The Borrowed

by Chan Ho-Kei

  ‘Inspector Wang, long time no see.’ Kwan clipped his police badge onto his lapel, signalling the uniformed officer guarding the cordon to let him and Sonny in. Wang turned around and froze for a moment before recovering and walking towards Kwan.

  ‘Superintendent Kwan, how...’ he began hesitantly.

  ‘Team 1 was too busy, so I’ve come in person.’ Kwan gave him the files. ‘Rather than fax these, I thought I’d just hand them over.’

  Inspector Wang almost asked how Kwan had known to look for him at the scene, then remembered he was talking to the ‘Eye of Heaven’, Kwan Chun-dok of the CIB.

  ‘So sorry to have troubled you,’ he said, shooing his subordinates away. ‘I understand Shek Boon-tim’s case is important, but we can’t ignore what’s going on here. It’s similar to the two Mong Kok incidents, but far more serious. The culprit flung four bottles of corrosive liquid – we’re lucky no one’s died from their burns, as of now.’

  ‘Same as in Mong Kok, Knight Brand Drain Opener?’ asked Kwan.

  ‘Yes, exactly the same, though we haven’t been able to determine if it’s the same person or a copycat. We’ll have to rely on the CIB to...’

  ‘We haven’t said anything yet, so you can’t go blabbing to reporters.’

  ‘Ah... right.’ Wang looked a little embarrassed.

  Kwan understood the unspoken agreement between the departments. If Inspector Wang made any public statement before receiving the CIB’s analysis, the Hong Kong Island Crime Unit would bear full responsibility. If he made a guess and his conjecture turned out to be wrong, he and his subordinates would be in for some harsh criticism from the top brass, but if he equivocated, the public would think the police were powerless, and the morale and reputation of the Crime Unit would take a hit. If he had the backing of the CIB, however, it didn’t matter whether he got it right. As long as the Crime Unit presented a unified front, any fallout would land on the CIB.

  ‘Have you determined where the suspect was standing?’ Kwan asked.

  ‘We’re fairly certain. This way, please.’ Inspector Wang led Kwan and Sonny to a tenement building at the junction of Wellington and Graham Streets.

  ‘It seems two bottles were first thrown from here towards the stalls on Graham Street.’ Wang pointed at the tenement roof, then at the road, where his officers were busy searching for evidence. ‘The crowd naturally ran in the opposite direction, but he was waiting for them – two more bottles were flung in the direction of Wellington Road.’

  ‘All from the same rooftop?’ Kwan looked up at it, five storeys above.

  ‘We believe so.’

  ‘Let’s have a look.’

  The three men trooped up the stairs to a roof terrace painted mud-yellow. This building had lain empty for two years. Previously, it had been an apartment block, with a well-known provisions trading company operating on the ground floor. A property developer had acquired it, but hadn’t yet managed to buy the old buildings on either side. The ultimate plan was to tear all three down and put up a thirty-storey skyscraper in their place.

  Kwan Chun-dok stood at the edge of the roof, looking at the two streets below, then walked to the other side and stared at the neighbouring buildings and roofs. He went back and forth several times, spoke for a few minutes with the investigators who were gathering evidence, then carefully inspected the tags they’d placed on the ground, finally walking slowly back to Inspector Wang without a word.

  ‘What do you say, Superintendent?’ asked Wang.

  ‘It completely fits,’ said Kwan. Sonny realized that although Kwan was giving Wang a straightforward answer, there was something nuanced about his expression.

  ‘It’s the same culprit as Mong Kok?’

  ‘Seventy... no, eighty per cent certain.’ Kwan looked around once more. ‘The two incidents in Mong Kok also involved buildings like this, with connected rooftops and no security. The second case in particular was like this one – the culprit chose a corner building, attacked one side first to create chaos, and then the other. The media only reported that “two bottles of acid rained from the sky”, and didn’t mention the details – yet this modus operandi is exactly the same.’

  Kwan pointed at a canvas covering that had clearly been seared by the liquid. ‘This happened last time too – throwing an open bottle onto a stall’s awning so it bounced and sprayed, causing even more damage.’

  ‘Which means this fellow’s come to Hong Kong Island to make mischief,’ sighed Inspector Wang. ‘Probably after they increased security on Ladies’ Alley, he couldn’t operate there any more, so we have a change of location.’

