Second Sister

by Chan Ho-Kei

  “You’re not wrong, though there is another method I want to try.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How many times have I told you, Miss Au, don’t ask about my methods. I guarantee you’ll be happy with the results, and that’s all you need to know.”

  Nga-Yee pouted, taking a mouthful of her now-cold tea.

  N stroked his chin for a few seconds. “Let’s broaden your horizons a little. Watch this.”

  Nga-Yee looked where he was pointing. A couple of tables away, a woman of about twenty was surfing the net. She was facing away from them, and Nga-Yee could see the screen of her tablet over her shoulder.

  “Watch what?”

  N gently pushed the white phone, and a small keyboard popped out one side of it. So that’s why it was so thick. N’s thumbs flew across the keys.

  “Dog, cat, or rabbit?” he said, still jabbing away.

  “What?”

  “Choose one. Dog, cat, or rabbit.”

  “Rabbit, I guess.”

  “Look at her screen.”

  The woman clicked on a link on her news site, and Nga-Yee almost spat out her tea.

  Filling the screen was a picture of a white rabbit, with the headline DISCOVERED IN ENGLAND: KILLER RABBIT GUARDING THE HOLY GRAIL.

  The woman seemed surprised. She flicked her finger across the screen and returned to the previous page. When she clicked on the link again, the rabbit no longer appeared.

  Nga-Yee turned back to N, who was grinning smugly. He showed her what was on the white phone’s screen: the same rabbit.

  “You hacked into her tablet?”

  “Of course.”

  “Just like that?”

  “That’s all there is to it.”

  “Is that really possible?” Nga-Yee thought of what she’d seen in movies: hackers with all sorts of equipment physically breaking into server rooms and messing around with cables.

  “Free public Wi-Fi is full of vulnerable spots. More important, people don’t have any sense of self-preservation these days. You’re actually better off because you know you’re ignorant. Most people think they can use technology, but their devices are much more powerful than they imagine.”

  “What’s wrong with Wi-Fi?” What N just did still looked like a magic trick to her.

  “Guess how I did that?”

  “You’re controlling her tablet!”

  “Nope.” N pointed at the PISCESFREEWIFI sign on the counter. “I’m controlling the Wi-Fi network she’s connected to.”

  “Huh?”

  “This is known as a man-in-the-middle attack, or MITM for short. Hacking techniques are actually simple. Just a sort of third-rate magic trick. But because there’s a layer of science over the top, people think it’s complex.” N glanced over at the woman with the laptop. “I got my phone to pretend to be PiscesFreeWiFi. My signal was stronger than the shop’s router, so her tablet jumped to my network. At the same time, I connected to the real PiscesFreeWiFi, turning myself into an invisible go-between. Do you know what your computer does when you surf to a web page?”

  Nga-Yee shook her head.

  “To put it as simply as I can, when you type in an address, your computer sends out a request to the remote server, which sends the right words and images to your computer. And it’s the Wi-Fi network that makes the connection between them. It’s like when you’re at the library and someone wants to borrow a Harry Potter book. They ask for it at the counter, and you get it from the shelf for them. You’re the Wi-Fi in that scenario.”

  This analogy made sense to Nga-Yee—after all, that’s what she did all day long.

  “What I’ve just done is to put on a librarian badge and set up a fake counter by the entrance. Customers think I’m the real thing, so they ask me for the Harry Potter book. I take off my badge, go to the real counter, and ask you for the book. You give it to me, and I pass it on. Neither you nor the borrower would notice that anything was wrong.”

  “But you’ve found out that this person wanted a Harry Potter book.”

  “Yes. It’s a complete infringement of the customer’s privacy. And if I wanted to make trouble, I could take a Harry Potter dust jacket and put it on a copy of The 120 Days of Sodom …”

  Nga-Yee knew where this was going. When the woman with the tablet clicked on the link earlier, N had intercepted the request and sent her something about killer rabbits instead. In this example, if the borrower had never read any of the other books in the series, they might end up believing the Harry Potter novels were set not in Hogwarts School, but amid the perversions of Château de Silling. What’s more, she realized, if the fake news had been something less obviously ridiculous than a killer rabbit, the woman would never have noticed, but simply taken it as the truth.

