by Chan Ho-Kei
‘But why did I have to do this? Just because you’re my mentor?’ said Lok, after a long silence.
‘No, because you have two particular characteristics – you’re willing to step up to the plate, and you have excellent deductive abilities. The fewer people who knew about the real plan, the better – that was the only way to keep it a secret from two old hands like Boss Chor and Yam Tak-ngok. Only someone with your skills would deduce the “truth” about Chor’s guilt from the faint clues I laid. And only someone with your courage would stand up to him. It’s not easy to find someone like that. The police force today is full of timid fellows who only care about their careers. God knows what’ll happen when they’re in charge, whether all the hard work my generation put in will be wiped away. When that time comes, brave idiots like you will be in for a lot of trouble...’
Once again, Lok had no idea if he was being praised or made fun of.
‘Uncle Ngok will have heard about your little chat with Boss Chor by tonight,’ grinned Kwan. ‘Tomorrow he’ll hear that Chor Hon-keung wasn’t arrested after all, and he’ll think that once again Chor has pulled some strings to get off the hook. When that happens, if someone glib enough explains what’s in it for him, he’ll turn into the prisoner who betrays his fellow.’
Lok was about to ask who this glib fellow might be, when he realized it would surely be his mentor himself.
‘Then earlier, when I brought Chor to the police station, he must have thought...’
‘He must have thought you were about to frame him – to use fake evidence to force him to confess,’ Kwan finished his protégé’s sentence. ‘He must have thought it was someone from Hing-chung-wo who killed Candy, or else some other gang who had a grievance against him. He might even have wondered if it was some of his own men acting independently, for the reason you suggested – to give Hung-yi an excuse to go after Hing-chung-wo – or even to land him in trouble. He knows he’s innocent, but he’ll have started wondering if he’s been deceived by his lieutenants. Clever Boss Chor wouldn’t say any of this out loud, but he’ll go back and quietly investigate them one by one. Still, as I said, I think he’ll see through your bluff, and you won’t get a rise out of him in the next few days.’
Lok shook his head with a grimace. He’d never have thought even his own deductions were part of his mentor’s plan. In front of this man, he appeared no more than a high-school student trying to show off.
He suddenly remembered the other thing that was puzzling him. ‘Right, so why has Candy Ton turned into Chiang Fu’s daughter?’
‘Candy had two choices after her “attack” – she could let everyone think she’d been dragged away by the thugs, only to be miraculously rescued after Boss Chor had gone down for trafficking drugs and conspiring to kill informants; or she could do what she’s doing now, which is to vanish completely.’
‘Yes, that’s what I chose,’ said Candy. ‘I don’t miss my old self – I was willing to give everything up, for the sake of revenge. And I never liked the entertainment world.’
‘Of course, the fact that Candy’s death was faked won’t appear in the report, so we might as well let her start life again with a new identity.’ Superintendent Kwan shook his head admiringly. ‘Chiang Fu was instrumental in delivering Uncle Ngok to us, and he in turn is going to finger Boss Chor. We had no choice but to take the entire Chiang family into Witness Protection, so I slipped Candy’s information in with theirs. There was never such a person as Chiang Li-ni. Chiang Fu doesn’t know anything about this either. And so I’ve been able to get Candy a new legal identity as Honey Kong. Two layers of false identity should be enough to make Candy Ton disappear from the face of the earth.’
‘Sifu, there’s still one thing I don’t understand,’ said Lok, brow wrinkled. ‘Was it also you who released the video on the internet?’
‘Of course. If the news hadn’t gone viral, the plan couldn’t have gone ahead. Images are far more powerful than words – Uncle Ngok would have to see it for himself.’
‘Why give me the CD a day before that?’
‘Sonny, you’re my protégé,’ said Kwan tenderly.
Inspector Lok understood. His mentor could easily have put the video out in the world right away, but that would have left the Crime Unit dealing with media inquiries, investigating and gathering evidence, all at the same time. By giving him the CD ahead of time, Kwan had bought them a day’s head start – a breathing space.
