Dragon Head - A Beatrix Rose Thriller: Hong Kong Stories Volume 1 (Beatrix Rose's Hong Kong Stories Book 3)

by Dawson, Mark

  “His name is Gao. Filthy rich. Multi millions. Billions, probably. Investment.”

  “He certainly likes throwing his money around.”

  “Likes to put on a show. Bit vulgar, you ask me.”

  “I think I did read something about him once,” she said. “Not very complimentary.”

  The man leaned in and spoke conspiratorially. “The thing about the triads? Listen, you want to know a secret? Everyone here is involved with the triads, one way or another. That orange juice you’re drinking? That’s cash we just laundered for them.”

  She pretended to be a naïf. “This is a triad place?”

  He laughed at her ingenuousness. “They own everywhere. Hong Kong. The whole bloody peninsula belongs to them.”

  She was about to tell him that she would take another orange juice when Gao swore loudly, pushed away from the table and stood.

  “Oh dear,” the man said. “Someone’s not very happy.”

  She had been distracted, but it was obvious that he had lost. He cursed again, barked invective at the croupier and made for the exit. A member of staff hurried after him, trying to get him to stay, but Gao ignored him.

  Beatrix reached into her bag and took out her phone. She sent the prepared text.

  —NOW.

  She didn’t know whether she would have enough time. She had expected to have been able to give Chau notice, but that would have meant that Gao had given her the notice that he was about to leave, and he had surprised her. Chau was waiting outside. It looked like she was going to have to rely on his initiative, and that wasn’t something that filled her with confidence.

  “Where are you going?” the man said to her.

  “Nice to meet you,” Beatrix said. “I’m late for an appointment. Thanks for the drink.”

  #

  THE LIMOUSINE was parked in front of the entrance. Chau was standing on the same side of the road, fifty feet to the north. He was smoking a cigarette, and pretending to hold a conversation on his cell phone. She was relieved. He was exactly where he was supposed to be and doing exactly what she had told him to do. He saw her come out of the casino and started to proceed along the pavement in the direction of the limousine.

  Gao was on the pavement, the two girls close behind him.

  Beatrix had an elevated position on the steps and could see to the picnic tables and the parking lot. The three bodyguards were running for the Discovery.

  They had been caught off guard, too.

  Beatrix smiled at the two doormen as she descended the stairs.

  She reached into her bag.

  The chauffeur stepped out of the front of the Hummer and opened the rear kerbside door.

  Gao paused to let the two girls get into the car. They giggled as they ducked down and slid into the cabin. Beatrix caught a glimpse of crystal tableware, shards of light glittering off a chrome ice bucket. A blacked-out partition separated the driver from the passenger compartment. That was good. She paced herself carefully so that she was on the pavement beside the chauffeur just as he closed the rear door and turned to get back into the car himself.

  He didn’t get the chance.

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  He paused and turned back in her direction. “Yes?”

  She nodded down at her bag. “One of those girls left this inside.”

  The suspicion melted from the man’s face. “Here,” he said, holding out his right hand. “Give it to me.”

  She pulled her hand out of her bag, the Glock clasped in a loose grip. Her index finger was inside the trigger guard, the trigger pressed up tight against the pad of her index finger. The chauffeur’s eyes bulged and he took a step back, his foot slipping off the kerb so that he stumbled back against the frame of the door.

  The two doormen clocked what was going on and started down the stairs.

  “No,” Chau said, pulling his little Kel-Tec Saturday Night Special and waving it at them. The doormen stopped halfway to the pavement.

  Beatrix reached for the chauffeur and, with her left hand, grabbed his jacket and yanked him away from the car. He fell over onto his knees and she kicked him in the ribs with the point of her shoe. He gasped in pain and folded his arms around his chest.

  “Now, Chau.”

