“Su Li,” a voice called out from the darkness. “I never see you anymore.” A young man, probably about Su Li’s age, stepped out into the light of the street lamp. He was tall and bulked out. His hair was black and greased back. He was smiling, but he did not look pleased to see her. “They told me you were here.” He didn’t elaborate on who they were. “Think you are too good for us now? Living out there in that big fancy house.”

  “Joey,” Su Li stepped towards him, stepping in front of Nancy. “I am sorry. I have been busy.”

  “Think you have moved on, left this place behind.”

  “Joey, it is a job. A good job. I have to take care of my parents.”

  “Well, you are not the only one to have moved up. I am an important man now. I am working for Wai Fat.”

  Su Li strained to smile. “You should be careful.”

  “I can take care of myself.” The man stepped towards her and seemed to notice Nancy for the first time. “Who is your friend? A pretty girl.” He moved in closer. He had a cruel smile on his face. “The people I work for like pretty girls.” He grabbed Nancy’s arm and pulled her towards him. “Oh yes, Wai Fat will pay me well for one as sweet as this.”

  “Joey, please, this is my friend. We have to go.”

  Joey turned and struck her hard in the face with his fist. Su Li didn’t even cry out as she collapsed to the floor.

  Nancy tried to pull herself free, but the man held on to her.

  “Feisty one, they will like that.”

  Nancy was a doctor and had taken a vow.

  First, do no harm.

  But her father was an ex-policeman. He had taught her and Tommy how to defend themselves. She swung around and head butted the man with the hard rim of the motorcycle helmet she wore. Joey staggered backward, blood pouring from his nose. Nancy also knew her anatomy. She took a step towards him and booted him hard between his legs. Joey’s eyes popped wide in his head, his mouth agape as he struggled to breathe.

  Nancy dropped down to Su Li. Her fingers went to the pulse in her neck. It beat strong and regular. She shook her and tapped her gently on her cheek. Su Li groaned and stirred.

  “Su Li, look at me.”

  Su Li opened her eyes.

  “Focus on my finger and take a deep breath.”

  She did as Nancy asked and put her hand to her eye. It was already beginning to puff up, and the skin was red and darkening.

  “Come on, we need to leave.” Nancy glanced towards Joey, but he was paying her no attention. She pulled Su Li to her feet. Su Li swayed and held on to her. Nancy helped her onto the motor scooter and climbed on in front of her. She started the engine, then looked back at Joey. He was on his knees, head bowed, hands clutching his crushed pride, as if he was praying to God.

  She twisted the accelerator, and the scooter darted forward. Nancy hung on to the handlebars, with Su Li clinging on behind her, and wound her way out towards the road. It was a long time since she had ridden a motorcycle.

  “You have to tell me the way,” she called over her shoulder as she slipped into the traffic.

  “Follow this road,” Su Li croaked in her ear.

  62

  Mongkok, Kowloon, Hong Kong.

  The taxi cab turned off Shanghai Street and dropped him in front of the building, a concrete monstrosity. A faded blue neon sign announced Chongyong Mansions in English and Chinese. The letters flashed on and off intermittently. Even in darkness, the place looked depressing.

  Lau had told him about the place. The grandly named building would have been condemned in ninety percent of the world’s cities. It was a 1960s concrete block monstrosity on Kowloon’s former main thoroughfare, Shanghai Street. That was before the neon strewn Nathan Road had taken over. Built like many others, to house the fast growing Hong Kong population, it had quickly become populated by black market traders and dope dealers.

  Fagan climbed the concrete steps, stepping over the garbage bags crowding the entrance, and walked inside. Fried rice and ripe human bodies assaulted his nostrils. The lower floor was a string of cheap Chinese bazaars and noodle shops. It was bustling with people, eating at the food stalls that lined the walls, crowding around the vendors selling knockoff Louis Vuitton handbags, Rolex watches, or cheap lucky charm trash. Others were tucked away in the corners, more discrete, selling a way out of all this.