  ‘The case file I just gave you contains a few video stills,’ said Kwan. ‘You might already know that our suspect in the Mong Kok case is a plump man. We’ve put out a call for him as a witness, but he’s likely to be our guy. CIB doesn’t have the manpower at the moment, but you could look through the security footage from around here, see if you can spot him.’

  ‘Understood, Superintendent.’ Wang opened the folder and glanced at the images.

  ‘What’s the latest figure for casualties?’

  ‘Thirty-four, three serious – one still in ICU, the other two probably requiring surgery. Minor injuries for the rest – they were mostly splashed on the arms and legs, and discharged after treatment... though they’ll be mentally scarred.’

  ‘Who are the three seriously wounded?’

  Wang scrabbled for his list of names. ‘The one in ICU is Li Fun, an old guy – he’s sixty – who lives alone on Peel Street, round the corner. He was at the scene to buy groceries, and got hit directly in the face. He’ll probably never see again. He already had high blood pressure and diabetes, so the prognosis isn’t optimistic.’

  Wang flipped a page and went on. ‘The other two are stall owners, both male. Chung Wai-shing, thirty-nine, known on the street as Brother Wai. He runs a small plumbing and electrical business. The other is Chau Cheung-kwong, forty-six. He sells flip-flops from his market stall. Both were direct hits, like Li Fun – injuries to the face, neck and shoulders. Is this useful, Superintendent?’

  ‘Might be, might not be.’ Kwan waved his hands vaguely and smiled. ‘Ninety per cent of the details in any incident are useless, but if you miss anything in the other ten per cent, you’ll never crack the case.’

  ‘I guess that’s an article of faith for Intelligence?’ Wang smiled back.

  ‘No, just me.’ Kwan rubbed his chin. ‘I’d like to walk around, is that all right? I won’t get in the way of your team.’

  ‘Of course, go right ahead!’ Wang could never say no to someone so many ranks higher than himself. ‘I have to get ready to read a statement to the press. Can I say the CIB believes there’s a good chance this is the same perp as Mong Kok?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Great, thanks.’ Having gained Kwan’s consent, Wang began running through what he might say to the assembled journalists. Kwan walked back outside, with Sonny following closely behind.

  The police had sealed off thirty metres each of Graham and Wellington Streets. Apart from the investigators assiduously gathering evidence, the scene contained only the carnage of that morning. Overturned stalls, vegetables trampled into mush, and black spots where acid had scorched the pavement. Sonny imagined the scene hours ago, and thought he could still detect the acrid stench of drain cleaner, the malevolent chemical smell seeming to spread nauseatingly all around them.

  Sonny thought Kwan wanted to have a closer look at the damage to the stalls, but was surprised to see his superior heading straight for the police line.

  ‘Commander, don’t you want to inspect the scene?’

  ‘I saw enough from the roof. I’m not looking for evidence. What I need is the Intelligence Unit,’ said Kwan, not breaking his stride.

  ‘The Intelligence Unit?’

  Kwan stepped outside the cordon and looked around, then said to Sonny, ‘There, found it.’

  Following Kwan’s line of sight, Sonny saw a che
ap clothing stall. Outmoded women’s fashions dangled all over the counter, and a rack of hats in various colours and styles stood nearby. Three women sat on folding stools in front of it, chatting away. One of them, in her fifties, had a money pouch around her waist and was probably the proprietor.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ said Kwan to the trio. ‘Police. May I ask you some questions?’

  Her two companions looked alarmed, but the woman with the money bag remained calm. ‘Officer, your colleagues came by ages ago! I guess you want to ask if I’ve seen any suspicious strangers? I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, this is a tourist area, we see strangers all the time.’

  ‘No, I wanted to ask if you’d seen some unsuspicious friends.’

  The woman was stunned into silence, then burst into howls of laughter.

  ‘Ah, Mr Policeman, are you serious? Is this some kind of joke?’

  ‘Actually, I meant the victims. Three of them are in a serious condition – two stall owners and a resident. I’m asking around the area to see if anyone knows them.’

  ‘Then you’ve come to the right place. I’ve had a stall here twenty years, I can even tell you which high school Porky Wing from the corner’s son got into. So I heard the serious cases were Old Li, Brother Wai, and Boss Chau with the slipper shop. A bolt from the blue – they were perfectly fine this morning, and now they’re lying in the hospital,’ she sighed.