  “Oh!” Nga-Yee exclaimed. Lowering her voice, she went on. “If she’d been doing online banking, you could have gotten her log-in and password or tricked her into transferring money to you.”

  “There’d be a few more steps if it were a bank—you’d need a fake home page to bypass verification—but you’re basically right. Give me ten minutes, and I could find out that woman’s name, address, job, relationship status, recent worries, bra size, and so on. Give me an hour, and I’d find a way to shape her mind or change her behavior. That’s why I said not knowing anything about computers can be a plus. At least you don’t need to worry that people will discover your fetishes by seeing what specialized sex toys you buy online.”

  Nga-Yee felt a chill go down her spine. She’d known there were issues with privacy online, but had still assumed that what happened to Siu-Man was out of the ordinary. Now N was showing her how people might think they were unobserved, not understanding that the walls around them were made of glass and any number of eyes could watch their most intimate moments.

  Watching N sip his iced latte without any sign of concern gave Nga-Yee goose bumps. How many of her own secrets had he uncovered? She didn’t visit many websites, and still he’d known the exact amount of money she had in her bank account, as well as her work schedule and god knows what else. As far as he was concerned, she was an open book.

  The only crumb of comfort was that this terrifying man was on her side.

  N abruptly reached out to grab Siu-Man’s phone, along with the white hacker one, both of which vanished back into his pocket. Nga-Yee didn’t know what he was up to, but now his expression was changing too, back to the warm smile he’d used at the school.

  “Remember, don’t butt in.”

  With that, N half stood and waved at someone just entering the coffee shop. Nga-Yee turned and was startled to see Kwok-Tai striding toward them.

  “Hello, Mr. Ong, Ms. Au,” he said politely, putting his bag down. “I’ll go get a coffee.”

  N nodded. While Kwok-Tai was at the counter, Nga-Yee hurriedly leaned over to N and hissed, “What’s he doing here? How come he’s acting like we have an appointment?”

  “Remember when I said we’ll have to wait for the next opportunity?” N grinned. “I left the door open to make up for your blunder, though I didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

  Nga-Yee recalled him giving Kwok-Tai and Lily his phone number in the cafeteria.

  “Ah! So when your phone rang in the library, that was him?”

  “He said he’d meet us here. Apparently he has more to tell us about your sister.”

  How annoying that N hadn’t bothered telling her, Nga-Yee thought. If she’d lost her temper earlier and gone off, he would have met Kwok-Tai on his own and she’d never have found out.

  “Don’t butt in,” said N, shutting her up as Kwok-Tai slid into his seat, clutching an iced coffee.

  “Not eating anything?” N asked. “When I was your age, I was always so hungry after school, I could have eaten a horse.”

  “No, I don’t—don’t feel hungry,” said Kwok-Tai, forcing a smile.

  He took a sip of his coffee and looked down, clearly wanting to speak, but not knowing how to start. After a long
while he turned to Nga-Yee and asked, “Siu-Man … Did she ever mention me?”

  Before Nga-Yee could figure out how to answer that, N had jumped in. “No.”

  “I guess she still hadn’t forgiven me.” Sorrow was written across Kwok-Tai’s face.

  “Did something happen between the two of you?”

  “We, um, dated for a short while,” said Kwok-Tai. “Broke up after a couple of weeks.”

  Nga-Yee couldn’t believe her ears. Her sister, dating? So Miss Yuen was right—Siu-Man had relationship issues. Yet Nga-Yee had never noticed any signs that she was seeing someone. Worse, did this mean that kidkit727’s accusation was true? Had she stolen someone else’s boyfriend? And did that mean the other things—selling herself, taking drugs—had also happened?

  “How did it start?” N asked.

  “Lily and I were classmates in primary school, and we lived near each other, so we were always playmates.” Kwok-Tai’s voice was level, but his features were etched with pain. “Siu-Man was Lily’s classmate in year one. In fact, their desks were next to each other, and after a while they became close friends. So I saw a lot of Siu-Man too. The three of us got together in this coffee shop every Friday after class, just to hang out and drink tea. Sometimes we’d go strolling around Mong Kok afterward. That was a fun time. We saw quite a lot of each other during the summer vacation as well. Then I … I started falling for Siu-Man.”

