by Jay Tinsiano
"Frank? How are you? Back already?"
"Not quite. I need your help with something."
"Sure, no problem."
"I need you to find out some information for me, on some names. I can't explain everything right now, but I'm in a spot of bother. Life or death situation, mate."
"Oh right? I'm sorry to hear that. I'll try to help you as much as I can, Frank. Is there anything you can tell me?"
Frank paused on the line, the cogs in his brain turning.
"The fact is, I'm finding it hard to trust anyone, possibly even you, so I can't really say too much. It's connected to that Hong Kong thing. I was set up."
"Frank, what the hell's going on? Did you say Hong Kong? I read something about a couple of bombs but it wasn't widely reported here. There's a war in the Gulf that has everyone's attention."
"Yeah. Look, can you help me or not? If I give you some names, can you look into them?"
Carl paused and flicked his pen around in his fingers.
"Of course I'll do what I can Frank. I don't want to get into trouble though."
"No, it's just getting background information on some names. They set me up, said it was a drill. Richard Desmond – also called himself Richard Stokes – based in Bangkok. There was another man, Dean Whiteman who said he worked for the Legislative Council of Hong Kong. If there's anything you can find out about them that would be appreciated, Carl. I don't know if these are real names though. I'll ring back sometime tomorrow if I can."
"Sure, but Frank, that's not a lot to go on...”
The line went dead.
Carl replaced the handset and thought for a moment, frowning heavily.
Chapter 23
Chiu Wah On – or agent Tian, as was his codename – stamped on the cigarette butt and ground it into the concrete with his heel. The message had come through at his safe house to go deliver on his orders—the moment he had been patiently waiting for. He strolled briskly across the road and pushed back the beads that hung in the doorway.
The young Li looked up from his newspaper at the smart gentlemen entering the store. He presumed he was a white collar worker. His second thought was this man was no ordinary office worker, judging by the long scar that arced prominently on his face.
Chiu smiled warmly at the young man as he cast his eyes around at the stacked wares for sale. A sudden movement caught Li unaware and the man grabbed the back of his head and smacked it down onto the counter in one swift action. He felt the cool butt of a gun pressed against his temple. Chiu pressed hard against the back of his head, keeping Li in place.
"Listen very carefully. You raise any alarm, shout or struggle, you are a dead man. You do exactly as I tell you and you will live … understand?" Chiu whispered menacingly into his ear.
"Yes understood," Li mumbled. His face was pushed so hard against the wood he could hardly speak. Chiu pulled his head back up.
"Now shut the shop."
Li did as he was ordered and flipped the sign over to display 'closed.' His mind raced; so many questions. But for now he decided just to co-operate.
They moved behind the counter, out of sight from the street and into the back room, the man signalling for Li to sit at the table.
"Your Western friend, where is he?"
Li hesitated, scared, but he knew straight away who this man was referring to—his recent visitor from Peter Chapman, his father's friend.
"Western friend? I know quite a few expats."
Chiu took out a photograph from his inside jacket pocket and held it up in front of Li's face.
"No, I don't recognise him."
"Do not lie to me, my friend, otherwise I promise you will not see out the next minute." The scar faced man levelled his gun towards Li's face. His eyes seemed to darken, like dead coals.
Li's glanced at the gun; his heart beat seemed to speed up in his chest. He believed what this man was saying, yet his instinct was telling him to keep as much information from him as possible, especially the connection with Peter Chapman. On the other hand, he didn't want to die.
Li closed his eyes. "He came here, into the shop. That is correct."
He felt the gun barrel slowly press against his forehead. Li dared not open his eyes, as though looking at death would somehow encourage it.
"He came in for a fake passport." Li spoke slowly, wishing he were not speaking the words that came from his mouth. "He picked it up this morning."
"Show me," the calm voice replied.
*******
Theo Kampala picked up his latest message, translated the encryption and then burned the piece of paper. He quickly packed a small bag, placed the encryption machine in a case and left his small room, glad to be on the move, and stepped onto the busy Bangkok street. He hailed a taxi and headed to the train station, watching the blur of traffic swirl around him.
