowed brow and an icy glare. ‘You wouldn’t…’
‘No — I wouldn’t — but it made you give up your performance, didn’t it?’
She folded her arms across her chest and shifted restlessly. ‘I hate you.’
‘That’s not very nice.’
‘It’s the truth.’
‘I don’t think you do.’
‘You don’t know what I’m thinking.’
‘I have an idea. It has something to do with your parents. Do you think they’re involved with this?’
That brought about a fresh wave of emotions, each of which rolled over Shien with fervour. She made no attempt to hide them. First shock, then realisation that she’d let her feelings show, then anger at herself.
‘No,’ she demanded firmly, harsh enough for Slater to discern she was telling the truth. ‘Definitely not. Daddy’s not like that. He’d do anything to get me back. It’s just…’
‘Just what?’
There was no going back. The second she’d opened her mouth, Shien tumbled down a hole she couldn’t escape from. If she wanted Slater’s help, she would have to share what was on her mind, and he watched that realisation take hold in the form of an irritated twitch in her left eye.
‘We didn’t come to Macau for good reasons,’ she said. ‘Daddy was angry. It feels like he only comes here when he’s angry, and he had to bring me along because Mummy is back in Texas visiting family.’
‘Does she go there often?’
‘No.’
‘What does she do?’
‘Nothing now. She is very pretty and Daddy is very rich.’
‘I see.’
‘She won Miss Texas. Back in the day. At least that’s what she tells me.’
‘I see. Do you get on well?’
‘Who?’
‘You and your mother.’
‘I don’t see her much. I don’t really have a mother…’
‘What does your dad do for work?’
‘He’s a businessman.’
‘Do you know what type of business?’
‘No. Nothing bad, though.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have security around all the time? Back in Hong Kong?’
Shien nodded. ‘But not because he does bad things. Daddy is worth a lot of money. He gives loans to people. I think that’s how it works.’
‘He’s an investor?’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘Did he come here to get his money back?’
Shien frowned, her brain moving fast in an effort to keep up. ‘I don’t know. It seemed like it, but he never talks to me about those things. He just said we were going on another trip. He was very mad.’
‘At you?’
‘No. Never. Just in general.’
‘Where were you staying?’
‘A hotel. I … can’t remember what it was called.’
‘Fancy place?’
‘Of course.’
‘Was your dad around much while you were here?’
‘No. He was always out. Doing his business.’
‘Were there men protecting you here?’
‘Less than usual,’ Shien said. ‘Daddy has a whole army back in Hong Kong. Well, not really, but I like to pretend they’re our private army. They just keep us safe.’
‘How many were with you in Macau?’
‘A couple.’
‘Were they around when you got kidnapped the first time?’
‘I don’t remember it,’ she said. ‘Someone pushed something in my face — like a cloth or something — and that’s all I remember. Then I was kept in rooms for days and days. I never saw anyone, and they kept putting these needles in me to keep me like this. Then those three men let me go, and everything went crazy when you showed up.’
‘That usually happens with me,’ Slater muttered. ‘These men who let you go — did they say anything else?’
‘No,’ Shien said, then hesitated. ‘Well, maybe. That part’s still foggy. I just remember the codes and the address.’
‘Is your memory good, Shien?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Very good?’
‘I don’t know. I was in advanced classes.’
‘If they knew that, they might have realised they could use you as a messenger. If they knew with absolute certainty that you’d remember the numbers and letters they told you.’
‘But I still feel foggy. I’m surprised I remember.’
‘There’s ways to embed things in people’s heads,’ Slater said.
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
‘You shouldn’t.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I used to do things for my country that weren’t legal. There’s a lot I know about that you wouldn’t like the sound of.’
‘Can you tell me?’
‘Not now. Probably not ever. Right now I need to know if there’s anything else you can remember the three men telling you. You’re obviously important to them. Think, Shien. Where were we supposed to go from here? We need to figure it out on our own now, because there’s no way we can pretend to go along with the plan anymore. They know I’m protecting you. They won’t help you.’
‘The tap.’
Slater froze. The statement had come out of nowhere — one second Shien had been uniformly mute, the next she’d blurted out the two words as if mid-epiphany.
‘What?’ he said.
‘They told me to stay here overnight. And then check the tap. How did I forget that?’
‘Obviously they didn’t repeat it as much as the codes,’ Slater muttered.
He shot to his feet and crossed to the kitchenette. On the way he glanced into the front hallway and caught a glimpse of the dead man near the door, slumped against the wall and sitting in a puddle of his own blood. The bullet hole in his forehead refused to stop bleeding, along with the gruesome exit wound in the back of his skull.
Slater studied the rusting metal tap on the way over to the sink, spending little time wondering where the information would be.
He thought he knew.