  Nga-Yee tried hard to remember, but she had no idea what Siu-Man had gotten up to the previous summer. She worked at the Central Library, so summer was her busiest time. Not only were students free, working folk borrowed more books too, and the elderly came by to enjoy the free air-conditioning. She and her coworkers all had their breaks cut short. She really couldn’t say whether Siu-Man had gone out a lot then; she’d been too tired to say much to her sister and mother when she got home. In fact, she was now startled to discover, her memory of this time was an almost complete blank. Each day she went through the ritual of getting out of bed, going to work, returning home in time for dinner with her family, reading a few pages of a novel, then sleep. A monotonous, repetitive life, doing nothing but turning her time into money. Her sole aim was to increase her bank balance to support her family; nothing else mattered.

  “In year two, Lily got on the volleyball team and had to practice after school, so it was just me and Siu-Man hanging out. I think it was November when I told her that I had feelings for her. She was surprised, but the next day she agreed to go out with me,” Kwok-Tai went on. “I was the happiest guy in the world until she ghosted me a week later. I thought I must have said or done something wrong, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. Two weeks later, she finally got in touch to say we should break up because we were too different. I couldn’t understand. When I tried to change her mind, she got really scary.”

  “Scary how?”

  “I felt as if she hated me from the bottom of her heart. I’d never seen her face like that. Finally I couldn’t stand it, so I just shouted at her for messing around with my feelings. And that was that.”

  “She never forgave you because of this?”

  “No, no.” Kwok-Tai shook his head in misery. “That was nothing. Just me being stupid. Afterward, Siu-Man also stopped talking to Lily. I was so lost, but Lily kept trying to cheer me up … and so I started dating her.”

  Nga-Yee had been thinking what a dependable boyfriend a guy like Kwok-Tai would have been, but after hearing this, she had to revise her opinion. How could he have gotten together with another girl so soon after breaking up with her sister? Then again, perhaps it was Nga-Yee herself who was behind the times—for all she knew, teenagers these days were all into these fast-food romances, and Kwok-Tai was a good guy for only dating them one at a time.

  “Are you and Lily still together?” asked N.

  “Yes, though there was a rough patch. That’s when I found out what was really going on.” Kwok-Tai sighed. “Last May, something seemed off with Siu-Man. I asked our teacher, and found out that her mother had just died. It felt like the right time to put aside the past. I’d promised Lily I wouldn’t fall for her again, but at a time like this, she’d need her friends’ support. I told Lily we should make amends, but she refused. I thought she was still upset that Siu-Man had hurt me. I didn’t know the half of it.”

  “Something happened between Siu-Man and Lily?” N ventured.

  “You guessed it. I was a real idiot.” Kwok-Tai grimaced. “I kept asking Lily, until finally she had to tell me: Siu-Man had told Lily she’d agreed to go out with me. I had no idea, but Lily had liked me since we were kids. She went wild—lashed out and accused Siu-Man of stealing her true love. She told her she wouldn’t be friends with someone like that. Siu-Man broke up with me not long afterward. That’s the real reason those two stopped speaking. When I found out, I didn’t know what to do. In the end, I decided to stay with Lily and let them go on ignoring each other.”

  This might seem like three kids playing house, but Nga-Yee understood how hard it must have been. Fourteen-year-olds get worked up over the slightest thing, and it wouldn’t take much to rip apart their fragile friendships. Lily must have wanted to come clean over lunch, but Kwok-Tai had stopped her, probably out of fear that she’d get yelled at. Instead, he’d arranged to meet N in private.

  “When Siu-Man died so suddenly, you must have felt a lot of regret,” said N. There was no blame in his voice.

  Kwok-Tai nodded. His eyes had reddened.

  “When neither of you brought it up today, I guessed Siu-Man never even told you we were dating. That just made me sadder. Shout at me if you like, but please don’t blame Lily. It was my fault—I should have seen what was going on with them. And we didn’t reach out to her when she needed us most. That was— that was my fault too.”

