by Chan Ho-Kei
They thanked the pathologist and left the morgue.
‘Commander, do you think that’s her?’ asked Ah Gut.
Before Lok could answer, a familiar figure appeared before him.
‘Sifu?’
Sure enough, Kwan Chun-dok was talking to a mortuary worker.
‘Ah, Sonny, are you here on a case?’
‘Yes, the body in Castle Peak Bay. We came to see if it was Candy Ton.’
‘And?’
‘We don’t know yet. She was in the water too long.’ He patted his briefcase. ‘But we managed to get some prints, and they ought to give us some answers. Sir, what brings you here?’
‘Same as you, the floating corpse.’
‘Oh?’
‘That Wan Chai sex trafficking case. A plea-bargain witness told us three prostitutes had been tortured to death, and one of the bodies is still missing.’
‘So we each hope this one belongs to our case,’ sighed Lok.
‘It’s our job to deal with other people’s misfortunes,’ Kwan smiled grimly. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time, I need to go have a chat with the pathologist too.’
Lok said goodbye, but he’d only taken a few steps before Kwan called him back.
‘Hey, I have some free time this week – come look me up, I’ll be home every evening.’
On their way back to Tsim Sha Tsui station, Ah Gut asked, ‘Commander, who was that older guy in the baseball cap?’
‘That was my superior when I was in Intelligence, former Superintendent Kwan Chun-dok.’
‘Kwan the genius detective?’ gaped Ah Gut. ‘The man who never forgets a place, and can identify a suspect just from the way he walks? The “Eye of Heaven”?’
Lok smiled inwardly. His mentor’s nicknames seemed to have spread throughout the entire policing world.
At the station, Lok handed the fingerprints over to the Identification Bureau. Their report came back at half past five that day.
The fingerprints of the corpse matched those of Candy Ton.
Once news got out that Ms Ton’s corpse had been found, the whole of Hong Kong was in an uproar. This was now officially a murder investigation. The nation’s eyes were on them, but the Crime Unit had nothing to report. Some thought Headquarters was going to intervene any day now, and since this looked like it might be an underworld revenge killing, the Anti-Triad Task Force might get involved too. Yet no officer ever wanted an active case to pass into someone else’s hands, because that would look like they couldn’t handle it themselves.
The following day, morale was low in the Crime Unit. As soon as he got off work, Lok drove towards Mong Kok, calling his mentor from the car. ‘Hello, sir? I’m on Nathan Road, heading towards your place...’
‘Ah, that’s unfortunate, I’ll be home late tonight. Why don’t you wait for me there? My wife is in, though she has a mahjong date at seven.’
Lok parked the car. Thinking it had been a while since he’d seen Mrs Kwan, he stopped by a patisserie and bought her half a dozen exquisite fruit tarts, then remembering her fondness for Mont Blanc, added a piece of that. Mrs Kwan was happy to see him – they hadn’t met since he visited the family home for a meal when he got his promotion, more than a month ago. She accepted his gift with pleasure: a treat for her mahjong buddies. Lok knew she didn’t have a particularly sweet tooth; her joy was at being able to show the other women how this young man was like a son to her and her husband, how much he cared for them. The Kwans were childless, and they really did treat Sonny like their son – and in return, he saw them as more or less his godparents.
After Mrs Kwan departed, Lok settled in to wait for his mentor. Kwan Chun-dok might be a retired superintendent, but his penny-pinching streak meant he and his wife still lived in a five-hundred-square-foot apartment. He had asked several times why they didn’t move to a larger place, but Kwan always answered, ‘A small place is easier to clean, not to mention keeping our electric bills down.’ Lok also admired Mrs Kwan for being willing to lead such a simple life despite her husband’s lofty position – but then if she’d been a materialistic woman, his mentor would hardly have married her.
As Lok sat on the sofa, his brain was busy with details of the Candy Ton case. The longer he sat there, the more frustrated he felt. Standing, he paced around the living room several times, and then went into Kwan’s study – the only other room in the flat apart from the bedroom. It contained a desk, two armchairs, a bookcase and a computer. Here Kwan would sit reading case files, combing them for clues before coming to his conclusions.