  Beatrix had gambled that, if they were quick enough, Gao would not realise what was going on outside his car. She had been pleased that the two girls were there to accompany him. They would make for an excellent distraction. She opened the rear door and slipped inside. The limousine was a riot of bad taste. It was equipped with three mirrored LCD TVs, stainless-steel headliners, and twinkle fibre optics on the ceiling and around the full-length champagne bar. It had two large bench seats facing each other and another that extended between them along the side of the car that was flush against the kerb. Gao was sitting in this seat, his back to the action outside. The girls would have been able to notice it had they been looking, but one was occupied with trying to open a bottle of champagne and the other was nuzzling into Gao’s neck.

  The girl with the champagne saw her. “Hey!” she protested.

  Beatrix heard Chau shut the front door and the engine throbbed as he fed it revs.

  “Get out!” the girl said to Beatrix, and then screamed as Beatrix showed her the Glock.

  “Goodbye.” Beatrix nodded to the open door and waved the gun at them.

  The girls quickly got the picture. They grabbed their clutch bags and stumbled out into the street.

  Gao cursed in Cantonese and started to rise. Beatrix turned the gun on him.

  He sat down again.

  She crouched and reached for the door, yanking it shut just as Chau let off the handbrake and pulled away.

  #

  BEATRIX SAT in the rear seat at ninety degrees to Gao, but close enough to reach out and touch him should she need to. She regarded him and carried out a quick assessment. He was angry and confused. Beatrix could sympathise. He had lost money at the roulette wheel and now his plans for the rest of the evening had taken an unexpected turn for the worse.

  He jabbered angrily at her in Cantonese.

  Beatrix ignored him.

  Chau accelerated and the automatic locks clicked, securing the doors from anyone outside the vehicle. Keeping the gun trained on Gao’s head, Beatrix turned and looked back through the rear window. She saw the chauffeur on the side of the road, shaking his fist at them. The two doormen were next to him, one of them with a cell phone pressed to his ear. They needed to move quickly. They would report the hijack to the police and a car as ostentatious as this would be easy to find, even in a city that was as flush with excess as Hong Kong.

  They rushed by the parking lot. Beatrix craned her neck around and saw the crippled Discovery. It was crawling onto the road, all four tyres completely flat. The guards were out of the game.

  Beatrix would have been more confident if she had been driving, but she couldn’t have trusted Chau to keep Gao under control. This could only be a two-person job, and he had to be the driver. She needed him to follow through.

  Gao spat out another burst of invective that Beatrix was unable to translate. She didn’t need to. She could guess what it comprised: indignation, threats, bluster. She knew Gao’s type. He was an important man, used to getting his own way. This would be an outrageous imposition. Perhaps he thought that he could shout and threaten his way out of it? If he did, he was mistaken. Next, he would try to buy his way out, asking her how much she wanted. That wouldn’t work, either.

  He fired another volley of abuse at her and, when that had no effect, he tried to raise himself out of his seat. Beatrix was ready for that. She turned her hand ninety degrees, reached across the cabin and drove the butt of the Glock into his nose. He fell back onto the seat again. Blood ran out of his right nostril onto his upper lip. He reached up with his fingers and dabbed at it. She turned her wrist again so that the barrel was pointing straight at his head and put her left finger to her lips. Quiet. He looked at her with newfou
nd fear and was silent.

  The Hummer was too big and the traffic too dense for Chau to drive quickly. He proceeded with care instead, following Jaffe Road onto the tangle of on and off ramps that gave access and egress to the main highway that ran east to west across the island. He picked up speed a little, passing the Wan Chai Sports Ground, the Royal Yacht Club and the Police Officers’ Club. Eventually, they reached the docks and Chau turned off just before North Point Ferry Pier. He swung onto Wharf Road, passing beneath the thicket of cranes that serviced the freighters that delivered and collected goods from the port.

  Beatrix turned to Gao. “I’m sorry about this. I would have made an appointment, but things are urgent and I doubt that you would have taken it.”

  He replied with another flurry of furious Cantonese.

  “English, please. I know you speak it.”

  He glared at her, but switched languages. “Do you know who I am?”

  “I do.”

  “Then you know that this will get you killed?”

  She held up the gun again. “You’re in no position to make threats. And it’s rude, especially when I’m here to help you.”