Spurred on by the ticking clock counting down to when the next armed killer would show up, he wrapped one bloody palm around the tap and wrenched it free from the wall, simply tearing it out of the damp plaster around its base. With a groan of crumpling supports it dropped into the sink, flakes of rust falling off its surface. The feat must have looked superhuman, but Slater realised Shien could have probably made the same actions with half the effort.
The tap had been deliberately weakened — or already removed previously.
Slater peered into the narrow hole in the wall, where the pipeline disappeared fast into the darkness, and spotted the murky glint of a dirty key a couple of inches inside. It had been secured to the side of the pipe with a single piece of scotch tape, ensuring it didn’t detach when the flow of water rushed past it.
Slater ripped the key out of the pipe and twirled it over and over between his fingers, studying the tag that came attached with it.
It read 516.
‘Shien,’ he said. ‘What’s our room number?’
He heard her rustling around the floor beside the mattress, retrieving the key that had let them into this pitiful residence.
‘502,’ she said softly.
‘This is just down the hall,’ Slater muttered. ‘When are we supposed to—’
‘Midday, today. They told me that too.’
‘You just remembered that now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is this coming back to you by chance, or were you supposed to remember it?’
‘I don’t know.’
Slater checke
d his Rolex — it was just after seven in the morning. ‘So they need until twelve. I guess they’re putting someone in place, and they need time to do it. You hungry?’
13
At ten in the morning — Shien had requested another couple of hours sleep — they found themselves at a thriving eatery tucked into the ground floor of one of the sprawling buildings lining the nearby streets. Slater had ushered Shien quickly out of their complex in case they were being watched, but he quickly realised the density of the neighbourhood would prevent any kind of tail from following them.
There were thousands of people on the streets, floating between markets and laundromats and shooting past on motorised scooters. It seemed that the humidity intensified during the daytime — up to this point, Slater had spent most of his days in air-conditioned luxury, tucked deep in the bowels of Macau’s five-star resorts and casinos.
The heat reminded him of Yemen.
A place he would do good to forget.
They sat at a cramped booth in a long, narrow room packed with dozens of paying customers. Rickety fans blasted overhead, switched to the highest possible setting, but they did little to combat the weather. The temperature compounded with the body heat of the civilians packing the steaming room to create a sweltering atmosphere that Slater was still acclimatising to.
It seemed Shien was used to the conditions.
She munched on a plate of minchi, a traditional Macanese dish made of minced beef. A young waitress with a glistening forehead brought over two tall glasses of room-temperature water and Slater drained his glass in a couple of seconds, relishing the brief reprieve from the dry throat that had plagued him for the last twelve hours.
Combat and tension stressed him out, which wreaked havoc on his body.
Nothing he wasn’t used to, though.
Stress had become normal long ago.
‘You never answered my question this morning,’ Slater said when Shien had polished off the last few kernels of rice on her plate.
She swallowed and frowned at him. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Why don’t you want me to contact your parents?’
Her cheeks flushed red — she couldn’t help it. ‘I just don’t want Daddy to be put in danger.’
‘That’s not the reason.’
‘Will…’
‘I get you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m risking my neck here. At least spare me that much.’
She paused, tapping her fingers incessantly against the lip of the empty plate in front of her. ‘Fine.’
‘When you’re ready.’
‘I think it has something to do with my Daddy. And, despite what you might think, he’s a good person. He doesn’t do anything illegal. You might not believe me and that’s fine. But I know the truth. And if I try to get back to him, they might kill him. I’m scared… I don’t know what to do.’
‘How do you know he’s not dead now?’
Wrong fucking choice of words, he thought.
She made to respond but the breath caught in her throat, an emotional reaction to a terrifying hypothetical. Slater gulped back unease and lifted a palm in apology, shaking his head. ‘It’s unlikely. There’s all the chance in the world you’ve been kidnapped to extort money out of him.’
Shien managed to restrain herself, massaging her temples with her tiny fingers. ‘I hope he’s okay.’
‘I’m sure he’s fine.’
‘But — what do we do from here? If I can’t go back to him, where do I go? What do we do?’
Slater wished he had answers.
‘Let’s take care of what we can control,’ he said. ‘I’ll find out what the deal is with this second apartment we’re supposed to visit. You won’t be in any danger. I’ll make sure of that.’
‘What was all that about anyway? The first apartment….’
‘I think it was a holding room. Whoever released you needs time to get things in place.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know everything, Shien.’
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, her upper lip started to quiver and she stared at Slater with a certain apprehension that hadn’t been there before. Slater shifted uncomfortably in his seat — he could violently subdue hired killers all day long, but dealing with the emotions of a vulnerable child took him far out of his comfort zone. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Y-you killed that man back there, Will. He’s dead.’
‘I know.’
