The Borrowed

by Chan Ho-Kei

  ‘Ah, Commander, you’re back?’ Sonny noticed Kwan in his office, sorting through personal documents.

  ‘Is that you, Sonny?’ Kwan glanced up from beneath his baseball cap, then went back to the papers. ‘I could have delayed this a few days, but I wanted Alex to get his office as soon as possible – he’s the new commander, you know.’

  ‘But didn’t you write up the investigation yesterday?’ Sonny thought this case was so complicated, only Kwan would be able to produce a report that made any sense.

  ‘I’ll do that at home, in my own time.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Sonny suddenly thought of something. ‘Yesterday, O-Crime said they’d arrested two people in Chai Wan – so that’s the long-haired man and the real Chau Cheung-kwong. But what about Sze Wing-hong? I didn’t see any news about him being caught.’

  ‘He wasn’t arrested,’ said Kwan simply.

  ‘But why not? He’s just as guilty.’

  ‘Benny will deal with him.’

  ‘Benedict Lau? Superintendent Lau from Division A?’

  ‘Yes, I told him to send someone to talk to Sze, and force him to turn informant.’

  Sonny stared in confusion at Kwan. Just when he thought he had a handle on this case, this turncoat was being given a free pass.

  Looking at Sonny’s expression, Kwan explained, ‘Sze Wing-hong is an inside man, but he’s not the only one in Correctional Services. Arresting him alone wouldn’t do any good.’

  ‘You think there are others?’

  ‘Sze’s duties didn’t normally bring him into contact with Shek. There must have been a whole network for them to get in touch, which means Shek has other stooges amongst the guards. Sonny, do you know how I was so sure there was an inside man?’

  ‘Wasn’t it Sze Wing-hong’s video evidence...’

  ‘Not just that. It was the time.’

  ‘Time?’

  ‘The acid attack took place at five past ten, at exactly the same moment Ng Fong got the order to send Shek Boon-tim to hospital. That’s too much of a coincidence. The prison authorities might not have allowed Shek to go to hospital at all, and even if they did, it would have been hard to say when. So it must have been someone on the inside who waited till that order came, then sent the signal for Moe to go into action, thus ensuring the victims would reach the hospital at the same time as Shek. If anything had come up, the Graham Street plan would have been aborted and kept in reserve for another time. The West Point fire and Central traffic accident would have been child’s play for Shek to arrange, it was just the acid attack that they had to be careful about.’

  ‘Ah...’ Sonny ran through the timings of this case in his mind.

  ‘And frankly, that cubicle being out of order was suspicious too. Without that, Shek’s plan couldn’t have worked. But if they’d faked the sign, we would have known at once that something was up. In other words, the damage was real, which means someone must have arranged it. That wouldn’t be too hard to do, but without attracting attention? And making sure it’d still be awaiting repairs at that time? So there must have been a plant in the hospital too, waiting for the right moment to sabotage it and report it to the maintenance department.’

  ‘The hospital too? Someone’s paid off the doctors and nurses?’ gasped Sonny.

  ‘A hospital has more than just doctors and nurses. Don’t forget – Building J has a detention ward too.’

  ‘What! The detention ward?’

  ‘I’m afraid that over the last few years, Shek Boon-tim has used his powers of persuasion to pull a number of Correctional Services officers over to his side.’ Kwan continued to tidy up as he spoke. ‘A jail is cut off from the outside world, and its guards can easily get drawn into a close relationship with the inmates. Any young officer might fall into the psychological trap of a devil like Shek Boon-tim, and become his accomplice. Sze Wing-hong was just one of them. After all, it was management who decided which guards would accompany the prisoner; it’d be too risky for Shek if Sze was his only inside man. It’d be easy for us to charge Sze, but Shek would still be back in prison, hatching a new scheme. He likes to use turncoats – so let’s give him a taste of his own medicine.’

  ‘So that’s how it is,’ Sonny murmured. Although he knew Division A got reports from informants, he’d only just this minute realized how important that was.

  ‘Commander, can I give you a lift anywhere?’ He nodded at the heavy cardboard box on Kwan’s desk. ‘I’ll be passing by Mong Kok later, I can drop you off. I’m meeting my girlfriend at noon, we’re planning to drive around Sai Kung.’

