Good Girl Bad Girl

by Ann Girdharry

  “Marty acts like you were together, or maybe, still are.”

  “We’re close and Marty will always be special to me and, if you hadn't heard, Marty has lesbian relationships on occasion, which isn't a secret from anyone. That's not a problem for you, is it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why are you asking?” She knew she shouldn’t want to know him, yet she couldn’t deny she felt drawn towards LeeMing. Because something told her they were two of a kind.

  “Why not hand the case over to Spinks? Why keep taking so many risks?” he said. “You’re getting yourself in deeper and deeper. Now we know Scott’s identity, we know he’s killed at least one member of your family, and the syndicate has a much further reach than Scott. They’re ruthless. Why keep going like this?”

  “Because it’s my mother’s life that’s at stake as well as innocent children.”

  “Not because you’re running away from something, and you can ram it down by constantly placing yourself in danger? I’ve seen people who act that way and I wouldn’t like you to be one of them.”

  No, and doubtless he wouldn’t like it either, if she turned out to be a nasty blueprint of David Khan. “What does it matter to you?”

  “You don’t need to play games with me, if you got to know me better you’d realise that.”

  “Is that an offer?”

  “Of friendship, yes. As you may know, I have a girlfriend and we’ve been together for years.”

  It was a perverse relief to know he wasn’t interested. “Great.”

  “Our parents knew each other in Hong Kong before our families even moved to London.”

  Yes, that’s bloody fantastic, she thought, only please don’t kill me with the details. “Then tell me, do you keep secrets from her?”

  LeeMing’s whole body twitched. “Excuse me?”

  “Since we seem to be going for a truth or dare session, I said, do you keep secrets from your girlfriend? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t play around with men who’re already taken, I’m asking, because that night on the Common you had a Dim mak hold on your attacker’s neck. I’m guessing your girlfriend doesn’t like the Triad and I think you promised her you’d leave, except I’m not certain you did.”

  LeeMing gesticulated with his leather-gloved hand. “Wait, are you saying Master Yeung taught you Dim mak holds? I really doubt that.”

  “For your information, my father taught me.”

  “I thought David Khan sounded, shall we say, unusual. He must have been some father. Actually, you’re right, my girlfriend doesn’t like the Triad though that’s not the reason I left, and I certainly don’t lie nor do I keep secrets. You’re an amazing woman, Kal,…” LeeMing cleared this throat.

  She searched LeeMing’s face for clues.

  Marty arrived in a rush and threw herself down on the ground. “Not interrupting am I?”

  “Of course not,” Kal said.

  For an instant, she imagined she could tell LeeMing everything and she finally realised what a relief that would be. Then, rolling back onto her stomach, Kal re-clamped the binoculars hard to her face and the moment passed.

  ***

  It was a further, bone-chilling, fifty minutes before four airport personnel ran from the office. A plane appeared in the distance, levelling out for landing and at the same time a black sedan drew up at the gates.

  “That's my cue, “Marty said.

  “Ours too,” Kal replied, “good luck.”

  With dusk falling, she and LeeMing squirmed down the near side of the embankment and ran low across the open space. They hid as close as possible to the hangar entrance. Meanwhile, the sedan approached along the interior road and with a crunch of tyres it pulled up close to their hiding position. The driver got out and Kal recognised him as the boxer - the second bodyguard she’d fought at the suite.

  The private jet approached the runway at speed and the wheels contacted the ground, bounced, then squealed on the tarmac. Then came the roar of the reverse thrusters. As the plane's speed dropped and its nose oriented towards the hangar, the smell of aviation fuel wafted towards them.

