by Chan Ho-Kei
—Do you think this guy was working alone?
—if he had an accomplice, they must be in hiding
—How useless do you think the police are? Hong Kong’s so small—where would he hide?
—Hide in hell. Someone like that might as well be dead.
Dead?
Hey, Vi, never give up on life, no matter how hard it gets. Send your anger outward to other people instead! We live in a ridiculous society. All kinds of injustices happen around us every single day, big ones and small ones. If the universe is going to treat us like that, there’s no reason to play fair. I don’t care if the whole world hates me. Only the strong survive.
She remembered her brother saying that.
But it wasn’t applicable at this moment.
Was her very existence a threat to him?
He’d suffered since he was a little boy. Now he was finally making something of himself, doing well at his career. If he became a criminal, his future would be over.
She thought of her reply to Franny.
… These two characters may not be lovers, but they’re even closer than that. They’re a single entity. We can’t possibly judge them in earthly terms. I believe the author wanted to emphasize that these two are bound together. That’s why the man doesn’t regard it as a sacrifice when he dies for the woman. As far as he’s concerned, his life and hers are the same thing …
At 9:26 a new reply came in—there were close to a hundred posts on this thread now.
POSTED BY spacezzz ON 07-05-2015, 21:26
re: Mastermind behind girl’s (14) suicide?
I know the man who was arrested. He’s my coworker. I never realized he was this sort of person. You can never tell what’s in someone’s heart! I have insider info: he once told me he has a little sister in secondary school. I’ve seen them together. I remember her uniform—she’s at the same school as the girl who killed herself! There must be a connection there.
Violet had stopped shaking.
She was no longer confused.
Sunday, July 5, 2015
We’re in trouble!
12:48
Where are you? Someone reported you to the police!!
13:10
!
13:15
It’s out of control! Go look! At Popcorn!
13:31
Are you there?
14:01
I’m so scared!!
14:42
Call me right away when you see this
15:13
Please
15:14
Brother
15:14
CHAPTER EIGHT
1.
“No problems here. Just keep an eye on Sze Chung-Nam,” said N to Ducky on the phone as he stood beneath the streetlight. He hung up and went back to his vehicle, where Nga-Yee was sitting on her own, eyes fixed on the screen in front of her.
After confirming the identities of Little Seven and the Rat, N and Nga-Yee had been keeping a close watch on Violet To’s movements. N’s van had been parked near the To apartment for several days now. This was a white Ford Transit, a common enough model on the streets of Hong Kong that no one would pay too much attention. To remove even this small risk, N moved it to a different spot on Broadcast Drive every day, just in case an observant passerby or overzealous security guard might notice it. Right now he was at the junction of Broadcast and Fessenden Road.
This looked like a perfectly ordinary Ford Transit. Its exterior was a little grimy, its front bumper a little dented, and its windows covered, just like any other delivery vehicle. The interior, though, surprised Nga-Yee greatly when she first set eyes on it a few days earlier.
It was full of screens.
In the enclosed back of the van, the walls on either side had six computer screens of different sizes. Closer to the front was a metal rack, every shelf stuffed full of electronics—a riot of buttons, dials, and indicator panels. Every surface was covered with a spongelike substance, and a six-foot-long desk along one side held several laptops, keyboards, and mouses, as well as some items that looked a bit like remote controls. Empty Starbucks cups and snack packets littered the table. Cables snaked across the floor. Three chairs had been placed at the desk, beneath which were several cardboard boxes and, in one corner, a trash bag stuffed with paper cups and food cartons. This was about the same level of mess as at N’s Second Street apartment, and a faint nasty smell permeated the space.
Nga-Yee had felt uncomfortable in this cramped space to start with, but several days in, she was used to it—particularly when she saw the results. She wouldn’t mind being buried in rubbish like this, if she got what she wanted.
“What do you think? Will we get there tonight?” Nga-Yee asked as N came back into the van. Her eyes were fixed on Violet, who she’d never thought could be reduced to such a state in just a few days: hair disheveled, face withered, lips dry, eyes sunken, and empty of spirit.
“Yes. It will all be over tonight.” N yawned and sat down next to Nga-Yee. His voice was unbelievably calm, as if this revenge plot meant nothing to him.
Yet they were planning the death of a young girl.
“How will you deal with Violet To?” That’s what Nga-Yee had asked N that day they’d watched from the hotel room as Violet burned the fake suicide note in the lab.
“I suppose you want a life for a life?” he’d answered
N’s answer had startled her. She’d thought he was just stalling so she wouldn’t murder Violet with her bare hands, but now he seemed to be offering to carry out the killing for her.
“Are you—an assassin?” she stuttered.
“You don’t have to kill someone yourself if you want them dead,” said N, shaking his head. “For instance, if Violet To were to commit suicide, that would bring things full circle.”
“Are you saying we should make her murder look like suicide?” Nga-Yee’s voice shook. Her heart was full of revenge, but her mind couldn’t cope with the idea of putting this desire into action.