Lok looked listlessly at the large and small files on the shelf, then sat in his mentor’s chair. The wall was covered in framed photos, many of them faded, quite a few in black and white. The oldest one was by the window, showing Kwan Chun-dok in his twenties – Sonny knew this had been taken in 1970, when his mentor was in England for training. It was said that his outstanding performance in preventing a bomb blast during the ’67 unrest had caught the attention of his British superior, and that started him on his career as ‘genius detective’. Yet Lok had never heard Kwan mention those riots – in fact, he always avoided the subject. Lok guessed that his mentor didn’t like to brag, especially about an episode in which many officers had lost their lives, not to mention innocent civilians. Those who’d lived through it probably didn’t like to look back.
Kwan’s desk was covered in random objects, a confusion of documents and notebooks. The living room was impeccably neat, yet this place was as messy now as it had been a decade ago. Mrs Kwan had told him that her husband forbade her to touch anything here, and she wouldn’t want to anyway, lest she unwittingly prevent him from solving a case. And so the chaos remained year after year.
The clutter was unimaginable. Apart from the papers, there were pill boxes, a fountain pen, photographs, slides, a desk lamp, a magnifying glass, a microscope, test tubes, lock picks, fingerprint dust, pinhole cameras, a recording device disguised as a ballpoint pen, putty for copying keys... It might seem more like the set up of a private detective or spy than a police investigator, but knowing his mentor’s unconventional methods, it all seemed perfectly ordinary to Sonny.
In his mentor’s chair, Lok crossed his legs, imitating the position Kwan assumed when he was thinking. Picking up a glass vial, he played with it idly, again just as his mentor did. The vial held a single bullet, no doubt a souvenir of some case. Bullets were restricted items and shouldn’t be stored in this manner, but for someone as untroubled by rules as Kwan Chun-dok, that was a mere detail.
As Sonny rotated the vial, the bullet tinkled clearly against the glass walls. His gaze drifted aimlessly across the mess on the desk, but was abruptly arrested by the name on a manila folder, which pulled him back to full attention: ‘Yam Tak-ngok’.
Kwan Chun-dok’s file on Uncle Ngok, right there on his desk.
Although nosing around in his mentor’s papers would probably earn him a scolding, Lok didn’t think twice before flipping open the folder, intent on reading every word. Yet after only half a minute, he closed it again in disappointment. This was just a copy of Uncle Ngok’s official file. Lok had the exact same file in his briefcase.
He set aside the folder and was about to lean back in the chair, when six words in red caught his eye.
Below Uncle Ngok’s folder lay an envelope stamped ‘Top Secret: For Internal Circulation Only.’
He reached out for it and saw it was unsealed. Unable to bear the curiosity, he pulled out the papers inside.
Sonny had expected this to be classified material about Uncle Ngok, but a quick look showed it was something else altogether. This was something to do with the Witness Protection Programme – copies of letters between that office and the Immigration Department. Sensing that this was sensitive information, Lok was about to replace everything when a name caught his eye: ‘Chiang Fu’.
An unfamiliar name, except that it reminded him of Yam Tak-ngok’s words: ‘Your drug guys already have that fellow Chiang in th
eir hands, you don’t need to come after me too.’
This document was stacked together with Uncle Ngok’s folder – that was no coincidence. Sonny pulled it out again and scanned it quickly. The letter said someone named Chiang Fu was entering the Witness Protection Programme, and would need the Immigration Department to provide him with a new identity – the Police Commissioner and Chief Executive had already approved it. One of the pages was a response from the Immigration Department with a list of five names – four Chiangs and one Lin, probably all the same family – followed by different names in both English and Chinese.
‘Chiang Fu became Kong Yu, Lin Zi became Chiu Kwan-yee, Chiang Guo-xuan, Chiang Li-ming and Chiang Li-ni became Henry Kong, Holly Kong and Honey Kong...’ murmured Inspector Lok.
Then the sound of a key turning in the front door. Lok hurriedly stuffed the documents back into the envelope.
‘Sorry for the wait, Sonny,’ said Kwan Chun-dok.
