by Lee Weeks
91
‘Was there a clue as to the production company?’ David asked.
‘No chance. But I’m having Ng analyse the film to see if it resembles any legit work we know of.’
‘There must be more films.’
‘Yes, Shrimp’s going back out to see the contact again – see if he can find out more. I think there’s going to be a lot more of these films, David. You know Hong Kong. We’ll copy anything. But this is going to involve some of our big guys. You know – the guys we can’t touch?’
‘We can only hope to bring justice for her and the others in the end.’
Mann looked at him – he knew that tone.
‘Save your bullshit for someone else. I can hear it in your voice – you’re already thinking, if Mann’s right and these are some big guns having themselves some fun with women with no family, no connections – in other words, no value – then we have no hope of getting justice for these women. The men who did this are untouchable. They will have enough power and enough money to buy their way out. I can’t live with that, David. I failed Helen. I failed that young woman in that film, and all the others like her. I owed them my protection and I failed them. We all failed them.’
‘This is Hong Kong – it isn’t all black and white, Mann.’
‘No, it’s all the colour of money, isn’t it, David?’
‘If that were true we wouldn’t be standing here, would we? I know you are frustrated, Mann, I know you would like things done differently. But don’t lose sight of the goal. Things don’t always come right when they are supposed to, but eventually people get what they deserve. A few years down the line they have to account for their misdeeds – even if they end up punished for something different, they get it in the end.’
Mann laughed – hollow and cynical. ‘Now that bit I do believe. But sometimes you have to hurry the process of retribution. Sometimes it doesn’t come quick enough and you have to give it a hand.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Today, after I saw the way that girl suffered, I know that I won’t be able to watch these men walk free, David. I just can’t do it.’
‘Mann …’ White held up his hand to speak, but Mann wouldn’t let him.
‘Listen to me, David. I just won’t do it. I won’t let those killers off the hook. If the Hong Kong police force can’t get justice for them, I will do it – my way.’
92
Mann left Headquarters and headed along Hollywood Road. He needed some head space and he knew where he’d find it. Past the antique shops and curio stalls he found Man Mo temple – the oldest temple on the Island, green tiled roof, the colour of oxidised bronze, red calligraphy on the doors. It epitomized the heart of Hong Kong – no matter how many Westerners came and went it would always be Chinese. The place was still an everyday place of worship for Taoists and Buddhists alike.
Mann slipped through the doors as the last rays of the sun were just hitting the roof of the temple. Inside the air was blue with smoke and the smell of sandal-wood from the large incense coils that hung suspended from the ceiling. He walked up the stone steps to the altar and stood for a few moments before the statues of the gods – Man Cheung, the God of literature, dressed in green, and Kwan Yu, the God of war, dressed in red. A few worshippers were offering up their gifts of fruit and flowers and others were knelt in prayer. Mann lit an incense stick and placed it in a large brass urn before kneeling beside one of them.
‘Hedging your bets, Johnny?’ Stevie Ho finished his prayers and reached up to place his incense in the urn in front of the God of war.
‘I wouldn’t call it hedging, Stevie. Looking at life from every angle, that’s all.’
‘Why did you ring me? What is it you want from me, Johnny?’
‘My ex-girlfriend, Helen, turned up as one of the victims of the Butcher. Now another friend of mine has gone missing.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I ask again what do you want from me?’
‘We think the Butcher doesn’t only kill the women himself; he sells them to the highest bidder to be used in snuff movies.’
‘Why did you think I would know anything about this, Johnny?’
‘Because the Butcher has friends in very high places – triad friends. Your friends.’
‘It could be anyone. There are many powerful triads.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong. The Butcher is a very special type of man. A man who doesn’t mind breaking every rule in the book as long as he can make money from it. It’s all about money and power, Stevie, isn’t it?’
