by Lee Weeks
64
He walked out of the room and down the stairs, carrying Becky in his arms. The alert would have gone up by now, he needed to hurry. He passed the bemused receptionist who had taken a shine to him earlier. One look from Mann told her not to touch the phones. He strode straight to the front. He carried Becky up to the trike riders. He threw his full wallet at a driver, grabbed his keys from him and slid Becky in the sidecar whilst he took off in a swirl of sand. He looked across at Becky. She was stirring. She looked a mess. Her face was bloodied and swollen. He wished the trike had gears, its max speed was thirty and that was on a downhill. He looked behind him. He could see a saloon coming at speed, hurtling down the sandy lanes behind them. Mann looked into the mirror. He saw Fat Harry sitting in the front, English Bob in the back, but the driver wasn’t Stevie. No sign of him.
They were gaining. Mann would have to outwit them. The road was busy. Mann drove up on pavements, took out fruit stalls. The car hooted for people to move. The trike was smoking, screaming. The road was straightening out, the car gaining. Then Mann turned the corner and saw the runway. To the left was the tank for the aviation fuel, to the right was the small row of hangers, and Remy was at the end of the runway, making his last-minute checks outside the aircraft.
Mann saw him focus on the trike, his scowl changing to a smile when he recognised the driver; and then it changed to a look of alarm as he heard the volley of bullets coming from the car that had just screamed around the corner in pursuit.
Remy jumped inside and started the plane’s engine. It cranked into life, spluttered, coughed, and then the propeller started turning. A second later Remy appeared, standing on the door frame of the pilot’s side, pistol in hand. He fired at the car and blew out the tyre. It caused the car to veer slightly away and swerve. Mann reached the plane, threw Becky inside and took the gun from Remy as he jumped back in the pilot’s seat and began taxiing along the runway. Mann jumped into the plane as it was moving and fired out through the open passenger door. The car was within twenty metres. The plane’s ascent was slow. Remy’s hands were strong and steady on the yoke as he gave it full throttle. Still it didn’t lift from the runway. The car was pulling level with the tail of the aircraft. Mann steadied his shoulder against the door frame, aimed and fired. His shot shattered the car’s windscreen. It swerved away momentarily. They came again. Fat Harry had a gun levelled at Mann. Mann had a choice: kill the driver, or kill Harry. Take out the dragon head, and the body will die.
Harry was thrown backwards by the shot. He had been hit in the face. The car skidded, the driver lost control; it was veering towards the far side of the runway. Remy pulled hard back on the yoke and the plane began to lift off. Mann had one shot left. He stretched one arm across the doorway and used it to keep his other arm steady as he aimed his gun at the fuel tank and fired. Three seconds after the bullet left the nozzle the tank exploded in a ball of fire; the heat buffeted the small plane as it lifted off the ground. Mann yanked the door shut.
Remy shouted to him from the pilot seat. ‘Is she alright? Look behind. There’s a medical kit on the wall.’
Mann took the kit down from its strap. ‘Thanks Remy. You’re a handy man to have around.’ He began a search for antiseptic and pads.
‘We should go to Manila airport, it is bigger. They could be waiting for us at Clark. No?’
‘Manila is best, I agree, Remy. I just need to get her cleaned up before she comes round and…’
When he looked back at her, her eyes were open. She was staring at him. He felt his heart rush for a second as he looked at her. ‘Hello babe. You had a rough time but you’ll be okay, tough nut. Come here.’ He eased her towards him and she rested against his chest. ‘It’s all right. You’re going to be okay.’
He could see by her expression that she was trying to piece together what happened. She lay very still for a few minutes.
‘Mann? Johnny?’
‘Yes?’ He kissed the top of her head.
‘Are they dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you.’
65
‘Is Becky all right?’
Father Finn was there to meet them at Manila airport, waiting for them on the apron. He was being blasted by the prop wash from the propeller as he opened the passenger door and stuck his head inside.