He realised his own foolishness. Sooner or later, the effects of the suppressive drugs in her system would abate entirely and she’d be free to consider everything she’d witnessed. So far it seemed she’d barely been affected by the chaos all around her — in his inexperience with children, Slater had chalked it up to a simple tough morale.
But no kid could handle what Shien was going through.
The drugs were artificially helping her compartmentalise the dead bodies she’d seen and the carnage that had unfolded all around her.
Now, her emotions were beginning to catch up to her.
Slater pondered the best course of action before reaching across and placing a hand on Shien’s wrist. His fingers dwarfed her forearm, but she managed to compose herself.
‘This is an awful situation,’ he whispered. ‘But it’s going to be okay. I’ll get you back to your dad.’
‘You can’t do that unless he’s going to be safe,’ Shien said, pouting. ‘And there’s no way to tell whether he’s safe.’
‘I’m fairly talented at dealing with situations like this. I have experience with this kind of thing.’
‘You don’t even know what the situation is.’
‘That was part of my job description. I dealt with unique threats.’
‘What did you do?’
‘That’s not something I like talking about.’
‘You can talk to me about it.’
‘Actually, I think you’re the last person I should talk to about it.’
She yanked her wrist out of his grasp, staring at him with all the intensity she could muster.
The drugs were certainly fading.
Her emotions were heightened.
‘Will,’ she said. ‘I know I’m nine, but I’m not stupid. My Daddy is not a bad man, but he deals with bad men. I think he gives them money, and expects it back. So I’m very young but I’ve seen a lot of things and I know how the world works. I know people do bad things. I don’t care if you used to do bad things. I—’
She trailed off mid-sentence, furrowing her brow. For such a youthful kid the speech had taken a great deal of concentration, and finally the burden had become too great. Slater saw the fogginess draping back over her in brief flashes — the remnants of the stuff in her system battling for control.
The speech itself had shocked him. He hadn’t anticipated it — his gut reaction told him to shield Shien from any kind of exposure to violence and suffering. He’d slipped up by handling the corpse around her back at the apartment, and before they’d trekked to the eatery he’d silently promised himself to keep her as distant as possible.
But maybe she needed to know certain details.
For her own sanity.
It would mess with her head if Slater kept himself solemn and mute for the rest of their time together. Perhaps she’d live in fear of what he might do to her.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I was in the military. That’s all I’m comfortable telling you.’
‘A soldier?’
‘A special kind of soldier.’
‘Like a superhero?’
He bowed his head to mask a smirk. ‘Something like that, Shien.’
14
Shien had explicitly told him midday, but Slater decided to make the journey back to the apartment complex’s fifth floor twenty minutes before the allotted time slot. He had to roughly maintain the schedule they expected of him, but adjust it just enough to throw them off their game. Maybe whoever was expecting them wouldn’t be prepared for an early arrival.
He could catch them off their guard.
He passed the same Filipino landlord they’d encountered earlier, hurrying Shien through the lobby as fast as he could. He mustered his best menacing expression and shot daggers at the elderly man. The guy wilted under Slater’s glare, hunching forward and staring straight at the ground between his feet. He must have informed Shien’s captors of the presence of a stranger, which had sent the thug with the jewelled earring to check on them.
He must have seen the man go up the stairwell, four hours earlier.
He wouldn’t have seen him come down, for the thug was lying dead in their apartment.
So the landlord knew what Slater was capable of, and would try his best to stay out of their hair.
It was in his own best interests.
When they made it past the elderly man, Shien felt it safe to speak. ‘I’m scared, Will.’
‘That’s only natural. I’m scared too.’
‘You don’t look scared.’
‘The fear never really goes away. You just get better at hiding it.’
‘So why do you keep doing these things over and over?’
‘It’s what I’ve always done, Shien,’ he muttered.
They climbed the same stairwell, inhaling the abhorrent combination of dampness and rot that had needled its way into Slater’s brain over the last twelve hours. The five-star suites were a thing of the past. Despite the less-than-favourable conditions, something about the dingy surroundings felt familiar to him.
It felt like home.
He had no idea what to expect from 516. They’d been given a key, which gave them direct access to the apartment, which eliminated privacy from the equation. Whoever resided in the flat wouldn’t be able to prevent them from entering. It made Slater think that whoever they’d be meeting wasn’t in bed with Shien’s captors.
Another scapegoat, perhaps.
A chain of people thrust into a difficult situation to separate the men responsible from any guilt.
He kept that in the back of his mind as they strode out into the familiar fifth-floor corridor. Slater pressed a hand instinctively to Shien’s shoulder, holding her back while he checked whether the coast was clear. The hallway lay empty — he guessed the residents were either drugged to the eyeballs or at work. He glanced at the carpet outside room 502 — the bloodstain where the thug with the jewelled earring had collapsed was barely noticeable amidst the surrounding filth.