  The elevator was out of action, its doors were open, and half a dozen people appeared to have moved in permanently. Fagan took the stairs. The sickly sweet odor hit him as he turned the first corner. Nothing pure, probably a mixture of opium, weed, and crack cocaine. A single dim light illuminated people huddled against the walls and tucked into the corners. As he reached the first landing, the light was better. A young man and a girl, probably about the same age, were stretched out on the floor. The boy had a slack smile on his face. The girl seemed to be staring into oblivion. A single hypodermic needle lay on the floor between them.

  Fagan moved quickly on. The human traffic thinned as he ascended. The address Lau had given him said the apartment was on the tenth floor. He made it with his heartbeat barely raised. Someone peeked out from a partially open door as he moved onto the landing. The door closed abruptly as he approached. The apartment he was looking for was 1020. Someone had scribbled it in black marker pen on the wall.

  He listened at the door. There was no sound inside. He knocked and listened. Still nothing. He knocked again, this time harder and for longer. A voice called out from within, in a language Fagan took to be Cantonese.

  Fagan spoke no Cantonese, not a single word, so he called out the only word he thought might get through.

  “Police,” he shouted, continuing banging on the door.

  More yelling erupted from inside, more doors along the passage cracked open, furtive faces peered out. Fagan banged again. He heard a voice muttering inside, then the door opened, and snagged on a check chain. The wizened face of an old Chinese lady looked out. Fagan held up his phone with a picture of Nancy displayed. “I’m looking for this woman?”

  The woman squinted at the phone and yelled something at him.

  “Do you speak English?”

  “I do.”

  Fagan looked round. At first, he saw no one in the dimly lit passageway. Then he looked down. A young girl with neat pigtails, tied with pink bows, stood looking up at him.

  “Hello.” Fagan tried to sound as non-threatening as possible. “What’s your name?”

  “Jing,” the girl said.

  “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  “I wait for Su Li to come back.”

  “You speak good English.”

  The little girl grinned. “Su Li, teach me.”

  “When is Su Li coming back?”

  “Soon, I hope.”

  The apartment door rattled open, and the old lady stepped out, pulling the young girl behind her and yelling up at Fagan in what he took to be a string of Chinese curses.

  “Tell her, I want to ask her a few questions. I am looking for this woman.” He held up his phone again.

  Jing spoke to the old lady in her native tongue, and the lady spoke back. The young girl peeked out from behind her.

  “She says, you not policeman.”

  “No, I’m not, but this lady,” he said, pointing at his phone, “is a friend of mine, and I think she might be in danger.”

  The girl looked up at him as if she was trying to work out if he was telling the truth, then looked at the image on the phone. “I see her. She here with Su Li. They leave together.”

  “When did they leave?”

  “Maybe thirty minute.”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “They running away.”

  “Why were they running away?”

  “Joey Lam. He was there when they leave.”

  “Who is Joey Lam?”

  “He and Su Li were sweethearts, once. Now he scumbag.”

  Fagan had to smile at that. “You know you shouldn’t use words like that.”

  “It what Su Li tell me.”

  “That you shouldn’t use words like that?”

  “No, that Joey Lam, scumbag.”

  “Who is he, where does he live?”

  “He live in Tsim Sha Tsui. He work for Wai Fat.”

  “Who is Wai Fat?”

  “He very bad man. Su Li tell me never to let him see me, and never to speak his name. He is Mogwai.”

  “Mogwai?”

  Jing wrinkled her brow as she searched for the word. “He is devil.”

  Fagan nodded. “You should listen to Su Li. So tell me what happened when Su Li and Nancy tried to leave?”

  “Joey Lam hit her.”

  “Who? Who did he hit?”

  “Su Li. But the other lady, Miss Nancy, she kick him very hard, down there.” She indicated somewhere below her waist. “Joey Lam, no like.” She gave him an angelic smile.

  It sounded like the Nancy he knew.

  “Su Li and Nancy drive away on Su Li’s motor scooter.”