Stevie looked at him. ‘I don’t know anything, Johnny.’ He looked riled. He stood, bowed to the deities and turned to Mann. ‘I will give you this piece of advice, Johnny: stay away from Chan. He’s growing tired of your persecution.’
Mann stood up, picked out the stick of incense that Stevie had placed in the urn and turned it upside down in the sand.
‘Thanks for the advice, Stevie. Now let me give you some – try and remember what’s right and what’s wrong because when the day of reckoning comes no amount of incense is going to save you.’
Mann walked out of the temple, leaving Stevie at the altar. He started the steep descent down Ladder Street. He wasn’t ready to go back to the office yet. He was sick and tired but his heart raced with adrenalin and anger. Mann checked his phone. Five missed calls. Unknown caller. He put it back in his pocket – it could wait. He was still trying to make his brain function methodically. It was a mess – a jumble of loose cables sparking off one another.
His phone rang again. He put his hand in his pocket and pressed the busy button. At the other end of the phone Kim crouched beside her bed, out of sight, and cursed Mann for not answering his phone. She estimated she had just fifteen minutes before the guard realised his phone was missing. She’d already used up twelve of those minutes trying to make Mann pick up.
A moped nearly ran Mann over. He cursed it as he jumped out of the way. His phone rang again. Whoever it was they could wait five fucking minutes … He fumbled in his pocket. He couldn’t find the busy button – he’d have to switch it off properly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed the answer button by mistake. Then he heard her voice.
‘Johnny?’
He stopped dead and cupped his ear over the phone. ‘Kim? Where the fuck are you?’ He felt enormous relief at hearing her voice.
‘I am some place that I wish I wasn’t, that’s for fuckin’ sure.’
‘You all right?’ She sounded petrified.
‘No, not really, Johnny.’
‘So, where are you?’
‘I have no fuckin’ idea. I am in a club called Sixty-Eight, Chan owns it. He conned me into coming here. He said he had this club with foreign hostesses and he needed me to look after them, be their mamasan. But there’s such weird shit going on here, Johnny, they’re not telling me about most of it. He has us all prisoners here. There’s no way to get out, believe me – I’ve tried.’
‘How long did it take you to get there? Did you drive?’
‘We helicoptered in – took about forty minutes. It’s in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere, Johnny. I have no idea. All I know is that we’re in mainland China.’
‘Do you remember what you saw on the way?’
‘We flew north over Kowloon, small villages, reservoirs, country parks. Then we turned towards the west. We flew over old industrial sites, great big craters, no one workin’ in them. We could be anywhere.’
‘It’s all right, Kim. I’ll find you. Is it heavily guarded?’
‘Yes.’
‘How many men are there? Are they armed?’
‘There are two dozen security officers here – at least – and all carry guns. Plus, there are about ten of Chan’s personal bodyguards that come and go. The whole place is a fortress.’
‘Are there any other foreign women there at the moment?’
‘There’s an English girl here … Georgina …’
‘Is she okay?�
��
‘Yes and no. They won’t let me see her. I don’t know whether she’s still alive.’
‘What about an Irish girl – Bernadette –?’
‘She was here – I don’t know where she is right now. I have to go, Johnny. I can’t stay on the phone. I stole it from one of the guards. He’s going to miss it anytime now.’
‘You watch yourself now. You be careful. I will get there as fast as I can. I want to see you safe and sound, Kim, do you understand?’
‘You get here, Johnny. I’m gonna luv you forever. But be quick.’
93
‘Kim said she flew west over an old industrial site. She said there were craters. Find me some disused mines – about forty minutes’ helicopter ride from here. That’s where the girls are.’
Ng’s finger hovered above the page.
‘Here.’ Ng traced a line of pock marks on the map.
‘Kim says they have Bernadette and Georgina out there. That’s where our girls will have been going, for sure.’ He stopped in the doorway. ‘I’ve already told the Super. He’s organising transport. I’ll go and tell him we’re almost ready to leave. And Ng … guess what it’s called?’