  No more mistakes, she thought. Grab any child. Straight in and out. She flexed her fingers and wriggled her shoulders. Focused on the exit of the plane as the staff wheeled up a set of steps. If it took an out and out fight to get hold of a child, that’s what they’d do. Whatever it took. Then call in Spinks’ team to mop up the mess. LeeMing opted for a crouch position, plastered low to the ground in the shadow of the hangar. With the guard close enough that he would be alerted, neither of them spoke. The guard lounged by the sedan and lit a cigarette and she heard the click of the lighter and the suck as the man inhaled. The red end of the cigarette glowed. Around them, night had fallen.

  The airplane door swung to the side and out came two adults. Scott first, and behind him, a man Kal recognised as Aaron DeVille, fifth on Alesha's list - the Hollywood producer who loves England. Yellow light spilled from inside the plane out onto the steps and she waited for another figure to exit, a smaller one. None did.

  Her shoulders had tensed. Scott and DeVille headed towards the car.

  “I can only apologise again, Aaron,” Scott said, “I anticipate the operating problems will be resolved very soon.”

  “I really hope so.”

  The bodyguard ground the remains of his cigarette underfoot and he leapt to open the car door.

  “I trust you had a good flight, Dr Scott?” the bodyguard enquired.

  “Indeed we did and I shall be joining Aaron for dinner. Please take us straight there.”

  ***

  In the back of Marty’s car, LeeMing removed his gloves and leaned between the seats to place his hands closer to the heating.

  “So there were no children and we move to plan ‘b’,” he said.

  “Give me the laptop,” Kal said, “there might be a way of getting to Deville’s house ahead of them. Take a left here, Marty, and go faster.”

  “Okay, you're the boss,” said Marty, and she spun the steering wheel, expertly controlling the rear skid as the car took the corner at speed.

  “You two are full of surprises,” said LeeMing, as he braced himself against the door frame.

  ***

  They left the car concealed and sprinted the final stretch to DeVille’s mansion. Somewhere to their right, the roar of the sedan approached down the main road. They reached the bushes at the side of DeVille's electronic gate moments before it began sliding open, and slightly ahead of the sedan. The car drove straight through, leaving them time to sneak in before the gate closed. Then they accelerated along the gravel drive, the three of them at full stretch, each at peak fitness, pounding alongside each other. Kal smelt the lingering exhaust fumes and by the time they neared the house, a sharp pain jarred her leg at each step.

  Scott and DeVille had already entered the colonnaded front door. Kal massaged her knee and caught her breath, examining the exterior of the mansion. Twelve windows on the ground floor and though the windows had old-style, diamond leaded panes, on close inspection, she noted they were modern, high-security look-a-likes. Likely DeVille's mansion boasted a range of up-to-date security systems, not to mention plenty of domestic staff. The staff would be pattering backwards and forwards to cater to the arrival of DeVille and his guest. Those factors would make access without detection a challenge.

  “Let's check around the back,” she whispered.

  Sure enough, at the rear, they found a second door.

  “That's for tradespeople and deliveries and it's my way in,” she said.

  Marty’s eyes flicked to Kal’s knee. “Wo-ah, wait a minute. It can't be you who goes inside, not with Scott in there.”

  “We already agreed on the strategy and I'll be staying well away from Scott, don't worry.”

  LeeMing placed a restraining hand on her arm. “Marty's right. Our initial ideas didn't involve Scott sitting at the dinner table. If he identifies you, we'll have much less chance of rele
asing any child. One person’s got to get inside, remain undetected and search the entire house.”

  “Listen, I'm the one who messed up. It’s my grandfather Scott butchered. Let me do this.”

  LeeMing shook his head.

  “Marty, come on, back me up on this one.”

  In an upstairs window, someone turned on a light, throwing a rectangle of yellow on the ground around their feet.

  “Keep your voice down,” Marty said, “Yes, you deserve the opportunity only I've got one question…”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why are three of us here?”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t you get it? It’s team-work. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Like I keep saying, you're not on your own, and with Scott inside and that knee of yours, are you really the best person for the job?”

  “Shit. Damn you, Marty.”

  “Yes, damn me and that's what friends are for.”