‘Sifu, I give up – you’ve had me in the palm of your hand all along,’ sighed Lok. Then he smiled. ‘Ah, and where did you find a hacker good enough to post the video from Switzerland and Mexico?’
Kwan winked at the closed door behind him. ‘Just don’t ask how she made the money which bought this Italian sofa your bum is resting on.’
*
‘Sifu, what should I do now?’ Kwan and Lok were back in the car, heading to the station.
‘Your team should keep a close watch on Boss Chor’s gang – just continue with your plan,’ said Kwan from the passenger seat. ‘I’ll look up Uncle Ngok tomorrow. I’ve got it all prepared. Just wait and see what a chef like me makes out of these ingredients.’
‘But sir, didn’t you have any other way of getting Yam Tak-ngok to do what you wanted? Why such an elaborate scheme? Candy Ton’s murder will wind up as an unsolved case, which makes the police look bad.’ And me as well, he added silently.
‘Because I wanted to get Candy away from Boss Chor as quickly as possible,’ replied Kwan. ‘Every day she spent in Starry Night put her in more danger of being found out. Fortunately, Chor didn’t notice Benny had contacted her, but if her father’s identity had come to light, it’s a sure thing he wouldn’t have let her off. Never mind that she was his highest-earning star, never mind that she’s just seventeen – he’d snuff her out regardless. As well as bringing Boss Chor to justice, this was also a rescue mission. The police force exists to protect citizens, and even if she was willing to sacrifice her life, I wasn’t going to stand by and see a teenage girl go to her death.’
Lok felt a sense of release at this response. His mentor was happy to use all kinds of underhand tactics to get to his goal, but he valued every single human life.
*
Events played out exactly as Kwan Chun-dok said they would. Two days later, Yam Tak-ngok voluntarily provided the police with vast quantities of information about Hung-yi Union, including evidence of Boss Chor’s drug dealing. In order to secure immunity, Chor’s foot soldiers then lined up to give away their boss. There wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute them all, but the police had more than a good haul. Apart from Boss Chor, several of the Hung-yi top brass were arrested, including Fat Dragon, the dealer who had evaded Inspector Lok before.
Candy Ton’s case was suspended because of insufficient evidence, but public opinion was that Boss Chor must have been the mastermind. Lok knew Chor was innocent, but was happy with this result. He’s escaped punishment for many lives he did take, so let him have the blame for one he didn’t, he thought.
Two months later, Lok and his mentor went back to Miss Koo’s apartment to see Candy Ton. As Lok pressed the doorbell, Kwan explained that the front door was fitted with a camera, and his face would have appeared on her screen right away. Lok wondered if her room was fitted with a self-destruct mechanism – something to wipe her computers at the touch of a button.
‘You’re... Candy Ton?’ Lok could barely recognize her, with her hair cut short and dyed brown.
‘I’m Honey Kong, Inspector,’ she corrected him.
‘Ah, yes, Honey Kong, Honey Kong...’ he repeated.
‘Just call him Sonny, Honey. Honey and Sonny – a perfect pair,’ teased Kwan.
‘At least call me Brother. If I were a few years older, I could be your fath—’ He stuttered to a halt.
‘It’s fine. I’m happy that Daddy’s case has been reopened – and it’s all thanks to you. Brother Sonny, you don’t need to worry.’
‘What are your pl
ans?’ asked Lok.
‘I’m just waiting for the moment when Boss Chor gets found guilty. After that, I’ll think of something. Newton’s very good to me – she’s letting me stay here for free. I help with the housework, and sometimes step in as her assistant.’
‘Newton?’
‘Miss Koo. “Newton” is her handle on the net. Pretty cool, don’t you think?’ interjected Kwan.
Lok was about to advise Candy not to get too close to Miss Koo, because after all hackers operated outside the law – but then thought she might be eavesdropping on them that very minute, and bit his tongue.