  “Do you know where they were going?”

  Jing looked up at him as if she was deciding whether to trust him. “Su Li say, she taking Miss Nancy to Tsing Yi Island.”

  Tsing Yi Island. There was only one thing he knew out there — the seaplane dock.

  “What did Joey Lam do when Su Li and Nancy drove away?”

  “I think maybe he pray on his knees to the God of the Nine Dragons.”

  Fagan smiled at the thought, then said goodbye to Jing, and told her to go home and lock the door. He watched her until she disappeared into a room at the end of the passage, then descended the stairs. The junkies and squatters were still there, but they didn’t seem interested.

  The ones who were, were waiting for him when he reached the bottom.

  There were three of them blocking the way into the area with the noodle shops and junk traders, each holding a large bladed watermelon chopper, like the one he had seen back at the warehouse in Shanghai. Whether they saw him as a tourist who had wandered away from the bright lights, or they knew who they were looking for, he figured that what happened next would be about the same.

  They didn’t attack but stood there menacing, their blades hanging casually from their hands. They obviously wanted him to back up and head out through the rear, where no doubt more machetes were waiting.

  He had the SIG tucked into the back of his pants. His hand brushed it, but he left it there. They were less than six feet away. He could probably take out two of them, if he was lucky, but the third. And anyway, if he started shooting in here, innocents were bound to get hurt. Still, that could work for him.

  He pulled out the pistol. The suppressor was not attached. He fired four rapid rounds, pointed at the men’s feet, and away from the crowd. The bullets screamed off the concrete floor, the bang-bang of the shots reverberating loud off the ceiling. The men ducked back, and people began shouting. He fired two more rounds into the floor, and the riot began in earnest. People screamed and rushed for the exit. Fagan darted towards the retreating crowd. One man came at him from the left, shrieking, with the blade held above his head. Fagan shot him in the head. Which only served to stir up the crowd even more.

  Fagan pushed his way into the mass of people scrambling for the door, overturning hawker stalls, makeshift food counters, and people as they went. He glimpsed one of the men trying to cut him off, before the man disappeared into the surging melee. He looked around but could see no sign of the other one.

  The exit was four doors, folded and pushed to one side, but it still narrowed the funnel of people and slowed the rush, backing them up behind it. And that was where the third one was waiting. Fagan saw him pushed up against the wall. He couldn’t risk a shot, not in the midst of all these people. He needed to be up close.

  A large man, who looked to be of Indian origin, barged past him, shoving people aside as he headed for the door. Fagan ducked under the human tide and pushed in behind him. He reached the entrance and darted to the side, keeping his head down and pushing hard through the crowd. He estimated the man’s position, figured he was no more than a few paces away. Then, for a moment, the crowd thinned a little, and he caught a glance of the blade, swinging casually in the man’s hand. Fagan moved towards him, thrusting hard like a football player barging through the defense. He brought up the SIG in a smooth movement, jamming it under the man’s chin, and pulled the trigger.

  The shot sounded like thunder in the confined space. The man’s blood and brains splattered against the wall. The raging crowd surged again, carrying him out onto the street. He didn’t have time to look for the third assailant.

  A scream tore at the night. The third man appeared out of the crowd running towards him, the chopper swinging from his arm, raised above his head. Fagan lifted the SIG. The man was still ten feet away. He knew the bullet would go straight through him, and then God only knew where beyond that.

  He stood his ground and let the man come. The blade swept past, almost brushing his face as he swayed, then stepped out of the way. He pivoted and stamped hard on the side of the man’s left knee, feeling the joint explode as he followed through. The man screamed and collapsed to the floor, dropping his weapon as he did. Fagan stood over him and pointed the SIG at his head. The man was screaming too much to even notice him. Fagan shook his head and stuffed the gun in his pants, then turned and ran.

  63

  Kowloon, Hong Kong.

  Nancy headed north, following Su Li’s instruction, winding her way through Mongkok and Sham Shui Po, turning often but always moving steadily north. Her eyes constantly darting to the mirror, looking for any sign of Joey, or anyone else for that matter, who might be following them.