  Marty's voice didn’t carry the merest trace of victory. Kal took a cooling in-breath and noticed LeeMing smiling.

  “What the hell are you laughing at?”

  “I'm not laughing, I've got an idea. Sometimes you just have to fall back on those caricatures. Give me a minute.”

  A brick wall designated a concealed bin area. LeeMing disappeared and they heard him ferreting amongst the garbage.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Marty hissed.

  LeeMing reappeared holding a cardboard pizza container. “Anyone for a deep-pan with extra cheese?”

  “Have you lost it?” Marty said.

  “No, what this means is that Chinese boys like me often deliver pizza. So if I turn up at the entrance and announce a delivery, they'll probably let me stroll right on in. The name and address of their usual delivery place is even printed on the carton.”

  LeeMing unzipped his jacket and gave them a big grin, holding out the carton as he did so. The effect was surprisingly convincing.

  “It's only the stereotypes playing in your mind,” he said, “of course, Chinese takeaway would be more authentic but a pizza carton is a better trigger.”

  “This might work,” Kal said.

  “Kal, once I'm inside I'll check the entire house, I promise. If I can make it out in secret with any child, I will. If I need back-up, I'll give a signal.”

  Yes, she knew he could do it. She’d seen him in action on the Common and at Assad’s house. More than that, she knew he’d go all the way. The children in Kolkata, the girl in the morgue – she’d seen it had gone deep. Affected him. LeeMing was as committed to stamping this out as she was.

  “Holy shit, this is getting surreal,” Marty said.

  Marty tossed LeeMing the car keys and he reappeared some minutes later driving Marty's car, having been allowed entrance at the main gate. They watched from the shadows as LeeMing sauntered to the rear entrance. When he neared the door, automatic security lighting lit up the flank of the house.

  “Do you really think this is going to work? I mean, usually you hand the pizza over on the doorstep, you don't go inside. All he’s got is an empty carton.” Marty said.

  “Don't forget LeeMing was a member of the Triad. He'll find a way.”

  “As long as he doesn’t end up in a goddam body bag,” Marty muttered.

  “No chance.”

  LeeMing pressed the buzzer.

  “Do you think good men have secrets, Marty?” Kal asked.

  Marty's gaze swung away from the door. “What?”

  “Do good men have secrets?”

  A scraping noise came from the other side of the kitchen door. Someone was releasing the security latches.

  Marty refocused ahead. “This is about David Khan, isn't it?”

  A metallic thunk indicated the release of the final bolt. It swung open and LeeMing stepped forward brandishing the carton and disappeared inside.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  It had been threatening rain and now the grey clouds gave way. Rain pattered on the tiles of the mansion.

  “Come on, or we’ll get soaked,” Marty said.

  They tucked themselves deep into an evergreen hedge. Under the thick foliage, the ground remained dry. Marty turned off her flashlight and they waited in the dark, crouched on a bed of pine-fragrant needles. Kal listened to the rain and a few minutes passed before Marty spoke.

  “So what's this about your father?”

  “You’ve never called him that before.”

  “I know,” Marty replied, “it seemed time to stop punishing a dead man for what he did to my best friend.”

  Kal was glad Marty couldn’t see her face. “You were right about him. I loved him you see, and that meant I forgave him. I never told you he took me to a firing range, even made me promise to take lessons.”

  Twigs snapped as Marty lost her balance. “Shit. Are you sure you’ve no idea what he was hiding?”

  “Not until recently.”

  Her friend remained silent. Marty was someone who'd broken the chain of inheritance and understood the struggle and personal cost.

  “At Judge Greeves house, Scott told me details about David Khan’s activities. I think it could be true.”

  “And it could be a pack of lies designed to break you down.”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t bear to tell you more, Marty. It’s too dreadful.”

  “Sure. Listen, Kal, do you remember when my Dad went to prison for mugging a pregnant woman on the estate? The next day at school you caught me running in tears from the girl’s toilets and you thought the victim's daughter and her friends were bullying me, don't you remember? You wanted to pick a fight with them.”