“No. I said suicide. Actual suicide.” N had looked straight into her eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather see that? Violet taking her own life, just like your sister did?”
Nga-Yee swallowed. “How will you do that?”
“I don’t know.” N shrugged. “But I’ll find a way.”
“Oh sure, that sounds easy, forcing her to kill herself.”
“You’re wrong, Miss Au. I don’t plan to force her. Coercing or compelling someone to commit suicide is no different from murder. Human beings are a higher species than other living things because we have free will, and we know we have free will. We’re rational creatures: we understand that every effect has a cause, and that we must take responsibility for our own decisions. I won’t force Violet to kill herself, but I will create the possibility of suicide, place it before her, and allow her to choose it. That’s the most perfect revenge you could possibly get.”
Nga-Yee had no idea what he was talking about, but she didn’t care. If N could help her get revenge, he could use free will or anything he liked to make it happen.
From the moment she’d hired N to take vengeance for her, Nga-Yee had shed her victimhood. No longer was she vulnerable and easily hurt; now she wanted Violet to pay in blood for what she’d done. The three of them still formed a triangle, but its points had shifted: from client-detective-culprit, to revenger-assassin-quarry.
On Monday, after they watched Violet burn the note, they had followed her. That night she met a man in his twenties or maybe early thirties, medium-built, who looked like an office worker. There was no way to know who he was, but N had been immediately certain that this must be the Rat, Violet’s technological support.
“She’s only just destroyed the note,” he’d said. “Unless she’s a criminal genius, her first instinct would be to go find her coconspirator. She’d be afraid she’d slipped up somewhere and would want to know if there was anything else she needed to do to fix things.”
Violet looked much more
natural here than she had at the school, and her eyes were full of admiration. The Rat must be her lover, Nga-Yee thought. She felt a smoldering fury—Violet had no right to look so happy.
The following afternoon, she got a surprising phone call from N. After saying goodbye to Nga-Yee, he’d followed the man and found out how he knew Violet: he was her brother.
“Hang on. The surname you just said isn’t To,” said Nga-Yee. “Are they actually related?”
“It’s a little complicated … I’ll tell you more when I see you.”
N sounded happier than normal. Perhaps he enjoyed revenge more than investigation.
Two days later, Nga-Yee was on her way to work on the bus when she got another phone call from N.
“Come to Broadcast Drive this afternoon. Meet me outside the Commercial Radio building.”
“What?” N had told her that Violet lived nearby, but she didn’t understand the point of her presence.
“I’ve done the reconnaissance. If you want to be part of this, come by this afternoon.”
“Um, okay. I’ll take the afternoon off.” She’d been about to say she’d come after work, but she didn’t know if turning down his request would mean getting cut off. “Are you sure you’re okay with me being there?”
“This is serious business. You’re such a moron, I can’t have you running around loose—you might wreck the plan,” N sneered. “This isn’t like an investigation. If any of this gets out, it won’t be easy to make it go away.”
Nga-Yee’s heart sank. She glanced at the other passengers on the bus, but no one seemed to be paying attention to her. She hadn’t said anything incriminating, anyway. In fact, although N had said this wasn’t murder, what they were doing went against every ethical and legal code, and they’d need to proceed very carefully. Even the phone she was speaking on was a burner N had given her three days earlier—the only safe way for them to get in touch.
At four that afternoon Nga-Yee arrived at the Commercial Radio building. There were never many people around on Broadcast Drive, and when she got off the bus, she didn’t see N anywhere. Before she could call him, her phone started to ring.
“White van across the road,” N’s voice barked curtly. She looked up, and sure enough, there it was, parked in front of a private home, under a saga tree. She dashed across the road and knocked on the side door. N stuck his head out, pulling her in before she could say anything.
“Huh?”
It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark, and when that happened, she was confused by her surroundings. The strangest thing was that several of the screens had Violet on them, lounging on an easy chair, reading a book.
“This is real time,” said N, gesturing for Nga-Yee to sit in one of the chairs. “She’s in her room now. You can see everything she does on Screens 2 and 3. Those other three cameras are aimed at different parts of her bedroom.”
“How are you doing this? Didn’t you say she lived on the tenth floor?” There were only residential buildings here, so N couldn’t have set up a surveillance point the way he did in the hotel.
“Drones,” answered N, waving a gray device about the size of his palm with four rotors attached. “I sent a few up to perch on the window ledges and aircon units of the apartment across from hers. Once I adjusted the angle, I could see everything. If necessary, I could place one in her room and get an even closer shot. They do make a little noise, but that won’t matter if she’s fast asleep.”
Nga-Yee thought back to the gangsters he’d threatened in the car. So that’s how he got the picture of the golden-haired man—he’d never actually been inside his house.
“You sent one of those into her room?” said Nga-Yee, pointing at Screen 2, which was clearly showing details at close quarters—she could even read the titles of the books on the shelves.