‘There is a doctor waiting at the refuge.’
Mann had telephoned ahead. The Father knew what to expect.
‘I’m all right, Father.’ Becky sat up and eased herself out of the seat. She hovered, dizzy, at the door. Mann held on to her and steered her out. Father Finn supported her when she got outside.
‘Thank you for coming to fetch us, Father,’ she said, squinting in the sunlight.
The Father held up his hands. ‘No trouble at all.’ His eyes were on her and then he reached out and hugged her.
‘Thank you, Remy.’ Father Finn waved goodbye to Remy; he was eager to make a fast exit—as always, he thought on his feet. ‘Now, let’s go. I need to talk to you on the way. These are very difficult times, no? Can you walk?’
Becky nodded but she was looking very pale and unsteady on her feet.
‘She doesn’t have to.’ Mann picked her up.
‘I will run on and get the Jeepney.’ Father Finn jogged across the car park and returned driving the Jeepney belonging to the refuge. It had slices of juicy-looking mango on the side and a Mercedes replica emblem on the front.
They left Manila airport and headed north. All three of them sat in the front. The back was filled with sacks of rice that would last the refuge several weeks.
Becky sat by the window and stared out. She had a scarf wrapped around her mouth to ease the pollution that bit the back of her throat and burnt her lungs. She closed her eyes. She knew she was safe now. Next to Mann, she always felt safe; she could close her eyes and rest.
They hit the MacArthur Highway northbound. The sign at the side of the road read:
No Dilapidated Vehicles
No Smoke Belchers
Father Finn glanced over at Becky and could see that she was resting. She wouldn’t hear him anyway—they had to shout over the noise of the traffic and the Jeepney had no glass in the windows. He did not want her to hear what he had to say in any case.
‘There’s been terrible news from Davao, Johnny. Wednesday is dead. Her throat had been cut. She had been tortured. Her body was dumped back at the entrance to the Barrio Patay. It was left as a warning to others not to come looking for their children.’
‘Why didn’t she wait for us?’ asked Mann, shaking his head with sorrow. ‘Such a bloody shame, Father. She deserved so much better.’
‘She was contacted. Someone frightened her into doing it. You should have seen her, Johnny—made my heart break. She had been scalped; there were cigarette burns all over her body. It’s the same cowardly way that those men always do it…But her legs were sliced through at the back, above the back of the knee, right through to the bone. I don’t know why they did that.’
‘She was hamstrung, Father, to stop her running to or from something.’
‘Jesus, mother of God.’
Mann felt his heart fill with an overwhelming sadness. To him, Wednesday had embodied all the hope and decency of someone who had dug themselves out of the gutter and made a new life for themselves. All she had asked for was a little help along the way.
‘Did anyone see who dumped her body?’
‘Yes, a boy, Pepe, he saw her body thrown from the car. He said it was a big Kano from Angeles. He told me that he had talked to him before. It was Pepe who had delivered the message to Wednesday to go and get her daughter. “Come without the priests,” the boy said they’d told her. You know who that is then, Johnny? It’s the Colonel. No one else hates me like him.’
‘That miserable fucking bastard will pay for this. Sorry, Father.’ Mann apologised for swearing.
‘Please…if I could say it, I would.’
The car fell silent a
s Father Finn concentrated on driving and farms replaced factories and the urban squalor. The land stretched out flat until it rose in the distance to the volcano beyond. They left the highway, to find houses crammed together in clusters at the edge of the road. They had no uniform style. The outsides were bright, gaudy and mostly looked half-finished. They were made from a variety of reclaimed and new materials: thatch-palmed roofs, corrugated iron and breeze blocks. Washing was hung over barbed wire and goats grazed beneath.