‘No, no worries.’ Lok hurried out of the study.
Kwan looked narrowly at his protégé as he hung up his hat and stick, then bent to take off his shoes. ‘It’s fine if you’ve looked at the papers on my desk, just don’t say anything to anyone.’
Lok froze. Had he already given himself away?
‘You haven’t eaten, have you? Where shall we go? Ming-kee at the street corner has a special on roast goose. Or shall we call for takeout? I’m not overly fond of pizza, but I’ve got a Domino’s coupon that expires this week, it’d be a shame not to use it.’
‘Sifu, are you investigating Uncle Ngok?’
‘I’ve already told you I am. HQ Narcotics want to deal with him. He’s been trafficking huge quantities for the last decade or two, but they never had anything on him. Then last year, a witness agreed to testify against him. Looks like all our hard work finally paid off...’
‘And that was Chiang Fu?’ The name from that Top Secret document.
Kwan raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes. He’s Vietnamese-Chinese, involved in the South-east Asian drug trade, then turned Queen’s evidence. If the dealers in Vietnam find out he’s switched sides, his days will be numbered, so he and his family have been brought to Hong Kong and given new identities. I can’t tell you much more than that – to be honest, I’m already breaking the law by saying this much.’
‘Is Yam Tak-ngok worth this much effort? Even if you did nothing at all, Hing-chung-wo would eventually be taken over by Hung-yi Union.’ Lok paused. ‘Unless the witness also has dirt on Hung-yi... on Boss Chor’s drug trafficking?’
‘No, Chiang Fu’s evidence is only good against Uncle Ngok. The other names he gave us were already deceased.’
Lok wanted to say this arrest would just be for show, to make citizens feel the police were doing something. It wouldn’t help with the drug problem in Yau-Tsim at all. But he didn’t dare mention this in front of Kwan – after all, the head of Narcotics was his mentor’s old friend. Apparently the two of them had worked together in the 1970s, in the Kowloon Investigation Unit.
‘Sifu, was it Uncle Ngok’s men who killed Candy Ton?’ Lok changed the subject.
‘You’ve questioned him, haven’t you? What do you think?’ Kwan lowered himself onto the sofa.
‘I believe he’s not the mastermind. But I’m not sure he doesn’t have subordinates stupid enough to seek revenge for their Big Brother, and end up accidentally shoving Candy off a bridge.’
‘That would normally be a logical line of thought,’ smiled Kwan. ‘But if you still think that in the light of the facts already in your possession, you haven’t done your homework.’
‘What have I missed?’
‘You know Hing-chung-wo is a splinter of Hung-yi Union, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘And as Hing-chung-wo’s been getting swallowed up by Hung-yi in recent years, quite a few little ruffians have switched allegiance to Boss Chor, right?’
‘Sure.’
‘Uncle Ngok’s son got beaten up, but he issued an order for his underlings not to retaliate. You saw that?’
‘It was in the Intelligence report.’
‘Put those three points together. How many people do you think there still are in Hing-chung-wo who’d disregard their boss and go off on their own? Firstly, the young toughs wouldn’t have stuck with Uncle Ngok in the first place, they’d have gone with their kindred spirit, Boss Chor. Besides, anyone capable enough to organize this killing would have been poached by Hung-yi long ago. The remainder are surely fiercely loyal to their chief’s every little command. Even if he did have subordinates who were out of control, they’d go after Boss Chor, not Candy Ton – she’s nothing to them, and killing her just brings trouble to their organization and their boss. Hardly worth it.’
‘But it may have been an accident? They might just have wanted to rough her up.’
‘Then why were they armed with cleavers? Do you think they were planning to cut up some watermelons?’
Sonny recalled the flashing weapons in the video.
‘From the footage, it’s clear they were after her life from the start,’ said Kwan simply.
‘Then, sifu, do you think they weren’t from Hing-chung-wo?’
‘Sonny, I’m very tired right now, and there’s not much more to be said about this case. Just get more usable clues, make the witnesses testify, and you’ll be able to make an arrest. In these Triad cases, the mastermind is never directly involved, and you won’t find any material evidence linking him to the crime. That’s why you’ll have to find a witness. Just be patient.’
