As the doors slammed shut Wah-yim shot off and the Land-Rover came careering round the bend. It started to brake as the Mercedes accelerated, then picked up speed again. Wah-yim hit the brake pedal again and the car’s red lights flashed and the Land-Rover slowed to walking pace, the driver obviously confused by its antics. The two armed guards took aim and then Elvis’s first bottle hit the floor between them and they disappeared in a sheet of flame. They fell off the back howling in pain, and I threw mine at the tyres, front and back, then ran along the side of the road back to the car. Elvis was standing by the side of a tree, eagerly watching the inferno, he’d obviously forgotten about the burning bottle in his hand. I shouted and pointed and he looked at it, blew it a kiss and heaved it at the door which the driver was trying to open, then he too was running. We got in the car at the same time and Wah-yim roared off. Elvis was laughing and slapping the dashboard with the palms of his hands. I was shaking and Seligman was sitting there with a look of horror on his face. I gulped in deep breaths and tried to steady myself. Wah-yim was laughing too now, and Elvis began frantically handjiving as he enjoyed the emotional high he’d worked himself up into. I just sank back into the seat and hugged myself as I tried to wipe what I’d done from my mind. I felt sick.
It was some time before the American spoke.
‘They were trying to kill us,’ he said quietly. ‘Why?’
‘They’ve obviously been told to tighten security since you and Sally were last here,’ I said, stating the obvious. ‘Are you sure she never told you what she’d discovered? What about when you were back in Hong Kong?’
‘The last time I saw her she wasn’t in any fit state to say anything,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘She’d been celebrating at the KCC, drinking champagne and telling everybody that she’d got a scoop. God, I’d forgotten about that evening. She was blind drunk but wouldn’t say what the story was. Just kept repeating over and over again that she had the proof. I took her home and she was sick in my car, all over her briefcase.
‘Briefcase?’
‘Yeah, I had to carry it for her.’ He looked at me, eyes widening. ‘Shit, it’s still in the car, under the front seat. She passed out in the car and I had to carry her upstairs to her flat. I couldn’t manage it and her. I never got the chance to return it.
‘I rang her the following morning but she said there was nothing important in it and said she’d collect it from me some time.’
‘And she didn’t?’
‘It wasn’t long after that that she died,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, maybe I should have mentioned it earlier, when you were around at the flat. It’d completely slipped my mind. I’d have returned it eventually, she often used to stay over anyway, and she was used to leaving things in the flat. Half of my wardrobe is taken up with her clothes.’
I must have looked shocked because he started speaking quickly to cover his embarrassment. ‘I thought you knew, I assumed Barry had told you, but you never mentioned it so I thought you were just being cool. She’d been stopping over at my place on and off for a year or so, I got the impression that she came to see me whenever she was bored.’
So Sally had used Seligman, too, and not just as a guide and interpreter. Was there anyone in Hong Kong she hadn’t taken advantage of?
When we eventually reached Shanghai, Seligman decided that we’d better avoid the bigger hotels ‘just in case’ and after an animated conversation with Wah-yim and Elvis we began driving through a network of quiet back streets. ‘They have a cousin who runs a small guesthouse,’ he explained. Seligman looked calmer now, but he was still a little twitchy and every now and again he would look over his shoulder to see if anyone was following the car. Of course they couldn’t be, I’d seen only two Land-Rovers and we’d stopped both of them.
The incident near the mine seemed totally unreal now, the shots, the petrol bombs, the chase, it was like a dream and I found it difficult to remember the order in which things had happened. But every time I thought back to the second Land-Rover and how Elvis and I had run from the Mercedes to attack it, my heart raced.
The crazy thing was, we hadn’t seen anything, just the mine and the boats. Their violent reaction to our being there could only have been because of something that had happened earlier, and that something could only have been Sally’s visit. And her death. Nobody had got close enough to see our faces so I was sure that once back in Hong Kong we’d be safe, but China was a different matter, especially when we were driving around in a bullet-holed Mercedes. Luckily it was dark, but even so I was as jumpy as Seligman and after a while I was looking out of the rear window, too. The men with the guns hadn’t been firing warning shots, they hadn’t bothered. They just wanted to kill us.