The train station was the usual scene of chaos and he shuffled his way up the line to buy his ticket south. Theo figured Frank Bowen, hunted like a dog, might end up at a familiar hideaway. The same place Richard Desmond had sent him on his gem run.
Chapter 24
Detective Inspector Douglas Brown flashed his badge at the policeman who stood guard outside the front of the shop and made his way through to the counter and then down the steps to the basement. A forensic team of two, dressed in white overalls and masks, were just finishing up their procedure of sweeping for prints and blood samples. Li's body was at the centre of the room, sat upright and slumped against a pile of boxes, his head hanging forward. He had been shot in the head from the front. A claret red splash cast a stark pattern against the cardboard box behind him. His hands were bound behind his back with cord and his feet were also tied.
Brown nodded grimly at the police sergeant at the scene and cast his eyes over the body. 'What have we got?'
"Victim is named Li Wu. Multiple cigarette burns, especially around his face. Finger nails extracted. Looks like he's been tortured for information. Cause of death is most likely the bullet to the head."
"You don't say?"
The sergeant ignored his quip and stood staring straight ahead.
"Not a robbery then?"
"It doesn't look like it at his stage, Sir. Nothing was taken as far as we can see. An eye witness says he saw a Chinese businessman enter the shop sometime around noon. Another local woman said she came around 12.30 and the closed sign was up."
Brown thought for a moment. "Take down their statements and then send them to me together with the forensic report when it's ready. What about the victim's family?"
"His mother's in the kitchen with an officer. She was out at the time and came back to find him like this. We are in the process of locating the rest of the family."
"I'll talk to her before I leave. Anything else?"
"Yes, crucially there's evidence the victim was involved in passport forgery. A few stamp blocks, lactate film, a variety of blank passports and all the tools. I've gathered them up for evidence."
Brown scanned the gloomy basement one more time. "Thanks, Sergeant." He climbed the steps to the rooms above and spoke briefly with the sobbing mother who had found her son's body, trying to give her some comfort. As he left, Brown asked the officer with her to ensure a statement was sent to him as soon as possible and then returned to his car.
Chapter 25
Distant lights flickered from across the water in Kowloon and, apart from the familiar chorus of crickets and occasional noises escaping from the harbour miles away, the neighbourhood stood in near silence. Chui crouched low and still, his eyes and ears straining with alertness from behind the large palm leaves, where he waited at the bottom of the garden. His main focus was on the tall windows of the living room. He caught a brief glimpse of a shadow move momentarily across the ceiling before disappearing again.
Maria set down a glass of red wine in front of Frank and slumped down next to him on the living room sofa.
"Thanks," said Frank, sipping the wine slowly. "So do you own t
his place?"
"My Dad does. I just live here and keep it warm." She patted the sofa arm.
"That's great," Frank almost whispered as he lost himself in the distant city lights.
"I know, I know. I'm such a lucky girl."
"There's nothing wrong with luck," he said. He could sure do with some himself, he thought.
"What's with the horse?" Frank gestured towards a finely sculptured piece, expertly crafted from dark wood that stood defiantly, as if standing its ground.
"In Chinese culture, horses symbolise success, courage and loyalty among other things. That particular horse is older than Christ."
"Wow. It must be valuable."
"It is," she smiled, knowingly.
"My kingdom for a horse," he said, drily. Maria wrinkled her nose and laughed. Frank smiled at her and studied her face. The perfect lines of her eyebrows, shaped to perfection, and the delicate tilt of her lips seemed to comfort him, as if everything was normal and fine, just for that moment. Her green eyes seemed to shine and intensify at his gaze, before glancing away, self-consciously.
"I'm sorry about all this, Maria. Barging in on you and everything. I really wished – hoped – the circumstances would be so different."
She took his hand in hers. "Hey, don't worry. It's lovely to see you, Frank. Despite the ... crazy circumstances."
