by Chan Ho-Kei
During their many previous attempts to capture the Shek brothers, the police had sometimes found pagers left behind by their henchmen, but the messages seemed to be garbled nonsense. Yet CIB was able to deduce from this scant information that the Sheks had come up with their own version of the code: 623 was now ‘gather’ instead of ‘mahjong’; 625 was ‘start moving’ instead of ‘have a meal’; and 616 was ‘get away’ instead of ‘cancel appointment’. Comparing pager records against actual events, they were fairly certain that 042, originally the name Lam, was now the handle of older brother Shek Boon-tim.
In other words, Shek Boon-tim only had to tell the operator, ‘My surname is Lam, the message is: “Let’s play mahjong on 5 May,”’ for the pager to show ‘042.623.7.0505’, which actually meant ‘Number One wants everyone to gather on 5 May.’
At this point, the police had the upper hand. To make sure Shek Boon-tim didn’t get wind and change the codes, this information was only made known to those of inspector rank and above, within the CIB. Yet Ko was aware that Shek was a cunning adversary, and would surely have a back-up plan. They hadn’t managed to intercept many messages over the last few days, and at the very least had missed one about Jaguar bringing Shek in, which meant the gang probably each carried several pagers that they used in rotation. That way, even if some messages leaked, the police still wouldn’t have the full picture.
Kwan and Tso both understood the significance of ‘042.623.7.0505’. The police had hitherto only been able to decipher these messages in the aftermath of a crime. Now, for the first time, they’d intercepted one ahead of time.
‘Do you have enough officers?’ asked Tso. The Shek brothers were vicious criminals, and each previous case had involved copious firepower, leading to quite a few casualties.
‘It’s a little tight at the moment, but we’ve notified SDU’ – Special Duty Unit, the elite paramilitary squad – ‘and as soon as Shek Boon-tim shows up, they’ll activate and be here within half an hour.’
‘But they aren’t actually on standby here, so if things kick off without warning, you’re still on your own,’ observed Kwan, looking around the command centre – a first-floor tenement apartment across from Ka Fai Mansions. Apart from Chief Inspector Ko himself, the small room held three other officers: one monitoring pager messages, one liaising with the on-site teams, and one as a runner. The window faced the southern exit of their target building – though Ka Fai’s layout was adding to the squad’s difficulties.
Ka Fai Mansions was built in the 1950s, an eighteen-storey building with thirty apartments on each floor. At one point it attracted quite a few middle-class families, but from the 1970s, development moved away from the area and the building started showing signs of age. About three-tenths of the apartments were now put to non-residential uses, from tailors’ shops, traditional medicine clinics, hair salons and trading companies to nursing homes and even Buddhist temples. There were also massage parlours, various clubs and associations, small-scale hotels and one-woman brothels – none of which were particularly good for public order.
A place like this was a nightmare for the police. The ground floor of Ka Fai Mansions had three exits to the street – at the north and south ends, and in the centre – as well as six elevators and three staircases. The main passageways had few windows but numerous corridors and corners, meaning many places from which criminals could ambush their pursuers. With so many units turned over to commercial purposes, security was lax and visitors went in and out unquestioned. The suspects hiding out here could certainly make use of this environment to evade pursuit – even if they didn’t leave by one of the three exits, they could leap from a first-floor window. The north and south ends of the building were a full hundred metres apart, and any kind of police search would require a great deal of time and manpower.
‘There’s a dozen officers outside. Unless there’s a head-on confrontation, we should be able to cope.’ Ko jerked a thumb at the window. ‘If this was a regular building, with this number of people we could take the whole place. But it had to be Ka Fai Mansions.’
‘You’ve split them into three groups, one per exit?’ asked Kwan.
‘Basically, plus another lot on the top floor of the building across the road. They can observe the target apartment’s corridor from there, and just about carry out surveillance through the window.’ Ko gestured at the map on the noticeboard. He guessed Shek Boon-tim had chosen this apartment because the surrounding buildings were not as tall, so there was no way to see inside. Even the distant perch only gave a partial view of the corridor. Ko had considered posting a sentry outside, but didn’t want to take risks dealing with the Shek brothers. It might end up costing a subordinate his life, while the suspects got spooked and fled.