‘We’re in the clear,’ I said to him, twice, and he nodded. But we kept looking anyway.
Wah-yim parked the car in the garage and we walked a couple of hundred yards to a long brick terrace, midway along which was a door with a wooden sign above it, yellow Chinese characters on a dark blue background.
Elvis back-kicked the door with his heel until a light came on in an upstairs room, then a window opened and a head appeared. After a short and obviously money-orientated argument the head disappeared and a few minutes later we heard the sounds of bolts being drawn back.
It was a dump. A real dump. Seligman and I had to sleep on two rotting camp beds on a bare wooden floor in a room that smelled damp and which was alive with ticks and cockroaches. I got bitten almost to death and I was scratching all the way from Shanghai to Kai Tak. Elvis and Wah-yim had cost us a small fortune, for their time, their silence, and new windows for the Mercedes.
I felt dirty and dog tired when we finally reached Hong Kong island. It was dark and we were both practically asleep when the taxi dropped me in front of the Excelsior.
‘Shit, the briefcase,’ said the American. ‘Don’t forget Sally’s briefcase. Do you want to come and get it now?’
I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to see what was in the case, even though Sally had told Seligman that it wasn’t important. And part of me just wanted to sleep forever.
Seligman decided for me. ‘You’re dead on your feet,’ he said, reaching for the taxi door. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll meet you in the FCC at ten o’clock tomorrow morning and I’ll bring the case with me.’
By the time I’d started to nod my head in agreement he’d driven off.
I was sitting on a ledge, high above a busy shopping district, my legs dangling into space above crowds of shoppers below. I could see for miles, the air was clean and fresh and I was so high I couldn’t hear the traffic or people, just the wind. The ledge was wide enough so that it supported me from the base of the spine to the back of my knees, solid and comforting, and I could feel the rough concrete through the back of my trousers. If I leant forward I could look directly down through my knees, down onto a sea of heads that moved like shoals of fish crossing each other.
A few of the heads stopped moving and looked up, and then the patch of white grew larger and larger as more tilted back. Then cars began to stop and the occupants got out and pretty soon the streets below were full of people looking up and pointing at me. I could see a police car, blue light flashing and siren whining, pull up at the kerb, and then I heard an ambulance or fire engine in the distance, its clanging bell getting louder and louder until it filled my head. It was the telephone and it was four o’clock in the morning which meant it was 8 pm in London.
‘How’s it going?’ asked Bill Hardwicke. I pictured him in his hamster’s cage, surrounded by an ever-growing pile of page proofs.
‘Not so bad,’ I said. ‘What’s up?’ The line was clear, it sounded as if he was calling from the next room.
‘We were wondering when you were coming back?’ Bill seemed embarrassed, as if he was asking for repayment of a long forgotten debt.
‘We, Bill? Who’s we?’ I was wide awake mentally, sitting up in the double bed, though p
hysically I was still wrecked.
‘It’s just been mentioned that you have been away from the office for almost a week now and that it was perhaps time you came back.’
‘I’m sure the paper can manage without me for a little while longer, Bill.’
He paused, and I could almost hear him thinking. The line began to crackle and then went clear again. I was determined not to make this easy for him.
‘Where were you yesterday?’ he asked.
‘China,’ I said. ‘I went with a friend of Sally’s, an American. And I’m supposed to be meeting him in six hours’ time and I’d like to get some sleep. Do you know what fucking time it is?’
‘China?’ he said. ‘What the hell’s happening in China?’
‘I’ll tell you when I know myself,’ I said. ‘I’m still trying to find out what happened. Just give me some time. Look, I have to sleep. I’ve got to go and pick up Sally’s briefcase later this morning and someone else is going through her notes. There could be a clue there. Let me get back to you, please.’