  She’d got all three of them right away – no wonder the superintendent called her the Intelligence Unit, thought Sonny. There’s always a gossip queen in these marketplaces, sitting in the same spot morning and night, nothing to do as she tends her stall but people-watch and chat with customers and neighbours.

  ‘So you knew all of them— Oh yes, what should I call you?’ With a show of familiarity, Kwan pulled up a chair and sat down.

  ‘Call me Auntie Soso.’ She pointed at a sign nestled amongst the gaudy clothes and hats: ‘Soso Fashion’. ‘Old Li and Brother Wai have been here more than ten years, but Boss Chau I only met recently. The slipper stall owner before him emigrated to Canada, and Chau took over just a few months ago.’

  ‘Old Li was sixty-year-old Li Fun?’ Kwan said, for the sake of confirmation.

  ‘Yes, Old Li from Peel Street. I heard he was buying some vegetables from Fatt Kee when he got it right in the face. Horrible...’

  ‘Hey, I don’t want to talk behind his back,’ interrupted the woman to Auntie Soso’s left, ‘but if Old Li wasn’t such a lecher, he wouldn’t have been flirting with Fatt Kee’s wife while Fatt Kee was busy elsewhere, and then he wouldn’t have got hit with the acid.’

  ‘My goodness, Blossom, don’t talk like that in front of the officer! Old Li was a randy old goat, but you can’t actually think he and Mrs Fatt Kee had a thing going on,’ Auntie Soso scolded, only half joking. Sonny thought this Li Fun must have been quite a womanizer to be dallying with younger women in the marketplace. He probably didn’t have a good reputation.

  ‘Li Fun was a regular? He came here every day?’

  ‘That’s right, rain or shine, Old Li would be here getting his groceries. We’ve known him at least ten years,’ replied the third woman.

  ‘Do you know if he has any vices? Or if he’s had any money issues, grudges, that sort of thing?’ asked Kwan.

  ‘I haven’t heard anything like that.’ Auntie Soso tilted her head to one side and thought about it. ‘He’s been divorced a long time now, and doesn’t have any kids. He might dress shabbily, but he owns several apartments and earns more than enough in rent. As for grudges, he’s always chatting up Fatt Kee’s wife, so Fatt Kee can’t stand him, but I don’t know if you could call that a grudge.’

  ‘Do you also know the other victim, Chung Wai-shing?’

  ‘Sure, Brother Wai, he’s the handyman on the corner.’ Auntie Soso gestured towards the cordoned-off area. ‘He wasn’t at his stall often, mostly he was out making house calls. Who’d have thought the one day he happened to be here, some psycho would fling acid at him. The best laid plans...’

  ‘Brother Wai’s a nice guy, I hope he gets out of the hospital soon! His wife and kid must be so worried,’ chimed in Blossom.

  ‘You’ve known him long?’

  ‘Pretty long. Brother Wai’s been on Graham Street more than ten years now. He’s good at what he does and doesn’t charge too much. If anyone in the neighbourhood has an odd job, like changing a tap, putting in a water heater, fixing a TV aerial, they look up Brother Wai. I think he lives in Wan Chai, and his wife works part-time at the supermarket. Their son’s just started high school,’ said Auntie Soso.

  ‘Sounds like Brother Wai was popular.’

  ‘Yes. No one cared much when they heard about Old Li, but when word got out Brother Wai was in the hospital, the whole neighbourhood was on edge.’

  ‘Which means Brother Wai was an upright citizen, with no dark secrets?’

  ‘I guess... not,’ Auntie Soso stuttered, exchanging glances with Blossom.

  ‘So there’s something?’ Kwan looked curious, as if gazing straight into Auntie Soso’s heart.

  ‘Well... Officer, this is just a rumour, take it with a pinch of salt. Brother Wai’s a nice guy, but I heard he’s been to prison. It seems in the past he was involved with those secret societies. Then when his father was on his deathbed, he turned over a new leaf.’

  ‘He installed my air conditioning once,’ said Blossom. ‘It was almost thirty-five degrees that day, so he took off his shirt, and there on his back was a green dragon flashing its claws and teeth. It gave me a bit of a shock.’

  ‘So he didn’t mind other people seeing his tattoo,’ said Kwan.

  ‘Um, I guess not.’ Auntie Soso dismissed the suggestion. Sonny thought Brother Wai probably didn’t care who knew about his past, and it was these three gossips who were prejudiced.

