“Anjing!!” he screamed at me pointing the pistol in my face.
I thought his eyes would pop out from his head. The door slammed again leaving the room dark. I stood up and flicked the switch of the light to take a look around. By then the vibrations and the rumbling of the giant engine had changed pitch and there was a slight sensation of movement in the hull. I knew then that the giant yacht was leaving its mooring and getting underway. With a renewed sense of urgency, I began pulling at the mattresses and cushions on the shelves to see if there was anything I could use to my advantage. It was behind a pile of tattered cushions on the bottom shelf that I found the glass bottle of clear turpentine. I popped the cork and the pungent smell of the cleaning spirit filled my nostrils. I felt my pockets and noticed that during the body search, although they had removed everything else, they had failed to find my cigarette lighter. I brought it out and flicked it to check it still worked. The flame flickered in front of my eyes. I felt the hull tilt slightly and heard the revs of the massive engine increase. I knew then we had left the marina and were on our way. Hurry Green! I got down on my haunches and began tearing at the cushions that lay scattered around my feet. They were filled with a fluffy fibrous material that was pure white in colour. Within a minute I had amassed a substantial pile of the stuff which I packed in the far corner of the room under one of the steel shelves.
I stood up and pulled the mattresses from the storage recess above the door and then took a look at the ceiling. The smoke alarm and the fire sprinkler were positioned near each other on the centre of the ceiling. Even if the sprinkler activated, its spray would be unable to reach the cushion stuffing where I had placed it under the shelf. I stepped on to the second shelf on the left and gripped the railing above the door. The position offered a great vantage point from which to kick at the door from a height. With my plan finalised I jumped back on to the floor and pulled the cork from the bottle of turpentine. I poured the contents liberally over the fluffy cushion stuffing I had placed under the shelf. The choking fumes filled the tiny space. Outside, in the engine room the revs of the giant engine increased again and I knew we were now out in the open water of the harbour. Do it now before it's too late Green! I took a brief moment to hyperventilate then crouched down and lit the soaking pile of cushion stuffing with the lighter. It immediately burst into an intense blue flame and started belching thick clouds of noxious black smoke. Holding my breath, I turned around and climbed on to the second shelf and gripped the railing above the door. The fire alarm activated as I took my position and immediately there was the sound of a loud siren throughout the ship accompanied by the fierce spray of the fire sprinklers. The pile of cushion stuffing under the shelf burned on unaffected and continued to produce choking clouds of thick black smoke. I reached down and flicked the light switch off and then began kicking at the door repeatedly with my right foot.
“Fire!!” I screamed as my foot pounded the steel door “Fire!”
My eyes began to burn from the smoke in the darkness to I screwed them shut and continued kicking. On the deck above I heard the panicked sound of running footfalls. The invisible acrid smoke cut at my throat and for a few seconds I thought I might fall from the railing. Finally, I heard the sound of the door being opened and I readied myself for the swing. The blueish light of the engine room filled the blackened room and holding the railing above the door, I swung my feet outwards and kicked blindly as hard as I could with both feet. The blow connected with the centre of Liko's chest and sent him sprawling backwards over the thick steel pipe behind him. We both landed simultaneously on the deck and I heard the loud clatter of the pistol on the floor next to me. The force of the blow had knocked it out of his hand. I picked up the pistol and raised it as Liko recovered and launched himself at me with a winded snarl. His fingers were like claws and his moon face almost purple with rage. The sound of the shot hurt my ears in the confined space. The bullet hit him just under his left eye and I saw his face collapse as the body slumped and fell on to the steel deck. By then I was soaking wet from the sprinklers and the fire alarm was loud enough to pierce my ears. The blue lights in the engine room were now flashing along with the red emergency fire alarm light. Still the engine held its revs and there was a definite feeling of movement in the hull. I leapt over the dead body of Liko and ran down the lower corridor to the stairwell.
