by Albert Able
“This one?” he smiled with apparent satisfaction.
“OK gentlemen let’s go fishing,” Dick sighed and returned his attention to the navigator, made an adjustment and looked ahead. “About half an hour at a guess,” he announced, his mind still trying to work out just what these people really wanted.
f
Having just enjoyed a breakfast of - according to the Room Service menu - “freshly mixed exotic fruit juices, a selection of home-made bread and pastries, butter and conserves”, Alex Scott sat looking out over the busy harbour, leisurely drinking a second cup of tea.
The hundreds of large and small craft transfixed him as they managed, apparently without hitting one another, to manoeuvre in and around the teeming harbour. Of course, from the comfort of his luxury hotel balcony, he couldn’t hear the barrage of shouting and curses.
His mobile bleeped. “
Good morning Alex, Ling here.”
Alex returned the greeting.
“I have some information that is worth looking at,” Ling continued. “Can you meet me on the waterfront in a few minutes?”
“Just say where,” Alex replied easily.
“Good. Right opposite your hotel you’ll see an estate agent’s office. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“That’s fine, see you there,” Alex agreed, taking a final gulp of his tea and returning the mobile to his pocket.
He wandered down to the lobby and out and into the sunlight. Instantly aware of the searing heat and deafening traffic noise, he looked in vain for a pedestrian crossing. Undeterred, he following some locals, who simply took their lives in their hands and stepped into the path of the slowest looking vehicle. Then, amidst the sound of screeching tyres and the blast of a multitude of horns, he scrambled to the other side.
“I’ve lived dangerously most of my life,” Alex greeted Ling as he entered the estate agent’s office, “but crossing that road was the riskiest thing I’ve done for years!” He shook his head in genuine wonder.
Ling laughed.
“Then let me tell you, I think that your trip to Hong Kong is going to get even more exciting. Here, sit down.” They were in a tiny air-conditioned interview room. “I asked my cousin at the harbour office if he knew of any unusual shipping movements.” Ling noted Alex’s look of concern. “Don’t worry - you can take my word that he’s definitely one of us,” he reassured Alex before continuing with his information. “The derelict part of the old docks was to be redeveloped as part of a vast project, planned to go ahead if the lease extension for the Hong Kong and New Territories had been agreed. In the event it was not, so the area remains a ghetto for smugglers and rogues. Last month a small site was cleared and fenced off, apparently by the military. There have been a few visits by a small coaster but none of the dockings were recorded. The traffic was noted by my cousin, simply because his apartment looks out over that particular quay. Such unregistered movements are not unusual in this part of the world and nowadays no member of the general public really cares.”
“So what’s your idea? Where is this quay? Can we go now?” Alex sensed a thrill at this fortuitous piece of intelligence.
“First my cousin will show us the site from his apartment, then if you think it’s what you’re looking for, we take a closer look tonight,” Ling said, leaning towards Alex. “I guessed you’d be interested - so I told him we’d be there before eleven - it’s a fifteen-minute taxi ride.” Ling looked at his watch and stood up. “Shall we go?”
“Lead the way,” Alex willingly accepted the invitation.
They pulled up outside a large and rather tired looking apartment building. There were at least ten floors. Alex made a private bet with himself that the lifts would be out of order. He was right; they looked as though they hadn’t been working for some time.
“We take the stairs yes?” Ling nodded knowingly.
The rusting external stairs, which doubled as the “Fire Escape”, zigzagged up the gable end of the building. They climbed to the fifth floor.
Ling’s cousin waited at the entrance to the floor.
“Oxygen?” he offered. “Hi I’m David,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.
Alex shook the hand. David didn’t look oriental to him.
“David is a cousin on the European side of the family,” smiled Ling, noticing Alex’s mild surprise.
“Pleased to meet you,” Alex smiled, still puffing in spite of his fitness. “How long have the elevators been out of action?”
David looked saddened.
“About two weeks. You see under the new regime, some things work and others don’t and taking responsibility for maintenance in an apartment block is not, it seems, on anyone’s list of priorities,” he smiled. “Still it keeps me fit.”
“David, please show us the dock area we talked about and tell Alex what you know about it,” Ling brought the conversation back to the business in hand.
“Over here.”
David moved to the window and pointed towards a sprawling collection of derelict looking buildings. Many were quite obviously occupied.
“Hundreds, possibly thousands of people simply squat over there. Many operate little businesses making things to sell, earning enough to stay alive. If you look over here,” he pointed towards the quay, “you can see that an area has been fenced off and the roof on that old warehouse has been patched up.”
Alex could the roof repairs and noted the bright yellow mobile crane parked close by. Otherwise the dock appeared to be deserted.
“I’ve seen at least two different coasters working at that quay recently. I checked with the harbour log - they were not registered. Of course that’s not entirely unusual - many independent water traders come and go without any paperwork. Some are legal local traders; others I’m sure are not. It’s almost impossible to manage the thousands of movements inside a large harbour like this,” David waved his hand in a hopeless gesture.
Alex accepted the binoculars Ling produced from his brief case.