  “To help me?”

  “You’ll agree in a minute.”

  “Who are you?”

  “That doesn’t matter. What matters is what I want to show you, and what it means for your immediate future.”

  His eyes flashed. “What do you mean?”

  “Here. Look.”

  She took out the cell phone that she bought earlier and tossed it onto the seat next to him. The video was queued up and ready to play. She watched his face as he looked down at the screen. His expression was of irritated curiosity to start with, but, as he looked at the still image, he must have remembered where it had been shot and what the footage might contain. His eyes widened and she saw him swallow.

  “Play it.”

  He didn’t look away as he pressed his finger to the screen. The soundtrack was tinny through the phone’s cheap speakers, but more than clear enough for the nature of the transaction to be audible. Gao stared at the screen, unable to take his eyes away. He watched it for twenty seconds before he pressed his finger to the screen again to stop it and handed it back to her as if it was suddenly scalding his fingers.

  “You’ve seen that before, haven’t you?”

  He looked out of the window, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His skin had a blotchy funereal pallor.

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’m guessing it was emailed to you. The girl—what was her name?”

  “Liling.”

  “That’s right. And Liling tried to blackmail you with it, didn’t she?”

  He folded his hands in his lap and looked down at the floor of the limo.

  “Look at me,” she said. He did, and she proffered the Glock. “If you don’t answer my questions, I’ll shoot you in the knee. Do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  “What did she do?”

  “She emailed it to me and said that it would be sent to the press if I didn’t pay her. One million US. That was her price.”

  “And?”

  “And if I had paid her, what good would that do me? She would still have the video. She would come back for more and I would be in the same situation again. I am a family man. My company relies on family values. Chinese values. This would be…it would be very destructive. My companies would suffer. Jobs would be lost.”

  “And so you told your triad friends.”

  He nodded. “She brought it on herself,” he said, as if that was justification enough for what Beatrix now knew must have happened to Grace’s sister.

  “They killed her?”

  He looked away.

  Beatrix slapped him with her left hand. “Answer the question.”

  “They said that they would make the problem go away. They said it was finished.”

  “But she didn’t have the video on her.”

  “No. But they said that they would be able to find it.”

  She laughed without humour. “They tried.”

  “You knew Liling? She gave it to you?”

  She held up the gun again. “See this? It means I’m asking the questions.”

  “So, what is this? You are going to blackmail me now? How much do you want?”

  “I don’t want money.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Just your help. You are a very wealthy and influential man, Mr. Gao. Well connected in the Hong Kong underworld. Would that be a fair assessment?”

  He shrugged uncomfortably.

  “I am afraid I have a dispute with someone from the underworld. His name is Mr. Ying. You know Mr. Ying, I believe. He is responsible for the whores you enjoy so much.” She used his word, loading it with bile and daring him to look away from her. He did, and she slapped him again. “Liling used to work for him. You do know Ying, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said bitterly.

  “He was the man you went to for help?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he killed Liling.”

  Quieter, “Yes.”

  She took the phone and held it up. “Did you ever wonder how this was filmed?”

  She could see the penny drop. For a smart man, he was remarkably slow on the uptake.

  “It wasn’t Liling. Ying filmed this to use against you in the future. Liling tried to take advantage of it, but he is responsible for it. He is not your friend, Mr. Gao.”

  “And you are?”

  “No. But Mr. Ying has something that I want. I have something that he wants. Unfortunately, what I want is worth more to me than what this footage is worth to him, and he knows that. I do not have the advantage. He has asked me to do something that I am not prepared to do. But if I don’t do it, he will hurt someone who has already suffered enough. Someone who doesn’t deserve to be caught up in all of this.”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  “I want Mr. Ying out of the way. I imagine that’s something you would like, too?”

  He gave a small nod, as if even the act of acknowledging it was treacherous and dangerous.

  “I can make that happen, Mr. Gao. But to do that, I need help to get to him. That’s where you come in.”

  “What help?”

  “Mr. Ying is a Dai Lo.”

  “Yes?”