I stood with my back to the wall nearby and readied myself for the climb. With a quick wipe of my eyes from the water of the sprinklers I spun around and pointed the gun up the stairs holding it with both hands. There was no one in sight and the water dripped down the padded cream vellum walls in torrents. I climbed the spiral staircase steadily with the gun held in readiness in front of me. Suddenly there was panicked shouting and the thud of footfalls nearby. One of the other men who had taken me below flew around the top entrance to the stairs and gripped the polished chrome banister. The look of shock on his face as he saw me was priceless. The bullet slammed into his solar plexus and his dying body tumbled towards me. I grabbed the man's shirt with my left hand and threw him noisily down the stairs behind me. Above me there were more shouts and confusion and I realised I would soon be totally outnumbered. Fucking get out now Green! I made it to the second deck in the soaking wet and flashing lights and pointed the gun down the corridor towards the dining area. Running towards me from the lounge were two men I did not recognise. I let off a single round and the two men immediately ducked behind one of the couches. I heard a wail of pain as I backed away looking over my shoulder for any other attackers. In the darkness of the narrow corridor I saw the exit door to the lower port gunwale on my right. I opened the door and stepped out into the cool fresh air. With the gun still in hand I leapt over the polished chrome rail and fell blindly into the vast blackness of the ocean below. My body slammed into the water and I was tossed around like a rag doll while submerged for a good thirty seconds. My head finally broke the surface in the creamy churning wake of the giant yacht as it powered away in the moonlight. I put the gun in my belt and began to tread water all the while dreading the captain would turn around and attempt to find me. Thankfully he didn't and I can only put it down to the death and confusion aboard.
It was only when the Dragon of The Seas was a pinprick of light on the horizon that I finally gave some thought to my predicament. I turned in the water and saw the lights of Hong Kong city twinkling behind me. There was no way I could tell how far out from land I was but I became aware of a powerful current that tugged at my arms and legs. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realised it was slowly pulling me back towards the lights. I lay on my back, stared at the stars above and allowed my body to relax and float. It was half an hour later when the throbbing in my head gradually began to mingle with the steady thud of a nearby motor. I turned in the water to see my body had been carried a good distance and boats of the Royal Yacht Club Marina were clearly in view in the moonlight to my left. Behind me about fifty metres away was a sampan. Its hanging yellow lights swung in the choppy water as it chugged slowly towards the sampan rank, I had used earlier. I yelled repeatedly until I heard a reply from the driver and saw the tiny boat change course and make its way towards me. Two minutes later I was dragged aboard the ancient wooden boat by a frightened looking young man who spoke no English at all. Looking like a drowned rat I sat on the wooden bench seat and wearily pointed at the sampan rank.
“Take me there please,” I said quietly.
Chapter 25: Tower of Ivory
THE CRAWL SPACE BETWEEN the two massive industrial cooling towers was dark, cramped and dirty. I glanced at my watch to see it had just gone 11.00 pm. I had been sitting there for seven full hours on the 74th floor of the massive Highcliffe building. Above me, on the roof of the giant skyscraper, was the helicopter pad for the wealthy residents of the building who couldn't be bothered with the city traffic. The two windowless floors where I was hiding were part of an area usually reserved for service staff and workmen. They were filled with giant water
tanks and a complicated maze of pipework. There were massive lift cable wheels and access doors, back-up generators, lightning conductors and the other nameless machines that kept the tallest residential building in Hong Kong running smoothly. There had been a lot of time to reflect on the events of the previous days. After being dropped at the sampan rank by the frightened young man who had pulled me from the harbour, I had made my way quickly down the promenade and as far away from the Royal Yacht Club as possible. Freezing cold, wet and exhausted I eventually hailed a taxi as the sun began to rise over the city. The driver had initially been reluctant to allow me into the cab and I couldn't blame him either as I was looking decidedly the worse for wear at the time. Eventually I made it back to the hotel and instructed the driver to wait while I went to my room, changed my clothes and checked out. After a quick stop at a cash machine I instructed the driver to take a long drive through the city. I had spent the time craning my neck and watching behind the vehicle to make sure there was no one following us. There was a good chance that Charles Tang would believe I was dead, but I needed to be sure. After twenty minutes I told the driver to drop me at The Langley Hotel near Cherry Street Park. Having changed and smartened up my appearance I managed to check in under a false name without a problem. The throbbing in my head had worsened and after a quick shower I had flopped on to my bed on the 23rd floor and passed out.