Frank pulled her towards him, kissing her gently on the lips. They became lost in each other and for a second Frank had forgotten all his troubles.
He leaned back and gave a satisfied sigh.
"How about some snacks before bed, hmm?" she asked.
"That sounds good."
Maria walked across the room towards the kitchen and then stopped and froze as she glanced towards the hallway door.
Frank looked up at her, "What is it?" He turned towards the direction of her surprised stare to see a Chinese man in a navy boiler suit, half obscured by darkness, pointing a pistol at her. Frank made to get up and the intruder swung round, aiming the weapon at him, which made him stop dead. The man smiled benignly.
"Frank Bowen?" he asked.
"Who the hell are you?" Maria asked. Carefully, the man moved further into the room revealing a cold, hard face; his smooth skin severed by a moon shaped scar. Maria held her hands up, her face fixed in an expression of fear as she ever so slowly inched forward toward him. "Please don't hurt us, please…" she continued.
The intruder levelled his gun at her, "Stay still."
"What do you want?" Frank asked. He was slowly standing up from the sofa. The Chinese man turned the gun on him, taking his attention away from Maria. "Stay where you are," he rasped.
Whatever he had come for, he seemed to be hesitating.
Maria acted instinctively, without thought of consequence, grabbing the vase resting on the table that she had slowly edged towards. In one swift action, scooping up the ceramic piece, she threw it at the man's head with all her strength. His left shoulder jerked upwards but he failed to protect himself as its full force smashed into the side of his skull. The intruder slumped back towards the wall, off balance, and Frank, seeing he was raising his gun, leapt at him to grab his arm before jerking it upwards, smashing his hand against the wall.
The gun fell onto the sofa and Frank followed up with a quick punch to the intruder's stomach as hard as he could, bringing his full body weight in behind the blow. The man's stomach was hard, well protected by muscle, but the force of Frank's punch still made him keel over and groan out loud.
Despite his obvious nausea and disorientation the Chinese hurled himself at Frank, keeping his head low as he butted his chest. The momentum threw Frank backwards onto the coffee table, crashing the wine bottle and glasses onto the floor. Suddenly there was a hand on Frank's throat, gripping tighter around his larynx so he could not breathe properly. Before he lost control of the situation Frank fiercely jerked his knee into the intruder's groin. The grip loosened and now it was his turn to gasp for air.
Maria quickly moved over to the sofa and grabbed the weapon. She went around behind the Chinese, whacking him hard across the back of the skull with the pistol butt, grunting with the effort. His head slumped onto Frank's chest like a rag doll as the fight in him suddenly receded and then she quickly changed the gun around in her hands and pointed it straight at the back of the intruders head. Frank slowly hauled the body off the top of him and climbed to his feet. Maria's whole arms were shaking.
"Great work, Maria. It's ok, it's ok," he said, almost whispering.
Maria nodded and handed Frank the pistol.
"Keep an eye on him; we'd better tie him up. I'll go get some rope," she said, finding her composure again.
As Maria left the room, Frank held the weapon in his hand, staring at it. He looked at the Chinese man slumped on the floor and wondered at Maria's calm, but powerful, response to the situation, glad of it, nevertheless.
"Don’t you think we should question him?" asked Frank when she returned.
"No. I think we should get out of here," she said.
"Yes, you go to your father. Just..."
"No Frank. I'm coming with you."
Frank shook his head as he wrapped rope around the unconscious intruder. They needed to get out of the house first and then he would argue with her.
Chapter 26
Frank and Maria slowly shuffled forward in separate queues towards the customs checkpoint at Kuala Lumpur airport. Frank had his hair greased back and with his maturing dark stubble, his appearance had changed. He clutched the passport he had managed to get from the young man, Li Wu, in Hong Kong. A smart young Malay customs officer, sitting in a box, gestured him forward and checked his passport. He glanced at Frank and back again at the photograph, then swiftly stamped the page and handed it back, nodding without a word.
