My soul slides away,
He ran Mr Sun’s story over and over in his head as he was driving. So Julia kills her husband to stop him from walking away with the black market cash, and leaving her with nothing.
But don’t look back in anger, I heard her say.
She knows that Sun will be quite prepared to keep his mouth shut for one last payday. Then, when the police put the heat on Sun she gets scared, calls up Don to help her out.
The story made sense but so did the other version, if Sun killed his business partner to stop him walking away from the store. So long as Julia was prepared to leave her money in the business they could complete the deal and both come up trumps. Both sides – both stories – offered the same thing: in on the deal with a partner he couldn’t trust. No, he hadn’t nothing to gain by switching sides now. What was Sun going to do about it, anyway? At least he knew where Julia was, could control her. She couldn’t disappear the way Sun had, it wasn’t in her to keep her head down. And she definitely needed Don, that much had already been proved. Sun may be tempted to go things alone.
The old man could go screw himself. The story changed nothing.
Don parked his old Toyota up next to the shiny red MG. He pulled the gun from his pocket and took a close look for the first time. It was a beautiful piece. Small enough for a lady’s purse, it held five cartridges. Four remained intact and the empty case for the round fired at the yanks’ hotel still sat in its chamber. The highly burnished metal sparkled in the light. Delicate etching traced the body, the cylinder and half way out along the barrel. The handle looked like pearl to Don. It could have been an old American piece for some fancy gambler or prostitute in the old west days, except for the jade inset. He only noticed it now, on one side of the handle. It was a small bird, a phoenix or something, in traditional Chinese style. On the bottom of the handle were stamped two tiny square looking Chinese characters and a year – 1904.
Don opened the glove compartment and dropped in the revolver. He didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on it, including the widow. He let himself into the house, walked through to the kitchen. Julia was in the garden standing barefoot on the lawn, staring into the grass or maybe at her own toes. For some reason, maybe just the way she was standing, it made him think of his sister when she was young. He hadn’t spoken to her since, when? His mum’s birthday, back in May. And before that it was Christmas. They’d be getting some good presents this year, he’d make sure of that.
Don knocked on the window. Julia looked up suddenly, startled, perhaps guilty. Well, she had a lot on her mind. So did Don. She waved to him, a sad smile on her face, but stayed where she was. In the sitting room, Don checked the time on his phone. Mr Sun’s time limit was up. He put the phone back in his pocket, retreated back upstairs with Moby Dick. He didn’t get much reading done. Again, the waiting. That was the hard part.
When she came upstairs later he could smell the gin.
He said, “I was thinking we might go out to eat tonight. Get an early night tomorrow. What do you say?” He didn’t want to wake up with a hangover on the day of the deal. Not again.
“How? Do you have any money?”
“Uh, no. I guess not.”
“Well neither do I. The cards are maxed, and there’s only spare change left in the bank.”
Don realised how much he’d been leeching off her. He hadn’t really thought anyone who owned a house like this could run out of money.
Julia stared down at the floor, thinking. She looked at Don again. “I know. Come on.”
She led him downstairs, grabbed a couple of bottles of wine and a corkscrew from the kitchen, carried them out to the MG. This time she sat in the driver’s seat, gave him the bottles to hold.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
She drove them down the hill and into Happy Valley proper. From there she took them further along the busy main roads until Chai Wan, the north-east tip of the Island. Here the MG pulled up outside an upmarket burger place.
“Wait.” She disappeared inside and emerged five minutes later with a large paper bag which she again gave Don to hang onto.
The smell of burgers filled the car. It masked the gin on her breath as she drove them on the quieter lanes into the national park and further south. Don worried that she was too drunk to drive, but she handled herself just fine, for now.
Past the Country Club, to the little beach they had visited last week. Parked up above the sand, the sun almost gone. The sky faded from light blue to a deep navy above their heads and deepest black behind them. Straight out to sea the moon was almost full. The waves and the gulls were the only sound. There was one other car in the car park, but no other person in sight.
Julia took a bottle of wine while Don brought the bag with their meal. She popped the cork and drank from the bottle, leaning against the still warm bonnet of the car, gazing out to sea. A few boats were crawling out toward the horizon, big tankers. Over to the right, a yacht gently bobbed on the water without going anywhere. She said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. You’re right, it is.”
She took another swig of wine and passed him the bottle. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”
They ate in silence, passing the wine back and forth. When she was done, Julia grabbed the bottle, jumped down the two feet or so onto the sand, almost falling over. A splash of red leapt out to soak into the beach. She giggled and jogged toward the water. “Bring the blanket,” she called over her shoulder. So she hadn’t been too drunk to remember coming here last week, he thought. He bet she didn’t remember leaving.
He set the blanket on the sand and lay down to watch the widow splashing in the waves. The white breakers washed up to her knees and the bottom of her dress was getting wet. She seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of designer clothes – real top quality. Well, she knew how to dress and she liked to look good. In the gathering darkness, he watched the wind whip her hair around as she walked up the shoreline and back. Yeah, she looked damn good. And Alexander Fong had looked damn good stood next to her, until his luck ran out.