I awoke with what felt like a massive hangover at 3.00 pm that afternoon. After ordering room service I sat at the window and stripped the Norinco pistol I had taken from Liko. The cheap Chinese copy of the Russian Tokarev weapon was easy to clean and there were still twelve rounds in the magazine. I spent the next two days holed up in my hotel room recovering and studying the layout and history of the Highcliffe building. It came as no surprise that Charles Tang had been absent from social media for that period but eventually, he surfaced with a tweet announcing that after a 'minor setback' he had returned to Hong Kong. The tweet was accompanied by the hashtag '#backtowork'. During those two days I had also done some research into the better- known residents of the Highcliffe building. Of particular interest to me was the widowed wife of millionaire Greek shipping magnate Aspostolis Stouyannides.
Still active in her late seventies, Elizabeth Stouyannides was a high profile, art collector with a well-publicised history of big spending at the local Hong Kong branches of Christie's and Sotheby's. Being somewhat old fashioned, her telephone number was still listed in the local directory. Posing as a junior manager at Christie's I had called to inform her that I would be hand-delivering a new sales catalogue some time later that week. I politely told her that I looked forward to meeting her and that I would call again prior to my visit. The well-spoken old lady thanked me and said she would wait for my call. With my access to the skyscraper now in the bag I ventured out to purchase some new clothes, a briefcase and to have a few fake business cards printed. The dark pin stripe suit had cost the equivalent of £600.00, but I saw it as a worthy investment - it certainly looked the part. The local print shop had no qualms about copying the Christie's logo and it took only ten minutes to print and cut 100 high quality cards. After that it had simply been a waiting game to see where and when Charles Tang turned up. I had used the time in the hotel gym and the indoor swimming pool while constantly checking his social media for the long-awaited updates. His tweet was accompanied by a picture taken that morning from the balcony of his residence in the Highcliffe building. I was fully aware that given the incident on the yacht, Charles Tang would more than likely have beefed up his personal security. It was a risk I was prepared to take and the twelve bullets in the magazine of the pistol were acceptable security to me. I had called Elizabeth Stouyannides immediately after seeing the post and told her I would be visiting at around 4.00 pm that day to deliver the new brochure. She was most gracious in her response and said she hoped I would stay for tea as well. I asked her to please call security at the reception of the building and inform them that I would be visiting her at around 4.00 pm. She said she would do so immediately.
Wearing the new suit with the business cards in my top pocket I left the Langley Hotel at 3.00 pm that afternoon. In the briefcase were my lock picking set, the gun and two bottles of water. I told the cab driver to head to the suburb of Happy Valley and twenty minutes later the car crested the hill that marked the boundary of the wealthy suburb and I saw the colossal towering structure of the Highcliffe building in the valley below. After paying the taxi I strode confidently into the massive marbled reception area of the building and announced my arrival and my appointment with Mrs Stouyannides. The young, uniformed guard inspected the business card I presented to him, checked his computer screen and nodded in acknowledgement.
“Do you know the apartment sir?” he asked politely.
“Yes I do. No need to call her” I said as I walked towards the lifts. “I just spoke to her. Thank you.”
The plush lift sped up to the 50th floor where I knew Mrs Stouyannides had her apartment. I stepped into the wide corridor of the elliptical shaped building and immediately turned right to where I knew from my research the fire escape stairwell to be.
I was sweating profusely by the time I had climbed to the 72nd floor of the building but I couldn't help taking a quick look round the door of the emergency stairwell. The space was identical to the 50th floor and it appeared all quiet. I was acutely aware that there would be no guarantee that Charles Tang would actually be in his flat and his social media posts simply be a ruse or a trap, but that was a risk I was prepared to take. I made a quick call to inform Mrs Stouyannides that I had run into some delays and to offer my sincere apologies that I would need to re-schedule my visit. She accepted my apology graciously. It came as a surprise to find the giant service space on the last two top floors of the building was unlocked. Being late in the day I was not expecting any workmen, but I had chosen the dark, cramped crawl space between the cooling towers as a final precaution. After so many hours the constant hum and clatter of machinery and circuit boards was no longer bothering me but rather the aching in my joints and the discomfort of being cramped up sitting on the bare concrete floor. I checked my phone every half hour on the dot for any updates from Charles Tang, but it appeared he had gone quiet.