Frank waited briefly for Maria to come through and they headed to the luggage collection point together, giving each other a reassuring look. Maria had packed hastily after they had tied up the intruder, they cleaned the gun of fingerprints and dumped it in the trash in downtown Hong Kong. At the airport, Maria anonymously phoned the police about the Chinese man tied up in her house.
It's not that they were running away, just buying time, as Frank had put it. He had questions he wanted answering, first in Krabi to see if Mr Ron or that Greg character were around and then to Bangkok to see if he could get the money he had stashed. It was a pretty loose, spontaneous and probably insane plan, but neither of them could think of a better option.
Maria insisted on tagging along and had vehemently dismissed going to her father for help, out of hand. Frank hadn't lied to her father when he said he didn't want her involved but Maria wouldn't say goodbye.
They made their way to the exit area of the impressively modern airport and caught a connection bus to the railway station, a colonial-era landmark in the heart of Kuala Lumpur. The ticket office under the high canopy roofs, sold them their tickets for overnight sleeper to Hat Yai in Thailand, then they grabbed some refreshments and sat in an air-conditioned waiting hall, sipping their ice teas.
"I just have to go to the bathroom," said Maria, picking up her cotton shoulder bag.
"Sure," Frank nodded.
Frank returned to the thoughts that had been churning around in his mind on the flight from Hong Kong as he watched Maria walk away. He had been wondering about her lightning fast reactions to the intruder and the ease with which they had overcome this, apparently, well trained assassin. Maybe she had surreptitiously left him her Hong Kong number as if it were a backup plan to reel him in, if something went wrong, as it had.
Frank glanced around the waiting hall and then strained to see Maria disappearing through the crowd. At the same time, he couldn't really believe that she was involved. She had been nothing but a saviour and had, after all, attacked the intruder. But how had he found them? He knew the location of Maria's house. It didn't make sense.
Frank leaned towards a businessman reading a paper nearby.
; "Excuse me, could you just keep an eye on this for one minute?" Frank asked, pointing to Maria's suitcase. The man nodded. Frank took his money bag and left the waiting hall, looking around for Maria.
A train had just come in and streams of people hustled their way towards the exits. Frank moved forward through the crowd and glanced around the platform area. Across towards the exit, he spotted a reflection of Maria in the glass of a café, making a call from one of the phone booths.
Chapter 27
Chiu Wah On felt an intense throbbing pain in his head, his whole body felt constrained as if wrapped in a coil and, before even opening his eyes, he knew he was tied up, wrapped in rope. The room was dark, except for the distant lights of the city that cast long shadows across the floor. Chiu tried to move his hands and loosen the rope slightly but it was tightly done. Fragments of broken glass lay scattered around him and he manoeuvred his body so he was sitting upright against the wall.
He breathed in and out, allowing his chest to expand and shrink and then shuffled and shook, slowly loosening the grip of the coiled rope around his torso. With a sliver of more flexibility, he was able to move his body around and get a broken fragment of glass into his hand. Slowly and deliberately, Chiu worked his fingers, sawing at the rope that bound him.
An hour later, the intruder was flexing his arm, repetitively opening and closing his fingers to get rid of the numbness. He looked at his watch; two hours had passed. He searched the room for his gun and, on not finding it, proceeded to search the house for anything else that might give a clue as to where they were headed. Finding nothing, he left the way he had come in and retrieved a small backpack that he'd previously hidden at the bottom of the garden. It was several hundred metres to his car where he retrieved the keys from his pack before driving to the nearest public phone booth.
Chiu spoke in rapid Mandarin to the voice at the other end and recited the passport details that he had forced out of the young Chinese at the shop. Then he hung up and headed to the airport. There was other work to do.
Six hours later, Chiu had checked into a hotel under an assumed identity in Bangkok.
*******
After three days of hiding himself in the hotel, Chiu switched off the television and wiped down all the surfaces that he may have touched during his stay there. It was highly unlikely it would be a problem, but he liked to take precautions. He attached a residential services badge to his white shirt and picked up his red canvas bag that had been in the bottom of the wardrobe.