  ‘Ah, that’d be great. I thought I’d have to take the MTR,’ said Kwan. ‘I hope I can count on you for a ride in the future, whenever it’s convenient?’

  ‘In the future? Commander, aren’t you retired?’

  ‘I am, but I’m going to be a consultant, so I should be in and out of the office.’

  ‘Great!’ Sonny was overjoyed that he’d still be able to learn from Kwan’s investigative skills. ‘Of course, no problem! Just tell me what to do, Commander!’

  ‘I’m no longer your commander,’ smiled Kwan.

  ‘Oh yes... Superintendent Kwan? No, former Superintendent Kwan?’ Sonny said awkwardly.

  Kwan broke into a grin at Sonny’s embarrassment. ‘If you don’t mind, just call me Sifu, as in mentor. From now on, you can be my disciple.’

  IV

  THE BALANCE OF THEMIS:

  1989

  KWAN CHUN-DOK STEPPED out of the elevator and into the murky corridor. A light fitting, grey with dust, dangled from the ceiling, its blinking bulb illuminating a cracked, pitted brick floor and white walls marked with unidentifiable stains and graffiti. The officers’ footsteps and voices from the intercom echoed disorientingly off the bare, windowless walls. All down the corridor were silent doors, each protected by a stern, imposing steel gate, as if in rebuke at the inadequate security of this building. It all seemed to proclaim that any resident imprudent enough not to take anti-burglary measures was inviting thieves to their door – which was in fact the case.

  All the residents on this floor had been evacuated just minutes before, ushered down the stairs by the police. Kwan knew that the most dangerous time was over, and emptying the building now was like mending a fence after the sheep had all been killed. Still, they had to follow protocol. And of course, if concealed explosives were to blow up now and injure an innocent civilian, the police would have to take responsibility – and they were already in enough trouble.

  If I were the commander, I might well have done the same, thought Kwan.

  Kwan Chun-dok was the highest-ranking officer present, but he wasn’t directing this operation. He could have stayed in the command centre, or followed Keith Tso back to HQ, but he’d chosen to go to the scene instead. Why had he followed his colleagues into this building? Perhaps instinct, developed over more than twenty years as a frontline investigator.

  Kwan was very clear what his position was. His rank meant his suggestions would be heeded, but that would undermine the independence of this regional investigation. So he’d do nothing, and just observe.

  Now he wanted only to go to the stifling, airless space of the crime scene, and see for himself what his former subordinate must have seen.

  A few minutes previously, Kwan had seen that subordinate in the lobby. The man had never reported to him directly – he was a junior investigator who had been assigned from another department to operations Kwan had directed. Still, his courage and judgement back then had left a deep impression.

  He’d left this courageous individual lying helplessly on a stretcher, receiving treatment from paramedics.

  Their eyes had met, and Kwan had been about to say ‘Well done,’ but then thought this might come across as sarcastic. Instead, he patted the officer’s uninjured shoulder, nodded slightly and walked to the elevator.

  Standing in the corridor, Kwan seemed to feel the pressure of some time ago, of being on the line between life and d
eath. Turning a corner, he passed through a wooden door and noted the clustered bulletholes in the wall. Two investigators were gathering evidence, meticulously examining and recording every mark.

  Kwan continued on to the brightly lit scene of the crime.

  Even without the headache-inducing flicker of the corridor lights, the atmosphere was hellish. The air reeked of gun smoke and blood. The floors, walls and furniture were all stained red and riddled with bullets.

  Most unsettling were the bodies – lying on the floor, their skulls shattered, half their brains blown away, grey-white matter leaking out and mingling, murky pink, with the crimson rivulets of blood.

  The investigators stood around one corpse after another, recording every detail they could. No one dared look directly at the victims’ faces. Not because of the gory expressions, though these were indeed grotesque.

  They averted their eyes out of guilt.

  All these shattered faces and broken bodies were an indictment of the Royal Hong Kong Police Force’s impotence.

  Every officer present knew that out of all these slain, only one person deserved to die.

  1

  ‘EDGAR, THIS IS Superintendent Kwan Chun-dok, the new commander of CIB Division B.’