‘Did you deploy two teams?’ asked Kwan. Without back-up from CIB surveillance nor Regional Ops, the twelve officers outside and four in the command centre would make up two teams from Regional Crime Unit.
‘No, only Team 1; everyone else was out on a case. The others are from Mong Kok District Crime Unit.’
‘The ones who originally wanted to arrest Jaguar?’
‘That’s them.’
‘Are they getting on all right?’ asked Kwan.
‘Of... of course they are.’ Ko had not expected the other man to be this direct.
‘Mong Kok Crime Unit Team 3 – that’s TT’s men, isn’t it?’ Kwan smiled.
Edgar Ko looked at Kwan’s grin, decided he wasn’t trying to cause trouble, and let out a breath. ‘So you know this Tang Ting fellow too?’
‘He was at Wan Chai Crime Unit five years ago. I bumped into him quite a few times on one op or another.’ Kwan chuckled. ‘He’s a clever man, quick on his feet too. Only thing is he’s a bit hot-headed. He’s put quite a few noses out of joint.’
Tang Ting’s nickname didn’t come from his initials, but from when a gun-loving officer had joked, ‘You suit your name – you’re like a TT handgun.’ The TT (or the 7.62 mm Tokarev self-loading pistol model 1930, to give it its full name) was a Russian-manufactured semi-automatic, distinguished by its prodigious firepower and its lack of a safety catch, hence the joke against Tang Ting – that he was deadly but hard to control. Tang Ting, now thirty-three years old, often came in for criticism from higher-ups for taking too many gambles in his work, betting that his fast reflexes and superior marksmanship would allow him to tackle suspects without back-up. TT did not object to this nickname. He’d won the police shooting trophy for a few years in a row, and quite liked being named after a gun. Now superiors and colleagues were so used to calling him TT, some had forgotten his actual name.
‘You said earlier the other team was the Kowloon West Crime Unit Team 1 – they’re under Karl Fung. There’s bad blood between him and TT – everyone in Wan Chai knew, back in the day. That’s why I asked,’ Kwan explained.
Ko reflected how difficult it was to pull the wool over Superintendent Kwan’s eyes. ‘Yes, he graduated from the academy the same year as TT. I’m not sure what happened between them, but there’s certainly some kind of grudge. Still, we’re all professionals, and no one’s going to bring personal feelings onto the job. They’ve both done well with their reports, strategy and ops. I have complete faith in both of them.’
Kwan smiled faintly, not pursuing the matter. Karl Fung was a senior inspector, half a grade above TT, and in charge of a regional Crime Unit’s team. If there were already hard feelings between the men, this difference in rank could only worsen the situation. If he were honest, Ko was uneasy about these two working together, which was why he’d posted TT at the north entrance and Fung at the south.
‘At least TT will be a new man soon. Married men can’t be impulsive – they have families to think of,’ said Keith Tso.
‘TT’s getting married?’ Kwan hadn’t heard this bit of news.
‘Oh yes. What’s more, his bride is the Deputy Commissioner’s daughter – Ellen, the one in the PR Branch,’ Tso sneered, implying that a meteoric
rise could well be on the cards for TT.
Kwan glanced at Ko who looked bored by this gossip. He changed the subject. ‘We’ll rely on you to get us Shek Boon-tim and Shek Boon-sing, Chief Inspector Ko. As long as you can take them alive, we’ll get the information we need from them.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re pretty confident we’ll clip their wings this time.’ Ko shook Kwan’s hand once again.
‘If CIB can do anything for you, just say the word,’ added Tso.
‘Of course, of course,’ replied Ko.
Just as Tso and Kwan were preparing to leave, the walkie-talkie on the desk crackled.
‘Water Tower to Barn, Water Tower to Barn, Sparrow and Crow have just left the nest, Sparrow and Crow have just left the nest. Over.’