  ‘And finally, Chau Cheung-kwong...’

  ‘So that was Boss Chau’s full name?’ interrupted Blossom.

  ‘I think so,’ said Auntie Soso. ‘I seem to remember it was something Kwong.’

  ‘I guess you don’t know Boss Chau very well.’

  ‘We haven’t known him long, that doesn’t mean we don’t know him well,’ snapped Auntie Soso, as if he’d impugned her professionalism. But then, reflected Sonny, gossip more or less was her profession, and selling clothes just a pastime.

  ‘Boss Chau’s spot is just beside mine.’ She leaned forward and pointed to her left. Sonny and Kwan glanced over at a little stall covered in flip-flops in a multitude of styles and colours. ‘I believe I know him better than anyone else on Graham Street.’

  Kwan had to suppress a laugh before he could ask, ‘And you said Boss Chau has only been here how many months?’

  ‘He started this March, I think. Boss Chau’s a solitary one. He says hi and bye, but never comes over for a chat.’

  ‘I bought a pair from him once. Asked if he had them in a smaller size, and he had the nerve to tell me to go look for myself,’ said Blossom. ‘His assistant Moe seems more like the boss – I heard he was a nephew of Chau’s who couldn’t find a job and ended up helping out with the stall.’

  ‘Had Moe recently graduated?’

  ‘Not by the looks of him. He’s a shrimp, but has to be in his late twenties, maybe thirties. I bet he was fired by his last boss and had to scrounge a job from a relative.’

  ‘Is Boss Chau often not around?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that, he’s here almost every day. But it’s Moe who opens and closes the stall, and Boss Chau only shows up for two or three hours. Sometimes Moe doesn’t show up, and then the stall stays shut all day,’ said Auntie Soso.

  ‘My guess is Boss Chau’s the same as Old Li, a landlord with rent coming in. His market stall is just to pass the time.’ Blossom sucked her teeth, contemptuous of rich and poor alike. ‘He disappears on race days – he’s quite the gambler. And the day before, he’ll be too busy clutching his form to pay attention to anyone.’

  ‘Oh, even w
hen there isn’t a race on, he still ignores everyone!’ jeered Auntie Soso.

  ‘Hang on,’ Sonny asked abruptly. ‘How was Boss Chau hurt? His stall’s over here, but the attack was on the other end of the market.’

  ‘He and Moe were fetching a delivery. Trucks can’t drive through the market, so we have to fetch everything from the road in handcarts. The trucks park either on Wellington or Hollywood.’ Auntie Soso pointed in both directions. ‘I said hello to Boss Chau and Moe just this morning. They said they were going to move some stock, and next thing you know, disaster struck!’

  ‘And Moe hasn’t been back?’ Kwan asked Auntie Soso, eyeing the neglected flip-flop stall.

  ‘Blossom saw him get in the ambulance with Boss Chau. I guess there wasn’t time to pack up the stall. We’re all neighbours, so I’ll do it for him later on, but to be honest, there’s not much worth stealing at a little stall like that.’

  ‘And you? Did you see the incident take place?’ Kwan turned to Blossom.

  ‘You could say I did. I was in the dry goods store on the corner, chatting with the shopkeeper, when suddenly there were two enormous crashes outside, and then people screaming in pain, rushing into the shop demanding water. We filled some basins and handed out bottles to everyone coming in. Their arms and legs were covered in the stuff, it burned right through their clothes. When it quieted down, I summoned my courage and stepped outside. There was Old Li, lying by the side of the road, and Fatt Kee’s wife pouring water over his face.’

  ‘Did you see Brother Wai and Boss Chau?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I turned the corner, and saw the whole scene. Brother Wai and a few others were hiding in the incense store, and when I got closer, there was Boss Chau coming from the other direction, leaning on Moe, screaming for help. He and Brother Wai were in terrible shape, and there was weeping and wailing all around. It was hell on earth, truly hell on earth.’ Blossom spoke with animation, waving her hands around.

  ‘That sounds bad...’ groaned Kwan.

  ‘Officer, are you going to ask if anyone had a grudge against Boss Chau?’ Auntie Soso raised one eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so, but if you’re going to ask about bad habits, I really can’t say. Do the police think someone had it in for these men? I’m good at keeping secrets, you can tell me, I won’t breathe a word.’