  Chief Inspector Edgar Ko hadn’t expected Superintendent Tso to show up without warning, let alone accompanied by the legendary Kwan Chun-dok. The officer in charge of a command centre never wants anyone higher-ranking there, just as generals commanding an army aren’t pleased when the king or his ministers turn up at the front line – in the thick of the action, ‘higher-ups’ is just another word for trouble. When Edgar Ko shook hands with Kwan Chun-dok, he worked hard to disguise these thoughts, but suspected the other man, known for his deductive skills, had already seen right through him and was now only smiling out of politeness.

  ‘Superintendent Kwan, how do you do,’ said Ko. For the last few years, Kwan had been in charge of the Hong Kong Island’s Crime Unit, attracting the admiration and envy of colleagues in other districts after solving a string of major cases. When Ko was promoted to the equivalent position in West Kowloon, many of his colleagues began secretly comparing him to Kwan. Never mind how glowing his past record was, how many drug factories he’d shut down or fraud rings he’d busted, he’d always be number two next to a freak like Kwan Chun-dok. Ko was only three years younger than Kwan, but in his eyes the older man was impossibly far ahead, a target he’d never catch up with.

  Deep down, Ko believed he’d been doomed to failure from the very beginning. Apart from Kwan’s superior abilities, what set him apart was being one of the first Chinese officers to make it to the elite. Kwan had applied to join the force in the 1960s, when all top-ranking officers were white, and locals only hired for grunt work. Yet he was among a select few to be sent for a two-year training stint in England. He returned to Hong Kong in 1972, just as the force was being restructured, and was immediately promoted to inspector. This was the era when British training was essentially a guarantee of promotion, a mark of exceptional status like the Emperor’s gift of a yellow mandarin jacket. Ko had heard that Kwan had helped resolve some matter during protests in 1967, thus gaining the favour of a British inspector. After that, it was all smooth sailing. Edgar Ko had had no such opportunities to show his mettle.

  ‘After Superintendent Kwan heard about this operation, he came over specially to say hello, with good wishes for your future collaboration,’ said Superintendent Tso levelly. He was the Deputy Commander of CIB, a solemn man with a capable manner, considered by everyone in the force to be a sure thing for the CIB leadership.

  ‘I understand. The Shek brothers have information about many criminal gangs – I guess they’d be a gold mine to CIB?’ Ko deliberately kept his voice casual.

  Kwan nodded. ‘If we can get them to confess, at the very least we’ll be able to plug four channels that have been pumping illegal firearms into the city.’

  Shek Boon-tim and Shek Boon-sing occupied the top two spots on the Hong Kong Police’s Most Wanted list. They’d started their spree four years ago, in 1985, which included the robbery of four jewellers on Nathan Road that year, the car-jacking of a money transfer van the following year, and the kidnapping of wealthy businessman Li Yu-lung in 1988. The brothers were still on the run, and police believed they were connected to organized crime in both China and Hong Kong, leveraging these contacts to acquire firearms and muscle, fence stolen goods and find overseas hideouts. The police had launched numerous investigations, none successful. At best they had netted some accomplices, but never the masterminds themselves.

  Then, a few days previously, they had got news of the two men by chance.

  In response to rising crime rates in the Mong Kok district, the Crime Unit there had devoted its resources to rooting out drug-lords, robbers, murder suspects, Triad leaders and other criminal elements. Investigators often ended up exchanging fire with the suspects, and their departments frequently lacked the resources to send adequate back-up, leaving officers to risk their lives for those arrests.

  In the midst of these operations – which now seemed routine, day after monotonous day – the Mong Kok District Crime Unit Team 3 encountered something out of the ordinary. On 29 April 1989, a Saturday, they were preparing to arrest a suspicious character at Ka Fai Mansions, a housing complex on Reclamation Street, having received a tip-off that someone connected to a car theft case was hiding out in Unit 7 on the sixteenth floor. The division chief immediately posted a sentry, who observed the suspect in the company of an unidentified man. A plan was made to sweep in the next evening. At dusk on the 30th, just as the team was preparing to move in, they received an abrupt order to halt – the case was being taken over by the West Kowloon Crime Unit, with team 3 relegated to back-up.

  The reason for this, it turned out, was that unidentified man.