“Here, try these,” he said simply.
Alex nodded his thanks and looked into the lenses. He was silent for a moment as he studied the fenced area. “There doesn’t seem to be anything obvious to me.”
He passed the glasses to Ling, who also studied the site for a while.
“I have to agree,” Ling said after a couple of minutes, “but perhaps we need to be a little closer?”
“I’m going into the office now so I’ll have a quiet dig round for any new information on the area.” David volunteered. “I’ll call as soon as I have anything.”
Later that day David called Ling.
“It certainly is a mystery. The records have undoubtedly been tampered with. I can’t find any current evidence of any current or historic contracts for those buildings or the quayside facilities. In fact, as far as the harbour authority records are concerned, that area simply doesn’t exist,” he concluded.
“Thanks for that David. Perhaps you will keep your ears and eyes open for anything else unusual?” Ling rang off and called Alex to relay the information.
That evening they met near David’s apartment block. Ling carried a small holdall. He greeted Alex with a grin.
“See I’m a good Boy Scout, ready for anything.” He patted the bag.
They walked the five hundred metres or so to the fenced area in silence. Stopping near the wire, they surveyed the buildings and quayside. There was no sign of life. Cautiously, they walked the perimeter. At one point they discovered that the wire finished against the decaying wall of an ancient building. Circling around the gable, they found that the wire started again on the other side.
“Strange there isn’t any sign of life on this side of the fence either,” Alex commented in a whisper as they stopped by the edge of the quay to assess their findings. “Looks as though there’s only one entrance in the whole circuit and the warehouse is completely isolated from the perimeter, except of course where it joins the remains of the old bui
lding,” Alex concluded, looking back. “I suggest that we take another look.”
They gingerly retraced their steps. There had once been a door but that had been replaced with a new piece of heavy shuttering ply, screwed firmly into place. The only window was broken and boarded up from the inside.
Peering into the darkened alcove next to the door, they stumbled on the body of a man. Well at first they thought he was dead but when Ling touched the prostrate form with his foot and the face looked up at them with a start they were as stunned as he was.
“What do you want?” the body squeaked meekly in Chinese.
“What are you doing here?” Ling snapped back in the same dialect.
The man tried to stand up but was clearly in pain. Without speaking, Alex stepped forward to help the man to his feet. Though hesitant at first, he accepted the help.
“I was...I was hiding from you,” he replied defiantly, stretching his aching limbs.
“Why?” Ling asked, curious.
The old man looked away.
“I used to live opposite here,” he said sadly, pointing to a heap of rubble a few metres away. “But they knocked down all the buildings when they took over the dock here.” He pointed to the fenced area.
“When was this?” Ling urged gently.
“About six months ago.” The man looked frightened. “You anything to do with them?” he asked nervously, nodding in the same direction as he tried to walk away, an expression of fear in his face.
“It’s OK,” Ling tried to assure him, “we have nothing to do with them - or the authorities for that matter. We mean you no harm - so you can relax.”
The man stopped, still wary but curious.
“I haven’t seen anyone, other than local people, since they fenced this off,” the old man queried. “So what are you doing around here then?” But his defiance wilted when he heard Alex speak English.
“What’s it all about Ling?” Alex asked impatiently.
“Hang on a minute Alex - he may have seen something useful. I’ll ask.” Ling turned to speak but the man answered in perfect English.
“You’re English?” the old guy asked Alex, curious. “Some of those are English - well they speak English. I’ve heard them talking,” he went on, visibly tensing as he spoke.
“Yes I’m English but not one of those, OK?” He indicated with his thumb. “Look how can we help you? Do you need food? A doctor or something?” Alex offered, trying to sound reassuring.
The old man hesitated for a moment then, seeming to have made up his mind that he was not about to be mugged or worse, replied, “Thank you but I can manage and I suggest that you stay away from these people. They are dangerous and evil. Two bodies have been washed up here recently; I’m sure they had something to do with it.” He looked about furtively. “I just drifted down here in a sense of remorse. Do you know when they pushed us out of the house they didn’t give us time to collect anything other than our cooking pots and a few sleeping things. The bastards!” He scowled and turned to leave when the lights of an approaching vehicle flashed across the empty quay.
It was a small pickup truck. The driver stopped at the fence, jumped down from the cab, opened the gate with his key, then drove into the enclosure and across to the large roller doors of the warehouse.
“Come on,” whispered Alex, “he’s left the gate open.”
Alex led the way through the gates with Ling the old Chinese following close behind. They turned along the line of the fence then hunched up and tiptoed into the shadows of the warehouse just as the driver opened the roller doors and switched on the lights. The rattling of the opening doors easily disguised any noise made by Alex and his followers. The man strolled back to the gates just as another much larger lorry appeared. He waited, then closed and locked the gate behind the lorry before walking back to the warehouse.
Alex, Ling and the old Chinese waited for the right moment then slipped unseen into the warehouse. They had just managed to conceal themselves when the driver of the lorry jumped to the ground from his cab.
“Good timing Philippe,” he remarked to the pickup driver.
