The Sky Might Fall (Harry Vee, PI)

by Michael Young

  “Where was this? How did Andrew find out?”

  “He said it was in Chongqing. He said he saw a big warehouse where they kept the pieces. Only it was mostly empty, because they’d all been sold. A local official told him they came from the army.”

  “Is that where he bought his piece?” She nodded, stubbing out her cigarette. “Where did he keep it?”

  “In his apartment. It was in a glass case, but it was only a tiny bit. It just looked like scrap metal to me, but strange, kind of sparkly. Andrew said that nobody knew what kind of metal it was. Because it was alien.”

  “How did your father get involved?”

  “I don’t know. Most of the pieces were bought by an American, I guess. Andrew said my father was being paid to send them to America.” She smiled to herself. “It sounds so stupid. But then Andrew said he was being followed, and that seemed to prove it. That’s why I moved from his flat, to stay at Mathew’s place.”

  “Who’s Mathew?”

  “I was in his apartment. He’s Chinese, but his family lives in Scotland. He’s visiting them now so his place was empty. Sandra would bring me food. She looked after me when I became sick.” Mui’s face turned down, at the thought of Sandra.

  Harry asked, “Did you like Sandra?”

  “Not especially,” said Mui. “She was kind of cold, and we didn’t have anything in common. But she was very nice to me. I liked Mathew, he made me laugh all the time.” After a moment’s silence she stood up again and sat on the end of the bed, turning the TV on with the remote.

  Harry decided that meant this conversation was over. He stood up. “I guess I’d better take that shower.”

  She turned back and laughed at him, “About time, stinky.”

  *

  When Harry came out of the shower, Mui was lying face down on the bed in her vest, watching TV. She was idly kicked her feet in the air, and looked again like a normal teenage girl. He said, “I’m going shopping, what do you want for lunch?”

  She stood up and walked over to the desk. “I wrote you a shopping list.” She passed him the note and stood in front of him, bouncing up and down on her toes.

  He read down the note. “Shoes?”

  “Sneakers. In case we have to make a run for it. Also, a book, magazines, nail polish, nail polish remover. I need something to do while I’m hanging around, or I’ll go out of my mind. Oh, and cigarettes. Marlboro Lights please, those Chinese ones suck.” She grinned at him.

  “What colour nail polish?”

  “You choose,” she said, brightly, looking up at him. “Whatever you think will look good.”

  *

  Harry left the hotel cautiously, checking every parked car, every passer-by, every doorway for signs he was being watched or followed. He hailed a cab to Sham Shui Po Station, across northern Kowloon. He wanted to stay out of the centre of the city. When he got there he turned his phone on, and called Chang.

  “Harry, listen carefully. I’m being bugged, probably so are you, and Huang’s men are all over me. I can’t help you anymore. Good luck.” He hung up. Harry thought for a second, then turned the phone off and headed for the nearest high street. He tossed his phone into a trashcan, and bought a new pre-pay phone with cash. Then he called Jim James.

  “Harry, how’re you doing?”

  “The same as always.”

  “That bad, huh?” James chuckled. “Okay, you know I’ve been out for a couple of years, but I still got my friends in the Agency. I asked them to look up this girl of yours.”

  “And?”

  “Ex- CIA. Born in Queens. Got a degree in Computer Tech from Harvard. Speaks three languages, English, Chinese, and German. She spent two years in Langley, then Berlin, then Budapest. After that she went dark.”

  “Dark?”

  “Off the radar. Secret ops, or something. No way of finding out. Six years later she turns up in Washington, and a year after that she quits. Last known location was Shanghai. That was three years ago. She’s highly trained, Harry. Counter-espionage, surveillance, that sort of thing.”

  “Okay, thanks Jim.”

  “Always a pleasure. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “Yeah, keep your door open. I just might be paying you a visit.”

  “Anytime Harry, anytime.”