Until he tried to leave.
68
Julia waded deeper into the water, up to her waist, with her dress billowing around her and the wine bottle held high over her head. She was drunk. Her laughter carried back to Don on the wind.
Eventually she started back up towards him. Five yards away she stopped. “Oops, wet knickers.” She reached under her dress and peeled them off, nearly falling over. “Well, I won’t be needing these.” She tossed them over her shoulder. She was still laughing as she collapsed on the blanket next to him, panting for breath. The sky was now dark, and the stars were shining through a thin layer of cloud above them.
She offered him the last gulp in the wine bottle but he refused. “I guess I’ll have to drive us back.”
“Fine then.” She tossed the bottle into the darkness. “Come here.”
She grabbed him, to pull herself up onto his lips. He obliged for a second, then pulled away. He looked around, but the beach was theirs. “Maybe we should be heading back.”
“Oh come on, Don.” She tried to kiss him again. “You haven’t touched me for days.” She pulled his hand onto her breast, he yanked it back.
Her mood turned instantly. She slapped him across the face. “You bastard.” Her face was pale and furious, her lips pursed and blood red. “I’ve given you everything. What am I now? Damaged goods?”
“Look, you’re drunk. We should get you home.”
She slapped him again. For a moment he almost raised his hand, but stopped himself.
Don stood up, started back towards the car. She was crazy, getting out of control. Julia ran after him, tugged at his arm. “Wait, Don. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She pulled him round to her, tears on her cheeks. Her emotions had changed again, with the wind. “I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his chest. Her murmurs came up to him through his shirt. “
I just want to feel loved. I want you to love me.” She looked up at him. Those big brown eyes. “What’s wrong, Don? I can feel it, something’s wrong.”
She didn’t take rejection easily. Maybe it was time she got used to it. He started back towards the car, stopped, turned back to face her. She stared at him, tear streaked and drunk and forlorn. He should’ve walked away. But he couldn’t. Or he should’ve made love to her, here on the sand. Anything to keep her happy until the deal went through. Anything except tell her what he was thinking.
“I know you killed your husband.”
69
That stopped her. She stood there, shoulders slumped, sand clinging to her wet dress, sand in her hair.
“You’re right.” Finally, the truth. “Yes, I did.” She was finished, defeated. She walked up to Don, took hold of his arms. “He betrayed me. He was going to walk away and leave me with nothing, just toss me aside like a broken toy.” Her eyes met his. The wine had brought out her melodramatic side. She was breathing hard now, struggling against further tears. “I shot him and left the gun in his hands. I put the photographs on the desk and left. And now I have nothing. If you walk away from me, I have nothing at all.” She wrapped her arms around his body, her ear against his heart.
“So why wouldn’t you do the same to me?”
A sob escaped her lips, as she tried to gulp it back inside. “You don’t have to trust me Don. I understand that. But I promised to tell you everything, and I will, now. Please just listen to me.” She pulled him by his hands. He found himself dragged back to the blanket.
Julia opened the other bottle as she started to tell him all about it. How her husband had told her he was leaving, that they had no money. He was divorcing her, she would get nothing but debts. He said he had proof of her infidelity when he was the one who had denied her a physical relationship. As she sipped at the wine, she told Don how Sun Wen-Long had helped her get evidence against her husband for the divorce. Then Sun went further. It was he who came up with the plan, to kill him, to stop Alexander Fong from walking out on both of them. And she had gone along with it out of desperation. Sun picked the hotel, acquired the drugs, gave her the gun. And she didn’t know what else to do but follow the plan he had given her. If she didn’t, she lost everything.
For a long time Don sat in silence and watched the waves while Julia lay beside him. They passed the bottle back and forth. When it was almost empty, she told him the last part of the story. How the police had suspected Sun Wen-Long. How Sun had disappeared, tipped-off by the one of the staff when the police raided the store. How she, not having anyone else to turn to, had rung Don because she was too scared to go through with the deals alone.
“I don’t know what will happen, afterwards. But I need you, Don. If you want to stick around, I want you to stay with me.” She looked up at him. A sad smile, “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” And, more seriously, “I’ll do anything you say, Don. Anything. You’re in charge. Just, please don’t walk away.”
She took the bottle from him, sipped at it. Her eyes were red from crying, her cheeks red from wine, her mouth from smeared lipstick. They finished the bottle but sat for a while, watching the waves relentlessly washing up the shore. And finally, he leaned into her, kissed her. For the second time they made love on that short stretch of beach.
70
He’d given up on Moby Dick with Ishmael not even out of the docks. He couldn’t concentrate on it anyway. Julia pottered around from the sitting room to the garden and back again. They didn’t have to say anything. They both knew there was only one thing on each other’s mind. Don worked out. A jog, skipping, weights, a session on the punch bag. This time he hit it harder. Plaster dust floated down from its fitting in the ceiling. He took a long shower and the time didn’t seem to have gone anywhere at all.
“Nerve wracking, isn’t it?”
He nodded. She turned her head towards him. “It will be okay, won’t it? Tomorrow, I mean.”