He paused again, and the line squarked loudly.
‘Have you been drinking?’ he asked eventually.
‘Tonight or generally?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Not to excess, Bill. No need to worry. Look, I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise. I have to arrange to get Sally’s body back to Britain. There’s talk of an autopsy.’
‘I thought that had already been done.’
I jumped on that one straight away. ‘How did you know? Have you been talking to Howard Berenger?’
‘We were trying to get hold of you and you weren’t in the hotel. Of course we rang Berenger. Why shouldn’t we?’
‘I don’t trust the old bastard, that’s all.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m getting paranoid, that’s all. Look Bill, I’ll be back as soon as I can, OK?’
‘OK,’ he said, and he seemed to say it reluctantly, as if he really wanted to increase the pressure, but couldn’t, because of Sally or because we went back a long way. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe.
We said our goodbyes and then the line clicked and clicked again and I put down the phone and wondered if Bill had any idea at all about what was going on and who, if anyone, had asked him to call me.
I knew now that I was on the same trail that Sally had followed, what had happened in China had proved that. I was getting close, but to get any closer I had to find out the name of the company that ran the mine. And with that thought I fell asleep.
After I had showered and dressed I rang the Post. I’d decided against phoning Howard. After being shot at I reckoned it best to deal only with those people I really trusted. I trusted John Healy, and to my surprise he was at his desk already. I told him what I wanted but I didn’t say why. He put me on hold while he went to the cuttings library and when he came back he said there had only been two very short pieces about the mining operation.
‘Funny that,’ he mused. ‘You would have thought they’d want more publicity for it. Most of these joint ventures seem to end in tears.’
He gave me the name of the only non-Chinese company mentioned and I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.
‘Piss off,’ he said, so I did. I called Jenny and I wasn’t too surprised when she said there had been no reference to diamonds in Sally’s files.
‘Dennis was asking me what was happening, and I said I didn’t know,’ she said.
‘Good girl.’
‘Well I don’t know, do I? I haven’t a clue what’s happening.’
‘I’ll explain tonight. What little there is to explain. Do me a favour, can you run this name through your computer or whatever it is you research people use?’
I gave her the name of the firm Healy had given me.
‘And bring along any information you’ve got on the diamond industry. Anything at all.’
‘Bring along where?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you haven’t even asked to meet me yet. Or asked me how I am. Or told me how you are.’
‘Whoops. Sorry.’ Already I was taking her for granted. She’d quickly become a reassuring and comfortable part of my life, so much so that it hadn’t even occurred to me that she wouldn’t see me.
‘How are you?’ I asked sheepishly.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Thanks for asking. And you?’
‘Chagrined,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose you’re free for a drink tonight?’
‘Hmmm. I’ll have to check my diary,’ she said, and then burst into laughter. ‘Where?’
‘How about the Dickens Bar again?’
‘We’ll become known as regulars.’
‘I’ll risk that. Eight o’clock all right?’
‘Perfect. How was China by the way?’
‘Action packed. And you were right, I hated every minute of it.’
‘I’m not surprised. Oh, I almost forgot, they finished the autopsy while you were away.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing. Death consistent with the fall, no evidence of drugs or drink.’
‘Which leaves the police no further on.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jenny. ‘This is a horrible business.’
I didn’t reply, there was nothing I could say.
‘I’ll see you tonight,’ she said. ‘Bye.’ Then she was gone.
I used the anti-perspirant liberally before catching a cab to the FCC.
The smell of frying bacon greeted me as I opened the door and walked up the stairs to the bar. The area to the right where the telex machines were was now filled with cloth-covered tables topped by stainless steel trays of bacon, sausages, fried potatoes and tomatoes, and a young waiter in a blue and white striped apron was busy cooking an omelette.