  Harry sat in a café, smoking a cigarillo and brooding. Without Chang, there wasn’t a great deal of help for them in Hong Kong. Kowloon City was too small to stay hidden forever, especially from somebody with Huang’s influence. Outside the city they were even more exposed. He started ringing around some other old acquaintances in the area. Several of them had been contacted by Huang’s people, or by Jessica Lee. It took him some time to get the phone number he wanted. He dialled, and a young man answered the phone in Japanese.

  “Moshi moshi?”

  “Mr Sasaki? My name is Harry. A mutual friend recommended you. I am very interested in some of your more specialised services.”

  *

  When Harry got back to the motel, Mui was still watching TV. She bounded across the room to inspect the shopping. “I was starving, but I thought I’d wait for you.” She pulled out a copy of Cosmopolitan, “Hurray.” Then she took out some bread, cheese and mayonnaise. “I hope you remembered to buy a knife. I’ll make sandwiches.”

  Harry took the things from her and set them on the table. Holding her by the shoulders, he positioned her against the wall. He took the new phone from his jacket.

  She looked up at him. “I had chocolate from the mini-bar. I hope you don’t mind. What colour nail polish did you buy?”

  “Silver. Glittery. It’ll look nice.”

  He took a couple of head and shoulder shots, then put the phone back in his pocket. “When’s your birthday?”

  She told him. “What kind of sneakers did you get me?”

  “Converse. Grey. They’ll match your nails.”

  “What are the pictures for?”

  He said, “Do you trust me?”

  She thought for a few moments. “Yes,” she said, looking him in the eye, “I think so.”

  “I think we need to leave.”

  She looked at him, chewing her lower lip. Finally she said, “Can we go to the police? Can’t they arrest Mr Huang?”

  “They’ve got nothing to pin on him, and we’ve got no evidence. Anyway, half the force is in his pocket. Until we can find out what’s going on, I think it’s the only way to keep you safe. We have to get out of Hong Kong.”

  She nodded slowly, and reached up and put her hands around his neck. “It’s okay. I trust you.”

  *

  After lunch, Harry left Mui lying on the bed, reading magazines. He took a cab to see Mr Sasaki. His store was a typical, tiny, backstreet shop, around the corner from the fruit market. Harry didn’t like coming this deep into Kowloon, but he needed Sasaki’s services. A tiny silver bell jangled as he walked in to the shop. Traditional style Japanese paintings lined every inch of wall ten deep. Mr Sasaki was sat at the back of the shop. He looked up from a book as Harry came in, and looked him over, rubbing his short goatee. He took off his thin, wire-frame glasses, and laid them on the small desk.

  “Mr Sasaki?”

  “Harry, I presume.” Harry nodded. “Come with me.” He took Harry through a curtained doorway to a cramped, windowless office at the back. Sasaki turned on the single bare bulb and Harry saw a crowded desk with a computer, and a worktable with a few hand tools. Stacks of textured paper and paintings filled all available floor space. “This is for you?”

  Harry shook his head. He reached into a zipped inside pocket, and took out a British passport. “It’s for a girl. But it’s got to match this one.”

  Sasaki inspected the passport. “Harold Greene? Excellent workmanship. Did you get this made in Hong Kong?”

  Harry didn’t reply, but gave him the phone and Sasaki downloaded the pictures of Mui. “She’s travelling as your wife?”

  “Daughter,” Harry said. “Adopted. Under the name Anita
Greene.”

  Sasaki looked at the picture, scratching his chin, then looked up at Harry. “Whatever you say, Mr Greene. You’re the customer. I’ll need a few more details, of course.”

  Ten minutes later, Harry was striding away from the store. He crossed the street to a small building with a convenience store, and restaurants and offices above it. Chang may have said he was out of it on the phone, but that was for the benefit of whoever was listening in. Harry knew he had backdoors, ways to communicate without being monitored. It just made things that bit more difficult. Entering the open hallway from the street he walked down the stairs to the PC room in the basement. He had some e-mails to send.