Ng shook his head.
‘I’ll give you a clue. How many burns on Gosia’s chest?’
‘Sixty-eight.’
‘Yep – the two luckiest numbers in Hong Kong. Club Sixty-Eight.’
He arrived in David White’s office. As soon as the Superintendent put the phone down Mann asked: ‘Have we got the permission we need to cross over into the mainland?’
White looked up.
‘You’re not going to like what I have to say, Mann.’
‘Then don’t say it.’
‘We’ve been denied permission. Until the proper paperwork is completed – permits granted.’
‘Until they have time to hide all the evidence, you mean?’
‘I tried, Mann. They want it to be investigated by the local police over the border in Hicksville. We have already received orders to stay out.’
‘Well, they can want all they like. I’m not staying out.’
‘I know better than to waste my breath. I’ll help as far as I can. Who are you going to take?’
‘I’ll take Ng and Li and five men from the Police Tactical Units. See if we can find a sniper as well.’
‘Is that going to be enough?’
‘It will have to be – I don’t want to involve anyone else. Shrimp will brief the PTUs. While he’s doing that I need to find out all I can about this place before we get there. Can you get me a helicopter?’
‘Yes. But for Christ’s sake don’t prang it. I’ll be in enough trouble when they find out I authorised this.’
Mann got up to leave.
‘And Mann … For Christ’s sake, come back alive.’
94
Georgina lay on her bunk. Her eyes were gill-like slits. Her face was the colour of cheap jade. Her body barely registered breath.
‘Amber, I got good news.’ Kim sat down beside her. She used the name the club had given Georgina, in case they were overheard.
‘You got a client – we need to get you ready.’
There was not a flicker from Georgina. Her eyes did not change track.
‘Come on, Amber!’
Finally, Georgina stirred. ‘Now?’ She winced as she spoke; her cracked lips were Sahara-dry. She hadn’t worked since the night she’d had to be resuscitated and her heroin doses had been upped to keep her sedated.
‘Yeah, you have to get up right now. I’ll help you, but you have to hurry.’
Georgina raised herself up super-slowly from the bunk and swung her legs off the side, one at a time. She struggled to sit upright and then, that achieved, sat swaying unsteadily.
‘Come on, you can do it.’ Kim leaned in and whispered in Georgina’s ear: ‘Be brave, be strong – you are going home – but for fuck’s sake hurry up!’ Kim tried getting her to her feet.
‘Come on now, Amber, I will help you get into your costume. Tonight you are a Geisha.’
Georgina groaned and slumped back down onto the bed.
‘No, it’s all right, Amber, don’t worry, it’s not like last time.’ Kim leaned closer again while pretending to brush Georgina’s hair from the side of her face, and whispered: ‘Georgina, listen to me! I am trying to get you out of here. Someone is coming to help us – we must get ready.’
‘Leave me alone – please. Leave me alone.’
The words cracked in Georgina’s throat. Kim stroked Georgina’s back, speaking in hushed tones.
‘Don’t give in to people like Lucy and Chan: they are just fuckin’ leeches – low-lifes. Don’t let the bastards do it to you, Georgina. Fight it! Find the strength inside to live, not for anyone else, but for yourself. But right now we have to get out of here. I need you to be ready.’
‘Please leave me. I don’t want to go anywhere.’
‘Stand up! Don’t be a victim, Georgina. Don’t let anyone use you as a fuckin’ punch-bag. Stand up! Get the gloves on and start fightin’ back! Believe me, your life is not over yet …’
Kim stopped abruptly. Chan was standing behind her.