Scattered around the tables in the dining section were assorted businessmen in twos and threes, talking and eating. I couldn’t see Seligman there so I walked around the bar. Howard was sitting on his own at the far end, a tumbler of whisky in front of him. I pulled up a stool and joined him.
‘Not eating?’ I said, beckoning to a barman.
‘Too early for solid food,’ he said.
‘Gin and tonic,’ I said to the barman. ‘Fresh tonic,’ I added, just in case his memory was bad. Across the bar sat the hunchback, reading a magazine as he shovelled forkfuls of scrambled egg into his bearded mouth. I smiled and raised my glass to him, but he just glared sourly. What the hell, some people just aren’t friendly in the mornings.
‘How was China?’ asked Howard.
‘Nice place to visit etc, etc. Have you seen Seligman?’
‘Today? No. Were you expecting to see him?’
‘Yeah, he’s got something for me.’ I took a mouthful of the gin and tonic and let it wash around my mouth before swallowing it slowly and enjoying the feeling of coldness spreading across my throat.
‘Did you find anything in China?’ he asked.
‘A bed full of cockroaches and bad food.’
‘Just like home,’ he laughed, but he got the message and didn’t bother asking again.
‘Have you got much on today?’ I asked him.
‘It can wait,’ he replied. ‘I’m working on some PR stuff for a local agency, rewriting press releases and a couple of chairman’s statements, that sort of thing.’ I suppose that the retainer from Lai meant that he wasn’t over concerned about his workload.
‘Much happen in Hong Kong while I was away?’
‘Financial Secretary said there was no question of revaluing the Hong Kong dollar, a couple of legislative councillors want to repatriate all Vietnamese refugees, and there’s a chance that Michael Jackson might be giving a concert here. In other words, nothing doing. Nothing to write home about, anyway. Oh, and there’s supposed to be another typhoon on the way.’
‘Yeah, I felt the wind on the way in. Is this one actually going to hit Hong Kong?’
‘Maybe.
’
We both jumped as a crack of thunder split the air outside, a resonating bang that actually made the glasses on the bar tremble. A framed copy of a back issue of the New York Times with the headline ‘Kennedy slain’ tilted on the wall and the eating sounds stopped dead as forks halted in mid-air. The only noise in the bar was that of sizzling fat as the breakfast chef put the finishing touches to a fried egg.
‘What the fuck was that?’ I asked. All the windows were blocked by louvred shutters so there was no way of looking out.
Howard shrugged. ‘Sounds like thunder.’
‘I’ve heard bangs like that before, in Belfast, and Beirut, and they don’t have many typhoons in Northern Ireland,’ I said. ‘Come on.’
By the time we were out on the street a siren was whining in the distance, only this one didn’t turn into a ringing telephone, it was a real ambulance, and it screeched past us, swaying madly as it turned a corner. I started running after it and within fifty yards I was drenched in sweat and Howard was puffing and panting at my shoulder. We were overtaken by a fire engine, its bell clanging wildly, and by the time we got to the road where Seligman lived they were unravelling their hoses and connecting the engine to a red fire hydrant. I don’t know what sort of car Seligman had had, but now it was just a blazing hulk, the bonnet open like a gasping mouth, the windows blown out and the paint bubbling and blistering from the fiery heat. What was left of the American was lying under a rough blanket on the pavement surrounded by green uniforms. Like all accidents it had drawn a crowd, and the windows of the surrounding houses all had curious faces peering down for a better look. Most of the windows were broken or cracked.
‘Fucking vultures,’ I said under my breath, but another part of me remembered that I’d chased enough fire engines in my time. Worse, I’d stood by groups of firemen at motorway pile-ups with my notebook in my hand, waiting to see if the drivers they were cutting out were dead or alive and just wishing that they’d get on with it so that I could file the story and go back to the pub. Name, age, address, job, dead on arrival or condition. See one five-car smash and you’ve seen them all.
Howard moved forward and tried to lift the corner of the blanket but a couple of the uniforms held him back, faces impassive.
The Fireman Page 22