Well of course she meant tomorrow. What else did they have? “Sure it will. It’ll be just fine.”
They hadn’t talked about afterwards, since the beach. That was too far away, right now. Neither of them knew what would happen afterwards. Well, Don didn’t know anyway. Maybe the widow hoped that he would be sticking around, that they would be together. But as far as he was concerned, that was something they had yet to face.
His mind was speeding with nothing to fix upon. There was nothing to prepare, nothing to sort out, no arrangements to be made. There was just the waiting. He poured himself a large whisky, lit a cigar from the box – not too many left, now. Finally he sat, blank-faced, allowing time to trickle across him. And the next thing he knew it was morning and Julia was awake beside him, watching him from her pillow. He looked into her eyes. She was nervous, shy, excited, all at the same time. It was Saturday morning. It was the day of the deal. By the end of today, they would be rich.
71
They made sure someone was with the phone at all times. It was charging in the sitting room. After they had eaten she showered while he sat on the sofa, smoking and chewing at his nails. He took the opportunity to check the handbag she had left on the coffee table. House keys, car keys, some miscellaneous. But no gun, no weapons. She was clean.
Julia came back down wearing the black and cream dress she had been wearing the day he watched her through the iron fence. Her hair was pulled back from her face and hung down the back of her neck. He knew it was a considered choice. She thought about the image she projected very carefully, so why not today of all days? She wanted to look important, powerful, strong. Like somebody who had connections. She looked like a first lady. Attractive, sure. But somebody you didn’t want to fuck with. It almost worked except for the nervous expression on her face and she could deal with that later, perhaps. She sat next to him and lit a cigarette. They watched the silent phone.
Finally, the widow put her hand on his arm. “Don?”
He turned to her. She was worried about something. “What is it?”
She looked down, studied the hem on her dress. “Do you want me with you? I mean, do you want me to go along to the deal? I’d understand, if you said no.”
“Do you trust me to go alone, and return here with the money?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Of course I do. I trust you darling. With all my heart.”
He watched her waiting for his reply. Of course, it would be easy to skip out on her. But what would he do next? Take it to Uncle Wang and lose fifty percent on an exchange deal? Or maybe lose it all? He didn’t trust her much. He didn’t trust Wang at all. There weren’t really any options. He ran it all through his mind one last time, but the decision was already made. “Of course I want you to come.” She smiled at him, relieved. “I need you there.” Yeah, for a start he couldn’t carry all those bags on his own.
They resumed watching the phone. Ten o’clock. It could be any time in the next twelve hours, Don thought to himself. If nothing had changed. If nothing had gone wrong. He swore under his breath. Not at anything in particular. Just at the situation they were in, the tension in the room. He picked up a cigarette and took it out into the garden. When he returned nothing had happened. Sat back on the sofa, he continued to swear quietly. This was ridiculous; they couldn’t just watch the phone all day. But of course they could. Of course they would. What else?
He went back out to the kitchen, took the briefcase from the cupboard. There were its three tiny yellow inhabitants, sat in the foam base. His eyes followed the markings of the strange script. What did it say? Julia told him it was the story of some king or other. Battles, Don guessed. Victories and wives, lands conquered and enemies slain, and finally death. And so history would have something by which to judge you.
Well, that was great for those who could afford to have their stories carved into gold. Everybody else just passed without comment, their lives unnoticed, their stories silenced. To the victor the spoils, and history is written by the winners;
that’s what people said. Don wanted to be a winner. He damn well deserved it this time, and he wasn’t going to let anybody stand in his way.
All the years, all the sweat, all the blood.
And finally…
The phone rang.
Don closed the briefcase. It was time to say goodbye to the tablets, and hello riches. He strode to the mobile on the bookcase as the widow sat frozen on the sofa. Don turned on the speaker phone. “Hello?”
“Listen carefully, and just say yes or no. Do you have the goods?”
A man. An American. He knew that voice. “Yes.”
“Do you know the Trade and Exhibition Centre in Kowloon Bay?”
The voice seemed so familiar, it was like an itch at the back of his brain. Who was it? “In Kowloon Bay,” he echoed. “Yes.”
Another voice appeared, quiet in the background. It sounded like a woman but Don couldn’t quite make anything out.
Briefly, they heard a muffled exchange. Don guessed a hand had been placed over the phone. Then the American continued, “Opposite the exhibition centre is an open air car park. Go there at one o’clock and wait for my call. Do you understand?”
It clicked in Don’s head. He knew. Don knew exactly who he was speaking to.
“Yes.”
The man hung up but Don knew who that voice belonged to. Not only that but he knew who the woman was, as well. And that was the most surprising thing.
Julia relaxed into the sofa. “So, now we know. One o’clock.”
Don looked at the clock on the mantle. It was just after ten-thirty. That gave him over two hours. “Do you know the place he’s talking about? The exhibition centre and the car park?”
“Yes, I know it.”
Don unplugged the mobile. He checked the pockets of his jacket. Yes, he had his own phone, car keys, everything. He added the phone reserved for the deal. “I have to go out for a while.”
All Blood is Red Page 15