‘But yours is, Kim. Punch-bag – dartboard … Good idea; my men need a bit of knife-throwing practice …’
95
Mann checked his watch. It was one a.m. The five PTUs were led by their commander, Ting – a senior police officer with many years’ service. They had picked up weapons and flak jackets from the armoury and driven to Central police station where there was a helicopter waiting on the roof. Mann knew the pilot, Peter Wong. They had been on many a dawn raid together at the OCTB. Mann was glad to see him. Not only was Wong the best pilot in the force, he was also a firearms expert and an expert sniper. Mann needed all the help he could get. Plus, he had Mann’s brand of bravery – business as usual – job done. When David White had asked Wong if he’d be willing to fly on this mission, he hadn’t hesitated.
Mann sat next to Wong to help navigate. He gave him the co-ordinates and spread the map out on his lap. They had an approximate idea where it was, but they could not be sure. They were relying on a visual when they got that far. The helicopter rose, hovered, picked up more height, turned, and flew north.
The bright lights and blazing neon soon petered out to sporadic clusters of brilliance as they flew over Kowloon and the small fishing villages of the New Territories. Soon there was only dense, dark woodland below and visibilty was down to nil. Skirting Shenzhen, they flew over the reservoir and the country parks. They had been flying for thirty-five minutes when the terrain below transformed from green lush countryside into wasteland. They were flying over a redundant, ransacked former Industrial Economic Zone. Old quarries, plundered and now deserted, pockmarked the darkness below in ugly black holes.
Mann knew that they were looking for a large complex somewhere in the vicinity. He consulted his map and signalled to the pilot to head north-west. A few minutes later he saw it – half a mile ahead – a glow coming from the ground, as if from a buried town.
There was an air of reverence in the helicopter as each man watched the halo of light grow on the horizon.
Li broke it. ‘Awesome! What is it? It’s like a volcano.’
‘Be alert. We could be expected,’ Mann shouted back from the cockpit. Perimeter lights appeared below.
Li’s face was glued to the window. ‘It looks like a golf course.’
‘It is,’ said Ng. ‘I had time to find out a bit about it before we left. The whole thing is about four square kilometres.’
‘He must have had a heck of a job building this,’ Mann said, looking down at the neat lawns, dotted lakes and illuminated bunkers.
‘The grass, the trees – it’s all imported,’ said Ng.
Li leaned across Ng to get a better view. ‘Look at that – in the next quarry … it’s like a giant birthday cake!’ he screeched.
Ahead of them, as one quarry led into the other, a building stood f
our storeys high, coming halfway up the quarry-side. It was made primarily of glass. As they neared, they could see that it wasn’t one building, it was two – connected in the middle and forming the numbers Sixty-Eight. They flew towards it.
‘Smoke! I smell smoke. Anyone else?’ said Mann.
‘Yes. I can see it,’ replied Ng. ‘It’s in the air below us …but I can’t see any fire.’
They hovered directly over the Eight building, blasting the rooftop palms and rippling the surface of the swimming pools.
‘Awesome!’ Li grinned. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Let’s hope you never will again,’ said Mann grimly.
96
‘They know we’re coming, otherwise they would have come out by now. They must have been tipped off somehow.’ Mann felt that knot in his stomach, the one that told him he’d missed something important and it was too late to alter it now. ‘Okay, let’s set her down.’
They readied themselves, and checked their guns. The PTUs attended to their own preparations with precise calm. They all carried police-issue Glock 9mm handguns and standard police-issue HK MP5 sub-machine guns. Ng carried just a handgun. He was a good shot, he’d had plenty of practice over the years. Mann carried both a handgun and a sub-machine gun. Shrimp carried a surprise.
Peter Wong set the helicopter down on a landing pad one hundred metres from the palm-lined walkway leading to the main entrance of the Eight building.
‘We’ll cross in pairs. Get to the main entrance. Use the trees for cover. We stick together until we find out what and how many people we are up against. Wong will use the helicopter as cover and pick off what he can. Agreed?’
There was a grunt of agreement. Wong killed the engine. It was two a.m. The night was warm and sticky in the quarry base. So far there’d been no sound of a reception committee, but Mann knew it was just a matter of time.