  “And I need to speak to the Dragon Head.”

  He spoke fearfully. “Mr. Yeung?”

  It was the first time that she had heard the name. Even Chau didn’t know the identity of the boss.

  “I need to talk to him. Urgently. You need to make that happen.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  BEATRIX WAITED in the hotel room.

  She changed into trousers and a T-shirt.

  She made preparations for what she hoped would come next.

  She looked at the practicalities of getting across the border.

  She packed a bag with the things that she would need, then she distracted herself with two hours in the mall, buying the things that she thought that Grace might need.

  She bought train tickets in soft sleeper class, a four-berth cabin for them to share.

  Chau delivered the fake passports that she had requested: a British one for her and a Chinese one for the girl. Hong Kong was not treated as part of the mainland for immigration purposes, so her passport had been stamped with a Chinese entry visa. It would allow her to stay in China for three months. Grace’s passport would allow her to stay indefinitely. They both looked authentic, and she was confident that they would get them safely out of Hong Kong.

  She sat cross-legged on the bed, maintained the Glock and counted out her ammunition. Two magazines. Twenty rounds. She hoped that would be enough.

  She stared at her watch. Time passed. She stared at her phone, willing it to ring. It didn’t. She paced the room. Hours passed. She exercised, pumping out a thousand sit-ups and another thousand crunches until she was covered in sweat. She stared at the phone. She c
hecked that it was charged. Still nothing.

  The deadline came and went.

  #

  HER TELEPHONE finally rang two hours after the deadline had expired.

  “Hello?”

  “Who is this?”

  “I am a friend of Mr. Gao.”

  His English was accented just a little. She didn’t recognise the voice. “Mr. Yeung?”

  “Never mind who I am.”

  It didn’t matter, and she didn’t care. “You know where the girl is?”

  “I do.”

  She wanted to tell him that he was late, that he should have called hours ago, that the delay might have cost Grace her innocence, but there was no profit in doing any of that. She bit her lip between her teeth and then said, her voice hard as iron, “Where?”

  “Mr. Ying has many brothels in Kowloon. I understand you visited one before Mr. Qi’s untimely demise?”

  “Get to the point. Which brothel is it?”

  “It is on Jordan Road. Find Jaguar Shoes. It is a front. The brothel is above. The girl is held on the third floor.”

  “How well guarded is it?”

  “Reasonably well. But not so well that it would be an impediment for someone such as you.”

  The man had a slightly supercilious tone, and laughter danced at the edges of his words.

  “I don’t know who you are, but, if you are lying to me, I’ll find Gao again. Before I kill him, I’ll make him tell me who you are. And then I’ll kill you.”

  “I am not lying. We have been watching you. I have no doubt you mean what you say, and I believe that you would try to do it, too. We respect someone with the dedication to do what they promise they will do. Good luck in Kowloon, although I do not believe you will need it.”

  The line went dead.

  Beatrix took her Glock and spare magazines and hurried to the door.

  #

  BEATRIX RODE the MTR to Jordan Station. She was carrying her bag and the bag that she had packed for Grace. It was eight in the evening by the time she emerged at street level, and the area was bathed in neon. Jordan Street was a narrow canyon, with tall buildings on either side making it feel claustrophobic. The walls were disfigured by air-conditioning units and enormous hoardings. Lines of red flags were strung overhead and lanterns were suspended between the lamp posts. Glowing signs advertised FOOT REFLEXOLOGY and CITY HAIRDRESSING. Scores of handwritten notices written on Day-Glo cards were plastered onto the facades of the shops. They advertised girls from Russia, China, Hong Kong and Thailand. Prices were scrawled next to the nationalities. There were karaoke bars, saunas and massage parlours. Grocery shops offered racks of postcards. Pedestrians idled, some walking down the middle of the street. Traffic growled and horns sounded. Crashing dance music played from the open doorway of a mobile phone shop. The night was close and oppressively hot, the air full of smog that clotted her nostrils and stung the back of her throat. Overhead, the sky was a mass of blacks and purples and, in the distance, a peal of thunder sounded.