The seeds of doubt slowly began to creep into my mind and as I waited, I began to wonder if I had indeed set myself up for an elaborate trap. But then how does he know you are even alive Green? Sure, he is a powerful man in Hong Kong but could he have traced you to the Holiday Inn? And if so, what then? These fears, doubts and self-reassurances spun through my mind as the hours passed until finally at 2.30am I stood up and stretched my aching bones. Time to go. Get it done this time! Placing the gun in my belt and the lock pick set in my pocket I walked to the doors of the service area. The stairwell above and below was deathly quiet as I closed the doors behind me and walked downstairs. I left my jacket and the briefcase behind the emergency exit door and stepped through.
The foyer area of the 72nd floor was as I had seen it earlier that day. There was not a soul in sight and the only sound was that of my breathing. From my research of the layout of the building I knew exactly where the entrance to the apartment was. I walked silently to the grand double doors and tried the handles. As I had expected, they were locked. With a final look round, I pulled the lock pick set from my pocket and knelt down to set to work. Within two minutes I had opened the door and I stepped into the dim lights of the foyer of Charles Tang's penthouse apartment. I pulled the gun from my belt and crept in silently closing the door behind me. Although the lighting was dimmed, I could clearly see the layout of the room and the wide windows with the lights of the city below. The furnishings were in keeping with the prestigious address and similar to those aboard The Dragon of The Seas. I knew from my research that the apartment had four bedrooms that were situated down a corridor to the right. With the gun raised I walked slowly through the lounge and dining area towards the darkened corridor ahead. It was as I stepped of
f the tiled floor and on to the carpeting of the corridor that I heard the television. What sounded to me like a vintage Chinese musical was playing in the furthest room on the left. The Mikado? The door had been left slightly ajar and I could see the changing purple tinge of the screen within the room. Get this over and done with quickly Green! Every sense was heightened as I crept down the passage slowly towards the door. I reached the door and looked inside to see a giant circular bed at the far side of the room to the right.
Bunched up in the centre of the bed was what looked like a sleeping body. The television, which was out of sight to the left-hand side of the room, continued to blare the high-pitched racket of the movie while the figure under the sheets on the bed lay motionless. Suddenly I felt a cold sliding sensation in my stomach. This is too easy Green. With the gun pointed at the sleeping figure I slowly pushed the door and took a look around. To the right of the room was a large ornate marble desk complete with ivory carvings, a heavy glass paper weight and a large silver ornamental dagger with an eight-inch filigree blade. To the centre of the table were a series of lines of white powder with a rolled-up bank note nearby. Cocaine? It seemed to me that Mr Tang might have developed some bad habits. The ceiling of the room was completely covered with mirrors which reflected a confusing array of images from the television screen along with the reflections of the lights of the en-suite bathroom to the right. I glanced at the ceiling again to see there was also the reflection of another set of screens. Feeling puzzled I craned my neck to take a look at the left-hand side of the room. In the corner, on the far side, was yet another flat screen television but this was not for watching movies. The screen was divided into eight sections. Each section showed a live feed of a different room of the apartment. Charles Tang had installed an elaborate closed-circuit security system. I glanced back at the sleeping figure on the bed. Who cares Green? Kill the fucker and get out! The screeching high pitched singing grated at my nerves as I stepped on to the thick white shag carpeting of the room. The sleeping figure lay under the sheets facing the wide widows at the far side of the room. I needed to be certain that it was actually Charles Tang I was about to kill. With the gun still trained on the bed, I stepped forward until I was level with the foot of it. It was at that moment that I heard the click of the revolver and the manic giggling behind me that reminded me of a skulking hyena.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 71