‘Water Tower’ was the unit on top of the building opposite, ‘Barn’ was the command centre, ‘Sparrow’ and ‘Crow’ were Jaguar and Mad Dog Biu, who’d just walked out of the apartment. As for the ringleaders,‘Owl’ was Shek Boon-tim, and ‘Vulture’ was Shek Boon-sing.
Given this sudden news, the two CIB men decided to stay where they were, watching events unfold.
‘Attention all units, attention all units, Sparrow and Crow have left the nest, I repeat, Sparrow and Crow have left the nest. Be on full alert. Over.’ At Ko’s signal, the officer in charge of communications relayed the message. If the suspects left the building, they would be followed, and the remaining officers would have to reorganize themselves to make sure there weren’t any gaps in the net.
Ko was worried that Shek Boon-tim might show up sooner than expected, in which case the gang might take off for their heist before SDU could get there. If that happened, he’d have to hope the sixteen officers now on the scene could delay them long enough.
2
IT WAS 12.55 p.m. – Sonny Lok glanced at his watch, feeling that time was moving very slowly. He’d never thought that the job of investigator, one he’d been looking forward to, would be this dull. Ever since graduating from the academy, he’d spent his three years in uniform longing for a transfer to this department, though older colleagues had told him how hard life was in a Crime Unit – sometimes too busy to go home, even if you were passing right by your front door. Sonny knew he was able to endure hardship, and being very young, felt he might as well toughen himself up as soon as possible, to train himself into an outstanding officer, so he’d be ready when an opportunity finally arose.
What he wasn’t prepared for was the boredom. For a guy who’d just turned twenty, this monotony was harder to get through than any amount of stress.
Because of his relentless work ethic and commitment, not to mention his outstanding grades at the academy, the top brass had sent Sonny to Crime Wing, freeing him from uniform. Mong Kong District Crime Unit happened to be a man short, and so he got his wish earlier than expected. In his two months here, he’d encountered quite a few investigative techniques and operations that were roughly what he expected – the opportunity to learn the skills he’d need. The problem was these things only took up a tiny proportion of his work hours, compared to lengthy stakeouts, searching with a fine-tooth comb for evidence that turned out not to exist, or interviewing hundreds of witnesses about things they turned out to know nothing about. An actual arrest operation could take only a minute, but the preparation beforehand and inquiries afterwards could take several days.
At this moment, he was engaged in just such a boring task.
‘What’s taking Headman so long?’ hollered Sharpie, sitting next to Sonny. ‘Sharpie’ was the nickname of Constable Fan Si-tat, an officer five years older than Sonny who’d been in the Mong Kok Crime Unit three years now. He was the colleague Sonny was closest to – neither was much of a team player, which ironically brought them together.
‘Hey, he’s coming,’ hissed Sonny, seeing TT striding down the hallway from his smoke break.
Sonny, Sharpie and TT had been stationed by Chief Inspector Ko at a cooked food counter by the north entrance of Ka Fai Mansions. There were several shops in this lobby, some facing the street, others inwards, and a few corner units. The police had requisitioned the shop, so the owner had given his two employees some time off, allowing the officers to take their places while carrying out their surveillance.
‘Sharpie, your turn.’ TT, reeking of smoke, tied on his apron and went behind the counter. Sharpie left the store, not even stopping to take off his own apron, and vanished towards the stairwell.
Long, open-ended surveillance operations were psychologically wearing on officers, so they were always organized in groups – in addition to looking out for each other, this also enabled them to take breaks. Fifteen minutes ago, TT and his subordinates had taken turns to go to the toilet – there wasn’t one in the shop, so they were forced to trek to the tenants’ washroom by the elevators. This also allowed nicotine addicts TT and Sharpie to indulge their habit. Although officers were generally free to smoke on stakeouts, the owner had warned them several times that it would be bad for business if they were to serve food with cigarettes dangling from their mouths.