  “Yes, I remember.” They'd been eleven at the time, in their first year at secondary school. The victim's daughter, Tina, had been in her final year.

  “Can you imagine the shame of everyone knowing what a worm my father was? Thing is you were wrong about Tina, because she didn’t threaten me. I want to tell you what she really said because I’ll never forget it, she said, 'You don't need to look at me like that Marty King, it was your father who attacked my mother, not you.' That’s what made me cry, her fairness, when she could’ve destroyed me with a single word.”

  A cold raindrop trickled down Kal’s neck. It made her realise she was shivering violently.

  “What I’m saying is, whatever David Khan might have done, he isn't you. Whatever type of person he was, you’re different, you’re someone defiant and deep down good. I know you better than you know yourself and don’t you forget it.”

  Kal rested her head on the trunk of an evergreen. “I’m frightened, Marty. Sometimes I don’t trust myself. When I’m angry I get strange ideas, things go way out of proportion. I’ve been poisoned by him.”

  “Your father used you. He poured all his sick shit into you but he didn’t make you who you are.”

  “Didn’t he? Are you really sure about that? And what if he was a killer, a cold-blooded murderer? What would you think then?” Kal dug her fingernails into the rough bark and tore downwards. She hoped she’d make herself bleed. “Part of me is like him. I know it, I can feel it inside. And if he’s as monstrous and evil as I think, what does that make me?”

  “That’s bloody rubbish! It doesn’t make you anything. Who gives a shit about him - you’re better than that, whoever or whatever he was.”

  “I’ve got to know the truth - not knowing is driving me mad. I’m going to check out Scott's accusations, and forgive me Marty, it’s something I have to do alone.”

  Marty thumped the ground. “Fuck it, I knew you were going to say that. Just remember I know you, Kal, and whatever you find out, however bad it is, don’t ever forget that I trust you.”

  ***

  Almost one hour later they heard the door latches being pulled back. They uncurled cramped limbs and crouched at the ready. Kal could hear Marty’s quick breaths as she readied herself.

  “It’s LeeMing,” Marty hissed.

  “Looks
like he’s alone.”

  The three of them ran for Marty’s car. Marty started the engine.

  “Let's get the hell out of here,” LeeMing said.

  “Tell me what you found. There are no children in the house? You're certain of it?”

  “I searched thoroughly and there are no children I promise you, although there was this, I found it under a bed.”

  Kal searched LeeMing’s face. His lips were tight. She’d never seen him looking so drawn. He reached into his pocket and threw an object onto the seat and Kal reached over to pick up the black, remote control unit.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Known for its risqué vibe, Soho had long been one of Kal’s favourite haunts in central London. Soho encompassed vibrant Chinatown, and though it covered merely one square mile of the West End, Soho didn't waste one iota of space. The narrow streets were packed with an amazing variety of bars, food venues and nightlife. As a centre for the sex trade dating back two hundred years, Soho also hosted sex shops and burlesque shows, even though it was situated a few minutes’ walk from up-market Covent Garden and the prestigious theatre district.

  The man Kal had come to meet had the unlikely name of Dante Jones.

  Walking down Wardour Street, Kal passed her preferred Chinese restaurant. The Wong Kei’s deceptively modest façade belied its capacity to seat five hundred diners. After their first regional tournament, Master Yeung had brought the kung fu club here to celebrate. They'd had a wonderful evening, and it was that event which sparked her love of all things Soho. Kal shivered. She anticipated her meeting with Dante would alter her feelings about Soho beyond repair.

  Despite its considerable, up-market transformation over the years, Soho couldn't quite kick its seedy atmosphere, nor its characteristic odour of Chinese food, thanks to an abundance of garbage and spills. Kal turned down a back alley. She'd never entered one of the sex venues before, still, there was a first time for everything.