Mann had so much to think about. He needed to try and piece it together. Why had Becky been targeted? They hadn’t expected Mann back for an hour. They were taking their time, but they intended to kill her and leave her in the room. Otherwise they would have moved her straight away. It was not a kidnapping, it was a murder squad who thought they had time on their hands. But why Becky? Stevie Ho must be the reason. Those were Wo Shing Shing officers that Mann had killed. They were under orders from Stevie. But still, why Becky? Was it just because of her association with Mann? That was the last thing he wanted to believe, but it was the first thing that came into his head—yes, in my own way, I am responsible again.
Becky stirred as the noise from the road disappeared and was replaced by the sounds of insects and birds, then the noise of children laughing.
‘We are here.’
They turned into a steep driveway that led up to a large multi-level building. It was made of wood and had a large balcony at the front. ‘Welcome to the Angeles refuge.’
‘It’s a lovely place, Father.’ Becky smiled at the sight of the children all running out to greet them, as before.
‘We are lucky that we have permission to build over this entire hill, so many of the workers live just a minute’s walk from here, in their own houses. Mercy and Ramon, that you met before in Davao, have a lovely house just on the other side of this hill.’ They were surrounded by children immediately. ‘Here is Mercy…’
As she came to greet them, Mann thought how she looked bigger than ever. In just a few days her shape had changed slightly, the baby was resting lower.
Mercy looked at Becky, concern in her face. ‘You need to rest, come…’
‘No, please, I’d rather not.’
Mercy looked at Becky and read her eyes. She saw that she meant it. She needed distraction. She did not want to be alone to think about things.
‘Come, then, someone is waiting for you.’
From the corner of her eye Becky saw Eduardo standing apart from the others, waiting to be seen. She smiled and beckoned him over. He took her hand.
‘He is still traumatised. We have therapy sessions where the children are encouraged to let go of their feelings, cry, scream, whatever it takes, but he is still not ready. It is early days for him.’
Becky sat down next to him on the porch. His eyes were full of concern and his brow was furrowed as he looked at her battered face. She smiled, shook her head and pulled him closer.
Mann’s phone rang. He stepped out of earshot to answer it.
‘Yes, Ng?’
‘CK is on the move. He has been calling in officers from everywhere. He is preparing for battle. There are hundreds ready to go in London, Hong Kong and the Philippines. We have already had a few spark-offs here. Somebody tried to torch Miriam’s bar.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘She’s okay. Minimal damage, but the yakuza took it personally. Instead of stepping away from the fight they are stepping up to it. The place is buzzing with tension, Mann. I don’t think CK will back down, whatever happens.’
‘I still have till midnight.’
‘He doesn’t care about his daughter. He has been waiting for this day all his life.’
66
‘Yes, I understand what you’re saying—by tomorrow morning it will all be over, but, if I don’t hear from you, I will do what I have to.’
Suzanne was talking to Lenny. Amy could hear it in her voice. She must be talking to him because she was speaking English and it was in a softer, higher tone than when she talked to others. But Amy could tell she was irritable. After she had finished the phone call, Amy listened to her pace around the flat, and then she burst into the room making Amy jump. Amy was sitting at her table working on the necklace for Suzanne. She had constructed the best necklace ever. She had put a lot of thought into it.
‘Get off that chair and come here.’
Amy blinked hard, slipped her brace out of her mouth and surreptitiously slipped it into the bead box, hoping that Suzanne wouldn’t notice.
‘Yes, Suzanne?’
‘I’ve bought you some clothes to wear, put them on.’ She threw some things at Amy. Amy caught them full in the face. She was the worst catcher in the world. When they had to pick teams for netball she was always the last one to be chosen.
Amy picked them up and looked at them: two items—a denim mini-skirt and a white cotton stretchy boob tube.
‘They’ll be tight on you, but they should do the job. Put them on.’
Amy blinked up at Suzanne.
‘Go in the bathroom then, just get on with it.’
Amy disappeared into the bathroom and came out with the outfit on. Suzanne picked up the chair and dragged it to the centre of the room where there was good light and she could see what she was doing.