“No. That’s her laptop camera,” said N. “And I can activate the ones on her phone too, front and back. She has so many windows, though, and she never draws her curtains, so the drones should be enough for now.”
“Fine, you’re watching her every move. What’s the next step?”
“Like I said, we’ll create the opportunity and put the choice in front of her.”
He didn’t need to say the word “suicide” for Nga-Yee to know what he meant.
“How will you do that?”
“The most satisfying way would be to turn her tactics back on herself. If she were to be tormented on the internet, for example …” N paused. “But that’s not what I asked you here to talk about. Remember I said I’d tell you more about Violet’s family?”
Nga-Yee nodded. She still felt a stab of pain every time she thought of Violet’s face when she met her brother. She’d never be able to forgive these two bastards for taking her sister’s life.
N pulled one of the laptops toward him and tapped on the keyboard. Several photographs appeared on the screen: some of an older man and more of the guy they’d seen meeting Violet.
“This is Violet’s father,” said N, pointing. He was in his fifties, stern-looking in a black suit. “He has a senior position in a construction firm—this is from his company website. He’s on a business trip to the Mainland, which provides us with the perfect opportunity for revenge. He and Violet are the only people who live here, which means she’ll be home alone till he comes back next week.”
“What about Violet’s mother?”
“She ditched them a few years ago.”
Nga-Yee was a little surprised—did rich people abandon their families like that? But then she thought about it and decided that maybe only a rich person would be so selfish.
“And this is our Mr. Rat,” said N, pointing at another photo. “He has a degree in computer studies from a technical college, and he works as a programmer at a small firm. He lives alone—”
As he reeled off Violet’s brother’s personal information, N kept clicking the mouse. More pictures appeared on the screen: the man leaving his apartment, going into the MTR, standing outside his office building.
“Wait,” Nga-Yee interrupted. “That photo in the restaurant—there was a Dragon Boat Festival poster by the entrance. But that was two weeks ago! How could you have taken that in the last couple of days?”
“I didn’t take that one,” N answered glibly.
“Where did you get it?”
“I have my ways. This one is ‘borrowed’ from a detective agency.”
“Detective agency?”
“Like I said, we’re in luck.” N grinned. “After you went home that day, I followed this guy and saw something interesting: someone was lurking in a black car, taking pictures of him with a long lens and checking what time he came home. I knew right away it was someone in the same line of work.”
“Oh?” Nga-Yee gaped.
“Most detective agencies in Hong Kong have asked me to work with them at one time or another. I’ve seen that license plate more than once and could even tell you which agency he’s with. Everyone I’ve ever done something for, I’ve put a back door in their computer system so I can go in and look at their reports. That’s how I got all that info, plus the photo you just saw.”
Nga-Yee recalled Detective Mok saying that all the detective agencies went to N when they encountered a problem they couldn’t solve.
“Who’s paying a detective to follow him?” Nga-Yee asked.
“Violet’s father.” N tapped the laptop screen.
“Why would he have his own son investigated?”
“Who said anything about a son?”
“Isn’t he?” Nga-Yee was confused. “Then Violet isn’t actually related to him? But you said on the phone … Oh! Do you mean he and Violet have different fathers?”
“No, same father, same mother. The thing is, Violet’s current father isn’t her biological dad. And To isn’t her real surname.”
Nga-Yee’s face was a picture of puzzlement. She wanted to ask a question, but didn’t know where to start.
“Violet’s mother
was a beautician. Back then, she was living with this shady guy, and had a son and daughter with him. They got together when she was seventeen. Then, at age thirty, she upped and left—probably realized she shouldn’t waste her youth on a man like that. That’s when she met Mr. To.” N gestured at the photo again. “That was ten years ago. She brought her five-year-old daughter with her and had the child’s name changed to her stepdad’s. That was Violet.”
“She loved her daughter more than her son, I suppose, and that’s why she only brought her along when she remarried.”
Nga-Yee wasn’t sure if “remarried” was the right word—it didn’t sound like she’d actually been married to the first guy.
“If she loved her daughter, she wouldn’t have abandoned her the second time around. The way I see it, she had a very selfish reason for keeping Violet with her: it would be easier to win a man’s sympathy with an adorable five-year-old in tow,” N sneered. “The marriage wasn’t even five years old before she got up to her old tricks and ran off with yet another man. Apparently this one was a stock market speculator—that is, a modern-day gambler. He may not have had more money or been able to give her a more stable life, but one thing she could be sure of: he wouldn’t be boring.”
“And Violet—”
“Stayed with her father. They’re not related by blood, but he’s her legal guardian.”
This was a more complicated backstory than Nga-Yee had been expecting.
“So the father hired a detective to find his missing wife?”
“Years before she abandoned her daughter and second husband, she’d already left her son behind. You think he could find her whereabouts from this guy?” N chuckled. “Mr. To didn’t even discover the boy’s existence until his wife vanished. His stepdaughter was meeting her brother behind his back. They’ve gotten closer, and I don’t think he’s happy about that.”