‘But, sifu...’
‘You’re an inspector now, there are some things you’ll have to decide on your own, and stop relying on an old fellow like me.’ Kwan smiled. ‘Believe in yourself. You were promoted because those above were confident of your abilities. Just trust in yourself, and you’ll be a good leader.’
Sonny started to say something, but sputtered to a halt, reluctant to ask more questions right after his mentor had effectively told him to stand on his own two feet.
Lok came away from the evening empty-handed. Kwan Chun-dok seemed largely uninterested in the Candy Ton case, and hadn’t brought it up again. With Narcotics preparing a case against Yam Tak-ngok, if he let anything slip – such as the current whereabouts of the witness Chiang – that might jeopardize the whole operation.
Lok left around ten thirty – in the old days, he and his mentor would have chatted till one or two in the morning, but with a pregnant wife at home he didn’t like to stay out too late. Before he went, Kwan patted his shoulder and said, ‘Sonny, try to relax. Don’t think about your cases all the time. Listen to music or watch TV after work – it’ll help you do your job.’
Despite this advice, all the way home Lok’s mind was still flooded with names: Candy Ton, Yam Tak-ngok, Eric Yeung, and others.
‘Hey, you’re still up?’ He walked in to find his wife propped up in bed. The TV was on, though she was busily reading a gossip magazine.
‘I was waiting for you,’ Mimi said, pretending to sulk.
‘It’s not good for pregnant women to stay up too late,’ he said, leaning in to kiss her.
‘It’s just eleven-something, how’s that too late?’ she teased him. The moment she’d told him she was pregnant, Lok had begun anxiously monitoring everything about her – her surroundings, food, drink, work and rest.
‘Would you like me to warm you some milk?’
‘I’ve had some, thanks,’ said Mimi tenderly. ‘You’ve been working hard all day, you should have a good rest. I’ve got your bathwater ready.’
Sonny shrugged off his jacket and glanced at his wife’s magazine, the latest copy of Eight-Day Week. The cover story was on Eric Yeung, with some old pictures of Candy.
‘If you keep reading such rubbish, it might affect the baby’s development.’
‘All my friends are talking about this. If I don’t keep up I won’t be able to join in,’ she retorted. ‘Poor thing, this girl, she was about to go work overseas,
then all of a sudden something like this has to happen.’
‘Going abroad?’ Lok had been about to say she deserved what she got, but suddenly realized he hadn’t heard this bit of news.
‘That’s right, my friend knows someone who’s related to an entertainment reporter, and apparently some big Japanese company took a fancy to Candy. They were going to snap her up with an enormous salary and turn her into a megastar across the whole of Asia.’
‘Doesn’t she have a contract with Starry Night? How could she just go like that?’
‘Oh? I don’t know about that...’ Mimi said thoughtfully.
Soaking in the bathtub, Lok thought about what his wife had said. If Candy Ton had really had the chance to jump ship it could be significant.
Back in the bedroom, he found Mimi had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Carefully picking up the magazine she’d dropped, he reached for the remote, but an instant before he could press ‘Off’, he saw something on the screen that sent a shock through his brain. Forgetting his sleeping wife, he turned the volume up.
‘...deeply grieved and outraged by Candy Ton’s tragedy. The death of such a talented singer is a loss not just for Starry Night, but for music fans all over Hong Kong...’
On the screen was a stern-looking man in an immaculate suit, a dozen microphones shoved in his face. The caption read, ‘Starry Night boss Chor Hon-keung returns to Hong Kong, speaks for the first time on Candy Ton’s death.’ Lok guessed this would have been a couple of hours ago.
‘Starry Night Entertainment condemns the violent criminal who did this. We’re furious that such a thing could happen, and urge the police to spare no energy in seeking the culprit. As for the rumours that Candy had been involved in some unpleasantness with Mr Eric Yeung, I’m not aware of this, but she was a simple, good-hearted girl, and I’m certain no blame could lie with her.’ His voice was measured, every inch the respectable entrepreneur.
‘Were you aware of the assault on Eric Yeung?’ asked a reporter.