  *

  It was starting to get dark when Harry arrived back at the motel. Mui was dozing face down on the bed in Sandra’s sweatshirt. She woke as he poured himself a glass of scotch from the new shopping bags he was carrying. She unstuck the magazine from her face, and came over to him. “I was beginning to get worried.”

  Harry smiled at her. “Don’t fret. We’re safe here for a while.”

  She frowned, “That’s what Andrew said.” Then she brightened again, “I painted my nails, look.” She thrust a hand into his face.

  “Very nice. And your toes?”

  “I did, but then in a magazine it said you shouldn’t do both the same colour. So I took it off again. Now I’m not sure. Different colours would look strange, wouldn’t it?” She didn’t give him the chance to reply, assuming he knew nothing of such things. “What did you buy?” She rummaged through the bags. “Some new clothes for you. Good. Your old ones are getting a bit scruffy. And is this the good scotch, then? Can I have some?” She picked up the bottle of Cutty Sark from the desk.

  “It’s okay scotch, and you’re still too young.”

  She picked up his glass anyway, and took a sip. Her face curled up in disgust. “Christ, that’s disgusting. Can you get me some beer next time you go?”

  They had cup ramen with eggs stirred into it for dinner, then played cards again. Harry taught her to play poker, but she thought it was too complicated, so they played pontoon. After a while she got up to take her medicine, taking a cigarette from the desk at the same time.

  Harry said, “You smoke too much.” She gave him a sneering look, and lit it anyway, blowing the smoke in his direction. “Mui, what does the medicine do?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. If I stop taking it, I get sick like before.”

  “And that’s why you need it?”

  “My father said I’d been looking pale, and he booked me in to see a doctor. Then I went to the doctor and he did a lot of tests.”

  “What kind of tests?”

  “You know, blood tests, x-rays, sticking lots of big needles into me. I spent two weeks in hospital, having injections every day. Then he said I had to start taking the medicine. Then I started feeling bad, because of the medicine.”

  “You didn’t feel sick before that?”

  “No. The medicine gives me cramps, and I can’t sleep very well. But when I stopped taking the medicine I got a fever, and was sick everywhere. Dr Grant says it’s a blood infection. He didn’t tell me much about it. He would speak to my father, and my father would just say that Dr Grant was the very best, and he would make me well again. Then he said I had to go to America for treatment, and that was when I decided to leave.”

  “When did it start? When did you first see Dr Grant?”

  “A few months ago. Not long after I first met Andrew.”

  “When was that?”

  “September, so October I guess. Yes, I was in hospital for Halloween, I remember.”

  Harry nodded, thoughtfully. They played cards for a few hours, until Mui had lost all of her matches. She seemed to tire quickly. Her face became pale, and her eyes sunken and lined. She yawned. “Okay, I’m done. I’m going to bed.”

  Harry fixed himself another drink as she lay on the bed, flicking through a magazine picked up from the floor. Ten minutes later she stood up again, and stripped down to her vest and panties then walked over to Harry in his chair. Her face was sad and worn down. “Okay. I don’t think you’re a bad man,” she said.

  She took his arm and sat him on the bed, slipped under the covers and pulled him so that he was lying on top of the covers behind her, with his arm over her. She snuggled back against his body, staring at the wall in front of her. “What are we going to do, Harry?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  She hugged his arm, and was quiet again. In two minutes, she was asleep.

  *

  Mui woke him up early the next morning to watch the sun rise from the roof. After breakfast they took showers, Harry reading a book as he waited for her, while she read magazines with the TV on when it was his turn. When he came out in his fresh clothes, she said, “You look great. But it’s not much of a change. Why do you always wear black?”

  “I like it. Johnny Cash always wore black.”

  “Okay. Is he a singer? I heard of him, I think.”

  “Yes, he is. And besides, black doesn’t show up blood.” She laughed, and threw a pillow at him.

  The passport would be ready in three days, so they had a lot of time to kill. Harry took out her old dirty clothes and the bloodied shirt and towels in a rubbish bag, but he didn’t want to leave the room too often.