‘There’s some sort of infectious disease spreading, and the government’s urged everyone to stay home, but let’s go to a restaurant for dinner. Honey, you don’t get to leave the house very often, do you?’
Candy shook her head delightedly. Sonny realized the way she was now, open and frank, was the real Candy Ton.
‘Isn’t there a danger someone will recognize her?’ Lok looked her up and down. Her hair had changed, she was wearing glasses and no make-up, and a decidedly unglamorous cardigan and sweat pants. It seemed unlikely anyone would notice her, but still he worried.
‘Just hide behind this.’ Kwan plucked the baseball cap from his own head and popped it onto hers. She pulled the brim down a little and smiled bashfully from underneath.
At the gate, as Candy kicked off her house slippers and pulled on sneakers without bothering to put socks on first, Lok noticed something odd. ‘Honey, why have you only painted three of your toenails? And why black?’
‘After Daddy’s case was reopened, it came out that apart from the five men who took him away, the bar owner and Boss Chor, two dealers and a bar worker were also involved,’ she said. ‘Only Boss Chor and the dealers have been arrested so far. The other seven men are still on the loose. I’ve painted my toenails black to remind myself of unfinished business. As each killer is brought to justice, I’ll paint another nail...’
Lok could see in her eyes that this battle for revenge was only just beginning. He hoped he’d be able to catch the remaining culprits before too long, to finally release Candy from this war. After all, the people battling evildoers should be the police, not victims’ families.
He wanted to promise Candy he’d do this for her, but said nothing in the end. Because Inspector Lok knew that justice consists of actions, not words.
III
THE LONGEST DAY:
1997
1
TO MOST HONGKONGERS, 6 June 1997 was perfectly ordinary. Two days previously, there’d been heavy rainstorms and some localized flooding, but things were back to normal now. The weather was sultry as always – even though the sky had been hazy since morning, with occasional showers, and the temperature showed no sign of dropping. Fire broke out in a West Point apartment block in the small hours, and a truck full of chemicals overturned during the morning rush hour, creating a serious traffic jam on Des Voeux Road in Central, but for most people, 6 June was just a normal Friday.
For Kwan Chun-dok, though, it was anything but normal. This was his last day of service.
He’d been on the police force for thirty-two years, and now, aged fifty, Senior Superintendent Kwan was preparing for a glorious retirement. His time actually ran out in mid-July, but he’d accumulated a month of leave which, according to police regulations, he’d have to take before departing. Just as well – if he were still on duty come July, the force would have to give him a whole new appointment letter and uniform badge. After the handover on 1 July 1997, the Royal Hong Kong Police Force would become simply the Hong Kong Police Force, the St Edward’s Crown on its crest replaced with a purple bauhinia flower. It wasn’t that Kwan was particularly attached to the word ‘Royal’, it just seemed a waste to go to all that trouble for something he’d use for less than a month.
Kwan Chun-dok had been working at the Criminal Intelligence Bureau for the past eight years as Commander of Division B, which was in charge of analysing intelligence materials such as surveillance videos and wiretap recordings. His team members were at less physical risk than other members of the force, for example their colleagues in Division D, tailing suspects who might be armed and violent, or Division A, who went on stakeouts and handled informants whose loyalties were always in question, or even thenewly-established ‘Hit Team’, which carried out arrests. Yet the psychological pressure on them was higher, because they were aware that every single result of their analysis could be responsible for the success or failure of an entire operation. They’d all seen examples of intelligence going wrong – underestimate criminals’ firepower, and cops would lose their lives as a result. The slightest oversight, even of a seemingly insignificant detail, could have tragic consequences. Frontline officers could adapt to a situation and make decisions in the heat of the moment, but Division B had to make all its choices ahead of time, and afterwards could only reflect on its errors – which it would never have the opportunity to correct.