  A tear rolled down his cheek, and he started to sob. Nga-Yee didn’t know what to do until N nudged her and pointed at her handbag, and she reached into it and handed him a Kleenex. He looked so woeful that Nga-Yee was seized with an urge to tell him it really wasn’t his fault, that the person responsible for Siu-Man’s death was someone named kidkit727.

  Kwok-Tai dried his tears, and the three of them were silent for a while. Nga-Yee was holding her tongue because N had ordered her to. His silence was probably more strategic: allowing Kwok-Tai to recover, so the interrogation could continue.

  “Kwok-Tai,” said N a moment before the lack of conversation started feeling weird, “you said Lily made you promise not to care for Siu-Man again. Does that mean you tried to do something else for her after you’d started dating Lily?”

  The boy froze for a second, then nodded. “Yes. It was a dangerous situation, so I couldn’t care too much about what Lily thought.”

  “Are you talking about what happened at the karaoke lounge on Christmas Eve?”

  “You know about that?” Kwok-Tai stared at him. “Did Siu-Man tell you? I thought she wouldn’t say anything, especially since she probably didn’t even know what was going on.”

  “She didn’t. I happened to find out some details, and guessed the rest. We aren’t sure what actually happened to her, though.”

  Kwok-Tai glanced at N and then Nga-Yee. After hesitating a long while, he bit his lip and said, “You already know we were dating, so I guess it can’t hurt to tell you the rest.”

  Nga-Yee swallowed.

  “It was December twenty-fourth, the year before last. I’d thought I would be spending the holidays with Siu-Man, but ended up with Lily instead.” Kwok-Tai spoke very slowly, as if reluctant to return to that awkward triangle. “I hated myself. Even when I was on a date with Lily, I’d still be thinking about Siu-Man. I felt like scum. That evening, Lily and I were out shopping. We’d planned to have dinner at a Japanese restaurant, but on our way there, we bumped into an older schoolmate from my band. He mentioned Siu-Man.”

  “He knew her too?”

  “Not really, but Lily and Siu-Man sometimes came to watch band practice, so he knew we were g
ood friends … Of course he had no idea about all the trouble. He told us as he was walking past Langham Place earlier, he passed a large group of people including Siu-Man. A couple of those guys were notorious for being in bands just to score with women—they were terrible musicians. Rumor was that they would persuade young girls to be escorts—”

  Those last two words reminded Nga-Yee of the accusation.

  “Did Siu-Man know them?” asked N.

  “I don’t know.” Kwok-Tai frowned, clearly suffering. “I’d never have believed Siu-Man would ever hang out with them, and yet … I felt uneasy all the way through dinner, so I called Siu-Man while Lily was in the bathroom. She only answered the second time, and I couldn’t get any sense out of her—she was slurring her words. I could tell from the background noise that she was in a karaoke place.”

  “Was Lily there when your bandmate told you about what he saw?”

  “Yes, she heard everything.”

  “Didn’t it bother her?”

  “This wasn’t long after they fell out, so we never talked about Siu-Man. When my bandmate mentioned her, it was a bit awkward, so we continued with our evening as if nothing had happened. But I could tell she was worried too—she didn’t even finish her favorite uni sushi.”

  “So after you spoke to Siu-Man on the phone, you told Lily the two of you had to go get her?”

  Kwok-Tai nodded. “She sounded so strange. I thought Lily would say no, but she agreed. All she said was, ‘But this is the last time you see her.’ We quickly paid the bill and hurried over to the karaoke bar at King Wah Centre.”

  N raised an eyebrow. “How did you know that’s where the she was?”

  “When Siu-Man called, the song in the background was the new Andy Hui hit. I knew only one karaoke chain had the rights to that, and their only Mong Kok branch was in King Wah Centre.”

  N’s mouth turned up appreciatively. “Did you find her there?”

  “No—much worse.” Kwok-Tai sighed. “We got there around ten thirty and saw Siu-Man on the street outside. She was being carried along by two men, heading toward Sai Yeung Choi Street. I ran over to stop them, and those two bastards had the nerve to warn me not to make trouble. So I shouted that she was underage, and when passersby turned to look at us, they abandoned Siu-Man and ran away.”