  They lazed around doing their own thing all morning. After lunch she said she was sorry for waking him so early, and insisted he get some sleep. She promised to wake him if bad men broke into the room. While Harry dozed, she read for a while, then looked out the small window as best she could, while she smoked. When she grew bored, she tried to do some exercises on the floor, but she still felt kind of weak, so she just sat on the carpet next to the bed, and watched TV with the sound down, sometimes glancing back to watch Harry while he slept.

  In the evening they played cards again, Mui sipping at a can of Tsingtao from the mini-bar. She said, “Harry, how come you don’t have anyone? A wife, girlfriend, family? Or do you have them hidden away somewhere?”

  “My parents are long gone,” he said. “No wife, no kids, no-one waiting at home.”

  “Why?”

  “Sometimes that’s just the way it works out.”

  “You must have had girlfriends before?”

  “I guess I never liked anyone enough to want to spend more time with them than I had to,” he said. Mui fell silent, and concentrated on her cards.

  They fell into the routine easily, each trying to give the other some space until they came together for meals and in the evening, and then Mui would pull Harry’s protective arm over her to fall asleep. On the last day, after lunch, Harry announced he was going out to get some things for their trip. “Good,” said Mui. “I need some clothes. Whoever saw a teenage girl flying without any luggage?”

  “Good point. You’d better tell me what you want, then.”

  Mui told Harry her sizes, and tried to explain the styles she wanted. She tried to keep it simple: a couple of tops, a long skirt, a blouse. “Do you think you can manage? Try to buy things that match. Get it all in one store. And one more thing, Harry.”

  “Yes Mui?”

  “You’re gonna have to buy me a bra.” Harry made a face. She went on, “Sorry, but you have to do it. You know how they turn up the A/C on airplanes. And you know what happens then, don’t you? We don’t want to attract attention, do we?”

  Harry went off with his list. When he came back, Mui was reading on the bed in her vest and knickers, as usual. She bounced up to see what Harry had bought. “These will do just fine, good job Harry,” she said, excitedly pulling clothes from the bag. “Oh, fantastic, you bought me a dress.” She pulled out the bra. “Okay, let’s see if it fits.” She went to the other side of the room, turned round, and stripped off her vest. Fastening the bra behind her back, she turned round to Harry again and held out her hands. “How does it look?”

  “It looks great,” said Harry.

  She walked up to him and p
ut her hands on his shoulders. “Thank you so much for everything, Harry. You’ve been so good to me.” She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips lingered close to his.

  Harry took her head in his hands and gently kissed her brow. He said, “My pleasure, Mui. Now let’s pack our things.”

  She turned away from him and stood still for a moment. Then she went over to the bags. Smiling again, she turned back to him and said, “I’m going to try on the dress. It looks great.”

  In the evening they played cards again, without talking much, their clothes already packed in the small bags Harry had bought so they could carry-on their luggage. Mui said, “I don’t even know where we’re going. What if I’ve got completely the wrong clothes? I didn’t think of that.”

  “Your clothes will be fine,” Harry said.

  She sipped at her beer, and lit another cigarette. “If it’s cold I’ll need to get a coat. Where are we going, Harry? Are we going to your home?”

  “We’re going to see a friend of mine. And you won’t need a coat.”

  “You have some friends?”

  “One.” She grinned at him. He added, “Okay, he’s an old business associate.”

  She laughed. “That sounds more like you. You don’t like people much, do you Harry?”

  “Not if I can help it.” Mui laughed again.

  When she climbed under the covers that night, she didn’t pull Harry onto the bed behind her. He turned off the TV and sat in his chair, finishing his scotch. He lit a cigarillo, and sat back to think. After a while he heard Mui’s voice drifting through the darkness. “Harry?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Don’t worry, Mui. We’ll go see my friend. You’ll be safer there.”

  “I know. It’s not that. What about the future? You can’t look after me forever. But I haven’t got anybody.”

  “We’ll sort you out. First we’ll get you safe, then we’ll sort you out. I’ll help you, I promise.”