  But what did that look like?

  She turned onto a wider road with a barrier down the center, and headed west. Her only option. As she followed the road around a sweeping bend, the engine faltered. She opened up the throttle. The engine missed, then picked up again. Nancy glanced in her mirror. Nothing had changed, but there was still a constant stream of traffic behind her. The engine suddenly died. She yanked on the throttle, but nothing happened, and the motor scooter rolled to a stop.

  “What happened?” Su Li suddenly woke up behind her.

  “The engine cut out.” Nancy kicked down the stand on the scooter and stepped off.

  “It is always doing that,” Su Li said. “Shit petrol.”

  “What?”

  “My friend Teddy, get it for me for free. But it industrial stuff. It clog up inside engine.”

  Nancy smiled at her description. “And what do you do when it happens?”

  Su Li gave a tired shrug.

  “Teddy clean it out for me.”

  Su Li looked behind them. “We need to get off this road. Joey will be looking for us. He will have people looking for us.”

  Nancy peered back down the busy highway, expecting Joey to pull up behind them at any moment. She looked around and spotted a gas station a short way further up the road.

  “Come on, help me get it in there,” she said, pointing towards it.

  Su Li stepped off the scooter and staggered slightly before steadying herself with a hand on the scooter’s seat.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I am fine.” Su Li stood up and swayed slightly.

  Nancy was worried about her. She had taken a nasty blow to the head and had been unconscious for a short while. Nancy knew the dangers of head injuries and how time critical treatment was.

  “Come on, take hold, and push.”

  Between them, they pushed the scooter up the road. Nancy steered it into the gas station and guided it into a parking area beside a small cafe with a large pink neon sign above the door.

  Su Li let go of the scooter and swayed again as she stood up. “Shit, shit, shit.” She slammed her hand on the scooter seat. “We cannot go back. I cannot call Teddy. Joey will find us. I know it.” She looked into Nancy’s eyes. “You should run. Get far from here, far from me.”

  “No, we are doing this together. We’ll fix it.” Nancy patted the motor scooter.

  “How?”

  “I’ll fix it. But first, let’s get you inside. You might have a concussion, and if you have, I need to get you to a hospital.”

  “No, no hospital.”

  Nancy helped her through the front door and led them to a table in the corner. She got Su Li seated, then walked up to the counter. A youth with a string of rings in his nose and blue streaks in his hair seemed to perk up as she approached. Nancy bought a bottle of water for Su Li and black coffee for herself. The caffeine would be good for her.

  Su Li was seated at the table, her eyes closed. Nancy put the coffee cup and the bottle on the table and dug into her backpack. She found what she was looking for, a small penlight.

  “Open your eyes.”

  “What?” Su Li said, but she opened her eyes, anyway.

  Nancy leaned forward and shone the light into her left eye.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m checking for concussion.”

  “What are you, a nurse?”

  “I’m a doctor.”

  Su Li seemed to come wide awake.

  “A doctor? What is a doctor doing at Mistress Wu’s house? Given that you are not her doctor.”

  “It’s a long story. But for now, relax and let me finish my examination.”

  Su Li’s pupil reactions seemed normal, and so were the rest of her tests.

  “Do you remember what happened?” She was part testing Su Li’s memory reflex and part trying to find out just what happened.

  “Joey Lam, scumbag.” She shrugged. “Ex-boyfriend. Story of my life when it come to men.”

  She pulled a cigarette pack out of her bag and lit one. She offered the pack to Nancy. Nancy declined.

  “Those are bad for you.”

  “So is living in Hong Kong if you have no money.” Su Li forced a smile and puffed on her cigarette.

  “Joey Lam said he worked for someone called Wai Fat. Who is he?”

  “Another shit bag. He work for the Snakehead.”

  “Is that a Triad gang?”

  “In many ways they worse. You need stay far away from them. Snakehead are in people business. Big business.”

 

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