‘SIT.’
Amy did as she was told.
Suzanne pulled out her makeup bag from her handbag and began examining Amy’s face. She took off her glasses. Amy sat patiently whilst Suzanne made her up. When she’d finished, Suzanne sat back to admire her work.
‘There, that ought to do it…’ she giggled.
Amy didn’t know what to say. She was waiting to be given permission to move.
‘Well, go and have a look at yourself, and for fuck’s sake, don’t you smudge it.’
Amy got off the chair gingerly. She stared at her reflection. A pale-faced, rosy-cheeked doll stared back. Her eyes were blackened with kohl, her lashes long. Her lips were bright red. Amy’s eyes flicked back and forth over the image. It fascinated her. She reached to touch the mirror. It was true—it was her. She smiled and was alarmed that the girl smiled too. Boy, would her mummy be mad if she saw her looking like this!
Suzanne’s phone went off. It was Sunny, Amy could tell by the way she barked at him like a yappy dog. Amy stayed in the bathroom and continued to stare at her reflection. Something bad was happening. This wasn’t the usual.
‘Tomorrow morning it all kicks off. We move the merchandise over to the Filipinas’ house, and then we start the auction.’
Suzanne hung up, and Amy waited for a few seconds before she called out from the bathroom: ‘Suzanne? Have you got a different outfit? I don’t think it really fits me.’
Suzanne laughed. ‘It doesn’t need to fit you. Come out and let me see.’
Amy stepped gingerly out of the bathroom. The white top clung to her fat pointy breasts. The rolls of fat around her stomach meant that the skirt, which was supposed to rest on her hip bones, got snagged above her waist and stopped where it met her stubby, shapeless legs—it barely covered her square bottom. Amy tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge.
‘Thank you for doing my makeup and bringing me these clothes. Shall I make you a drink, Suzanne?’
Suzanne considered it, then she looked at her watch.
‘Why not? We have a long night ahead. Make it a weak one. I have loads to do tomorrow.’
Amy went into the lounge. She carried the bottle of gin and the tonic, a glass, a plate of sliced lemons all on a tray. Very carefully she came in; the tray was tinkling as the contents touched each other. Amy set the tray down.
‘Then, please, Suzanne, can I brush your hair?’
She began mixing the drink the way she had learned. But, tonight was different.
‘Pour yourself one too, Amy. Pour a gin out. Do it.’
Amy did as she was told. She made one drink for Suzanne and one for herself. She tasted it.
‘Yuk—that’s disgusting.’ She
shivered and stood with her stomach sticking out, making a face. She undid the skirt at the front and her stomach seemed to expand by six inches. ‘I feel sick.’
Suzanne giggled. ‘Do my hair now.’ She sat down and waited for Amy to get the brushes. Amy poured another gin for her.
‘You can drink, can’t you, Suzanne, because you don’t have to go anywhere this night. You have to sleep here.’
‘Yes, fucking Sunny and that new guy who never says a fuckin’ word, Pat, they’ve got something else to do—and I’m stuck here with you for company!’
‘I am sorry.’
‘So am I, believe me.’ She downed her drink.
Amy filled up her glass again.
‘And what the fuck have you done to that lamp?’ Suzanne stared at the wire frame of the raffia lamp.
‘Sorry, Suzanne, it just fell apart. I was touching it—I just noticed there was a thread—I started to pull…’
‘All right, all right—you don’t have to go into so much fucking detail. Thank fuck we won’t have to stare at all this crap for much longer.’
‘Can I go back to school, Suzanne?’
Suzanne laughed again. She was getting drunk, Amy could tell.
‘You’ll be learning something very important soon, believe me—now brush my hair and stop talking.’
Amy took long, even strokes as Suzanne closed her eyes and relaxed. Amy looked at the bottle of gin. It was two-thirds empty.
‘Can I tie your hair up on top of your head into a bun, Suzanne?’