‘There’s hardly any customers anyway. The food is disgusting. What business is he worried about...’ grumbled Sonny to Sharpie, while the boss was busy in the kitchen.
Returning to his post, TT pulled out his pager and glanced at it again. Sonny had to chuckle. ‘Preparing for a wedding isn’t easy, I guess?’
TT smiled grimly. ‘It’s torture. Don’t get married too soon, Sonny, and if you must, make sure you choose a time when there’s no operations.’
That morning alone, TT’s pager had beeped constantly, and he’d already had to go to the management office three times to make calls. They weren’t allowed to use the phone at the takeout counter – the boss said he might lose business.
Sonny knew that although TT and Sharpie hadn’t complained, they were both pretty dissatisfied with this stakeout. They’d been all set to move on Sunday and bring that car thief Jaguar, the Shek brothers’ accomplice, back to the station, but someone at the top had pulled the plug at the last minute, and the case got snatched up by the West Kowloon Crime Unit. If that were all, Sonny might have sighed and dismissed it as bad luck, but what enraged the Mong Kok Crime Unit was that HQ had asked them to provide back-up, so they had to hang out like idiots with no say in the operation. The target apartment was in the south wing, and Shek Boon-tim went in and out of the south entrance. Of the six Team 3 officers on the premises, one was at the lookout point across the road and two were with the West Kowloon investigators at the main entrance, leaving the other three at this takeout joint, birds guarding an egg that would never hatch.
This was a form of professional revenge, thought Sonny. He’d learned from Sharpie about TT’s antagonism with Inspector Fung, and seen for himself how the two men faced off at the command centre the day before. Even if the Shek brothers were successfully apprehended, West Kowloon would get all the credit, Mong Kok’s hard work going unrecognized. Sonny guessed Chief Inspector Ko was cut from the same cloth as that hateful Fung. The pair of them were directly linked in the chain of command; of course they’d sing the same tune.
According to the original plan, Mong Kok’s Team 3 would have arrested Jaguar and then ceased operations for a while in order to focus on interrogating the suspect and writing up the case report, handing over evidence and so on. That would have given them breathing space, and allowed their commander to focus on his wedding preparations. Instead, the whole team was left kicking their heels.
‘Attention all units, attention all units, Sparrow and Crow have left the nest, I repeat, Sparrow and Crow have left the nest. Be on full alert. Over,’ a message from the command centre suddenly came through all their earpieces.
TT pressed a button beneath his clothes and spoke into the concealed microphone in his collar. ‘Scarecrow Roger. Over.’ ‘Cowshed’, ‘Millhouse’ and ‘Scarecrow’ were Ka Fai Mansions’ south, centre and north entrances respectively, while the three teams were known as A, B and C.
‘This is Water Tower. Sparrow and Crow have entered the elevator. Over.’
Sonny’s attention was caught, but he still thought this had nothing to do with him. They’d been at the takeout counter four days now, and there hadn’t been one glimpse of the Shek brothers, or even their errand boy Jaguar. Instead, he felt he was rehearsing the role of takeout employee, learning to take orders, serve meals and ring up sales.
‘Sonny, don’t get too relaxed,’ said TT. Taking heed, Sonny brought his attention back to their surroundings, looking out for suspicious individuals.
‘This is Cowshed. Elevator is at ground level. Over.’ Inspector Fung’s voice, over the earpiece.
‘Why isn’t Sharpie back yet?’ TT wrinkled his brow.
‘Maybe he’s had to take care of major business – he could be a while,’ Sonny answered, trying to defuse the situation. The way Sharpie had rushed off certainly suggested a call of nature.
‘Cowshed to Millhouse, Cowshed to Millhouse, Sparrow and Crow flying towards Millhouse. Over.’
This unexpected development left Sonny and TT open-mouthed. These few days, not once had Jaguar walked through the ground-floor lobby to the main exit.
‘This is Millhouse. Sparrow and Crow sighted... Sparrow and Crow have not exited the building, they’re continuing north. Both birds are flying towards Scarecrow. Over.’