  ‘The Mong Kok squad was originally after the car thief known as “Jaguar”.’ Ko indicated a photograph on the corkboard. ‘But then we spotted this other guy, and handed over the picture to see if he was connected to any other case.’

  ‘That’s Shum Biu – Mad Dog Biu – Shek Boon-sing’s right-hand man,’ Kwan interrupted. ‘I’ve seen the report.’

  Ko nodded, somewhat abashed, and continued, ‘The bank heist at the end of last year – Mad Dog Biu’s a suspect, along with the Shek brothers. He vanished at the same time as them. Now he’s resurfaced, which could be a sign they’re preparing for another big score. Unit 16-07 was only rented last month, probably as a hideout. As long as we keep up this surveillance, we should have a chance to nab our top two suspects.’

  ‘So, any results from the last five days?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ko grinned triumphantly. ‘The younger brother, Shek Boon-sing, put in an appearance.’

  Kwan Chun-dok raised an eyebrow.

  Ko had kept this news to himself partly to avoid any possibility of a leak, but more for his own advantage. If he’d told HQ the number one most wanted criminal had shown his face, Organized Crime would have stepped in, and even if the arrest was successful, the glory would no longer be his; it wouldn’t be great for his squad’s morale either. He had ample reason to suppress the news of Shek Boon-sing’s reappearance, on the grounds of protecting the operation that was under way. It was a sign of his confidence that he revealed it to the two CIB officers now.

  ‘The day before, we saw a bald man arrive in a Jaguar.’ Ko pointed at an underexposed photo showing two men walking towards one of Ka Fai Mansions’ entrances. ‘We’ve analysed this, and although his appearance has changed a little, it’s definitely Shek Boon-sing.’

  ‘Yes, the scar on the back of his left hand. From the shoot-out four years ago.’

  Ko felt a chill. He and his men had only noticed this detail after many hours of scrutiny, and Kwan had spotted it at a glance.

  ‘From past experience, Shek Boon-tim wouldn’t leave his brother to run the show solo, and there are only three people in the apartment – not enough for a big hei
st,’ said Ko, bringing the focus back to the case. ‘We’ve had intel that Boon-tim will show himself tomorrow. It’s likely he’s hired two or three guys from Mainland. As soon as he appears, we’ll move in.’

  ‘What’s your source?’

  Ko smiled to himself. ‘We’ve got quite a few of Jaguar’s pager numbers.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘We nabbed a druggie a while back. He admitted to registering five pagers on behalf of Jaguar. And we know Jaguar’s tight with the Sheks, so these are probably the ones they’ll use on this job,’ said Ko with a smirk.

  In Hong Kong at the time, getting a pager required registering with an ID card. No intelligent criminal would want to leave that kind of trail, so they’d usually lean on some thug or drug addict to get hold of a few devices, and use those for communication within the gang.

  ‘Just yesterday, we got this message.’ Ko walked to a screen and nodded to a subordinate, indicating he should bring up the message. A row of green numerals flashed across the black screen.

  042.623.7.0505

  ‘The phone company wasn’t too keen, but we had a warrant, so they had to let us intercept this. These numbers mean that––’

  ‘Shek Boon-tim will show up on 5 May,’ said Kwan Chun-dok.

  ‘Uh, yes... Oh right, it was CIB that broke this code, naturally you’d have heard about it.’ Ko smiled through clenched teeth, smoothing over the awkwardness.

  Pagers first came to Hong Kong in the 1970s, but in the early days they only beeped and flashed, and you had to phone an operator to retrieve your messages. They’d now evolved to have LCD screens that could display numbers. The telecommunications companies came up with a code system to send messages with these numbers, relayed via the operator. For instance, the surname Chan was designated as 004, so the message ‘004.3256188’ told you to call your friend Chan on that telephone number. ‘On my way’ was 610, ‘traffic jam’ 611, ‘date’ was 7 and ‘time’ 8 – so ‘004.610.611.8.1715’ meant Mr or Ms Chan was calling to let you know they’d been held up by traffic and would not arrive until 5.15 p.m. There were also codes for places and landmarks such as ‘Central’, ‘Jordan’, ‘Ocean Terminal’ or ‘New Town Plaza’, and for common words: ‘restaurant’, ‘bar’, ‘hotel’, ‘park’, etc.