“Not just good, essential. You know what the controllers are like!” he replied seriously.
Alex froze at the mention of “controller” - that was undoubtedly Syndicate terminology. Ling, recognising the term as well, raised his eyebrows and looked around. Alex, nodding understanding, held his finger to his lips, indicating silence; at that moment another person climbed down from the passenger side of the lorry. He was different from the two drivers: more smartly dressed, he carried a natural air of authority.
“You’re so right Philippe. Now perhaps we can pack this stuff into the container before the others arrive.” The man held a clipboard with a sheaf of documents pinned to it. “I want everything properly checked and stowed before we leave tonight. There’s a chance the ship could be here a day early. OK?”
In the next hour, four more heavily laden lorries arrived. Their crated cargoes were carefully unloaded, checked against the clipboard man’s list and then stacked into the containers neatly parked in the warehouse. At about two-thirty in the morning the last lorry arrived, was unloaded and departed, leaving the original man from the pickup and the man with the clipboard.
“I’ve just had a call. There’s been some trouble so I want double security here until the ship is loaded and sails, understand?” the clipboard man ordered.
“Yeah, yeah - don’t worry. I’ve organised my eight men to patrol the fence from inside and two others the outside. I’ll organise the relief shift to be here by five o’clock. I think I know where I can get a team of good dogs as well, if you want?”
The clipboard man agreed.
“Better safe than sorry eh?”
The pickup man walked outside as he punched the keypad on his mobile phone. Moments later he returned.
“OK, we’ll have a twenty-four hour dog patrol starting at about eight o’clock; I’ll be back in time to sort them out.”
“OK, I’ll be here about the same time then. We can’t afford any problems.” He switched out the main lights; several smaller lights remained on permanently illuminating the packed containers. He pressed the door close button. The door rattled down, finishing with a metallic clatter. With the door closed and locked, the two men let themselves out through the heavy steel side door.
There would be no outside lights to attract unnecessary attention but armed guards would be patrolling the wire fence, flashing their powerful torches into suspicious nooks and crannies.
Cramped and tired, Alex and his colleagues stretched and stepped from the shadows.
“Well that ‘s bloody incredible - albeit uncomfortable,” Alex exclaimed quietly, rubbing life back into his cramped legs. “You’ve hit the jackpot in one!” Excited by their early success, he thumped Ling on the shoulder. “You and your cousin certainly earned your corn today,” he added, pulling his mobile phone from his pocket at the same time. “Bloody thing kept vibrating, telling me I had a call. Glad I put it into mute mode or we’d have had some unwelcome attention!” Grinning happily, he pressed the message waiting function. Three Messages, it announced.
“All three from your brother David. I wonder what he wants,” he said, pressing Text Message. Alex stared in disbelief at the message:
They’re onto me! Help. David.
“Christ Ling - something’s gone wrong! Look!”
He passed the instrument over.
Ling paled as he read the short message.
“Those bastards,” was all he hissed. “We must do something!” Ling pleaded.
The other two messages were repeats of the first. He must be desperate, Alex thought. “The first problem is, how do we get out of here, especially with those guards swarming all over the place?”
He looked about, feeling a little helpless.
“That will not be a problem gentlemen,” the old Chinese interrupted softly. Alex and Ling turned in unison to face the voice. Th
ey had almost forgotten he was there.
“I think this will help.”
His face set in a faint smile, the old man was holding up a key.
It was the key to the small hatch where they’d found the old man hiding earlier. In fact he’d been in the process of unlocking it when they’d disturbed him.
“I told a little lie actually. You see that old building where you found me was once my house. I was trying to get back in through the goods hatch to see if they’d left anything useful. Come on let’s see if we can open it from the inside.”
They soon found the hatch behind a pile of discarded timber and rubbish. Ling took the key and put it into the lock. To their great relief, it opened easily. Surprised, he tentatively pushed and the hatch opened without a sound.
Peering cautiously into the darkness, Ling could not see or hear any sign of the guards. He looked back at the others, gave the thumbs up and eased himself through. Alex squeezed out next, followed by the old man, who carefully relocked the little door before piling some broken boxwood and some discarded sacking in front of it.
“Follow me,” the old man whispered. They obeyed without question as he trotted across the rubble to vanish in the labyrinth of decrepit buildings. The old Chinese eventually stopped.
“On you go gentlemen,” he panted, catching his breath. “At the end of this lane, turn right and you’re back on the main waterfront. I’m going home - I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
Alex thanked the old man.
“We’re going to have to go back in there because our job is to destroy those weapons. Will you help us?”
The old man smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Alex’s arm. “You can count on me.” He looked across the road. “You see that café?” he pointed. “You can leave a message there when you need me. Just say you want to talk with old Ming-Ho,” he smiled. “Get away now. Your other friend needs you.”
They thanked him again and left, heading at a jog to David’s apartment. Alex shuddered at the thought of David being in the clutches of a Syndicate “Enforcer”. He knew their ruthless regime showed no quarter to those who challenged or betrayed their objectives.