Kwan Chun-dok both loved and hated his position. This unit had given him a chance to explore all his strengths. At the heart of Police Intelligence, he had a finger on the pulse of every case in Hong Kong. His insight helped other departments succeed and saved frontline lives. Still, Kwan didn’t like that he had to rely on others passing intel to him. Before this, he’d been with regional Criminal Investigation Departments and Crime Units where he could operate on his own, searching for clues at the scene, getting first-hand testimony and evidence. During his eight years in Intelligence, he’d sometimes had doubts about the interview transcripts handed in by other departments. Why hadn’t the officer pursued a particular line of questioning? Why hadn’t they investigated this or that corner?
‘Am I better suited to being at the scene?’ he wondered from time to time. But he knew this was wishful thinking – especially after the age of forty-five, when his body wasn’t as nimble as it used to be. Being on the front line meant confronting criminals directly, and he was very aware he no longer had the energy for that. It was better that he put his brain power to use instead.
Besides, he was too high-ranking to be allowed anywhere near the front line. Only inspectors and junior police officers actually carried out operations. Anyone with a gazetted rank – from superintendent up to commissioner – would instead be in charge of planning, deployment and so on. Kwan knew he’d taken on too much in Division B, and in recent years had tried his best to delegate to his team, only intervening at key moments to point out gaps in their analysis. To his eyes, most clues were fairly obvious, but his subordinates always gaped at him until he explained his reasons – or confirmed his ‘conjectures’ after the event – when they’d happily agree with his logic.
This was another reason why Kwan Chun-dok was retiring at the age of fifty. He could have stayed on for another five years, till compulsory retirement age, but he knew remaining in Intelligence would hinder the growth of his subordinates. Intelligence was at the core of the force, and if Division B couldn’t function without him, they’d endanger the entire police body.
‘...and that was the report from customs.’ It was half past nine in the morning, and Chief Inspector Alexander Choi of Division B Team 1 was updating Superintendent Kwan in his office. Division B was split into four teams, each with an inspector at its head, and Kwan allocating their duties. Team 2 had the day off, Team 3 was assisting the Commercial Crime Bureau on a case of insider trading, and Team 4 was working with the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau on an undercover operation to stop West Kowloon secret societies from infiltrating schools. Team 1 had just concluded an op two days previously, break- ing a smuggling ring together with the Customs and Excise Department.
‘Good.’ Kwan nodded, satisfied. Alex Choi was in line to take over when he retired, an appointment Kwan was pleased about – Choi was methodical in his management of personnel, and had a warm relationship with his counterparts in other departments.
‘Team 1 is following up on reports that two Big Circle Men
entered the territory illegally four days ago.’ This was a common phrase in Hong Kong meaning outlaws from Mainland China. Choi handed over a folder containing two blurry photographs of the Big Circle Men in question. ‘Informants indicated they might have concealed firearms, and might be planning to strike during the Handover, when we will be at our busiest. Background reports show both men have prior convictions for armed robbery, and their target is likely to be a jewellery or watch shop. Initial investigations have ruled out the possibility of terrorism.’
‘That’s an unusually small number of people,’ commented Kwan.
‘Yes, we suspect someone else is masterminding, or else that local organizations are involved, and these two are just mercenaries for hire. They probably don’t know we’re watching them.’
‘Do we have a location for them?’
‘Yes, they’re at Chai Wan, probably the industrial area near the cargo docks.’
‘Nothing more precise?’
‘Not yet. There are too many empty buildings around there, and ownership is a big mess. Looking into every suspicious venue will take some time.’
Stroking his chin, Kwan said, ‘Move quickly. I’m afraid they won’t wait till the end of the month.’
‘You reckon they’ll do something in the next couple of weeks? But tourist season doesn’t hit its peak till July, and shops will be holding much more cash then––’
‘But I can’t ignore that there are only two of them,’ Kwan cut in. ‘If one of them’s the mastermind, he wouldn’t have brought just one other person to Hong Kong with him. He’d need a driver and two more accomplices, at the very least. Mainland gang leaders never arrive here without a full team – they don’t recruit locally. Whereas if they’re hired muscle, then the mastermind must be a Hongkonger – but he wouldn’t have summoned them unless the plans were all laid and ready. Something must be imminent.’
