Death Trip (7 page)

Magda had gone to bed ages before and Alfie was still waiting for Katrien to sign on to her messenger account. He was getting stir crazy staring at the screen. The camera wasn’t a tracker. He only got to see her when she was sitting at the monitor; he was hoping that would be enough. He had sound, he had visual; now all he needed was for her to log on.

At midnight katcream69 was online and typing. She was sitting in her bra and pants. The webcam box was too small for him to see who she was looking at. He couldn’t log in at the same time as her. It would cut her off if he did that. She seemed to be waiting and then she leant forward and looked into the webcam.

‘Have you missed me?’ Her voice was childlike, soft. There was no audible reply. Someone was typing. ‘I know, it won’t be long now, my love, and we will be together, just you and me and everything we have ever dreamed of…nothing will separate us then. No, there isn’t enough money. We need to do this. It has to be this way, believe me, it will be worth it. We all have our part to play in it. You know what yours is, my love. He is
coming out to you soon. Watch him, stay with him. Keep in touch. I need to know where he is all the time.’

‘If you have to, yes. You’ve killed before and you can do it again. I was right then, wasn’t I? I am right now too. Remember, you can’t trust anyone but me. I’ve always been there for you. Of course I love you, baby. I love the way you kiss me. I love the way you taste.’

Alfie watched her shoulders rise and fall. She was playing with herself. He couldn’t help feeling that she probably gave herself more satisfaction than any man could. ‘Remember, baby, they’re all against you, it’s just you and me till the end.’ She was getting excited now; Alfie listened to her moaning as she writhed in the chair and brought herself to orgasm. Then she blew a kiss into the webcam.

‘Remember, baby. it’s just you and me against the world, like it always has been, since we were kids.’

As she signed off, Alfie heard her talking to someone else; she was now out of camera range. He heard another voice in the room—it was a woman’s.

‘I just want to know, that’s all.’

Mann was waiting for his mother to answer. He made her sit whilst they talked. It was all too easy for her to avoid it otherwise. She sat opposite him in the lounge on the white, French furniture, ornate, never meant to be comfortable. It was nothing like they used to have. She had got rid of all of that. Behind her were photos of Mann with his father on the sideboard in silver frames. Molly had moved into the small flat after Deming died and the furniture from the big house had been culled, but still the room seemed overcrowded and the furniture out of keeping in its new surroundings. Then, Mann hadn’t understood why she had to downscale quite so much; now he did. The whole area had an air of ‘seen better times’ about it. As much as Mann kept nagging her, Molly never once spent the money she had sitting in the bank. Now he knew why.

She did not look at her son. He didn’t mind waiting. He was used to waiting for her to say what it was that was bothering her. He knew this was her least favourite
scenario, being forced into talking about a subject she’d rather never mention.

Mann sipped his tea and watched her. Her shoulders were narrow and stiff. Her hair was wound in a silver and pewter coil, and secured with an antique tortoiseshell clasp. She was getting thinner in her old age, but still upright as she sat perched on the edge of the chaise longue, as if there was a rod up her back, but the flesh on her arms was thinned and freckled with the sun damage. Her hands were long and graceful but papery thin. Mann put his cup down on the lace doily on one of a set of three mahogany side tables, and he sat back in the narrow, tall-backed armchair. Ginger, the cat, came to sit in front of Molly, waiting for a sign that it was allowed to jump onto her lap, waiting for her to sit back and make space. Molly put her cup down and gave an exaggerated sigh.

‘I don’t see what the point is in unearthing all these things about your father. He was a man like any other. He had his faults and his virtues. Why do we have to do it now?’

Mann looked at her; he could see she was trembling. He felt sorry for her and he spoke gently. ‘Because it affects us
now
. Because, if they are not dealt with, secrets have a habit of reappearing, don’t they? Nothing stays hidden forever.’

‘It should have done. Why did
we
have to know about it? What business is it of
ours
? Your father made a mistake.’ She was getting prickly. Ginger sensed it and backed off. ‘We shouldn’t let it ruin our lives. He has been dead for nineteen years. You spend too much time
thinking about things like how he died. Who ordered his death? You waste your energy on things that cannot be answered and, even if they could, it would make no difference, it would not bring him back. You should stop thinking about these things, son, and move on. Put them behind you.’

‘I won’t give up the search for Dad’s killer, Mum, I can’t do that. I live with the image of his death cemented in my brain. But I realise now that I hardly even knew him. Now it turns out that he had secrets that affect us all and they might explain his death. I need to know them. I have a right to know them—everything, good and bad.’

Mann paused for a minute. He knew he was on tricky ground. If he pushed his mother too hard he would never get her to cooperate. She was better at building walls than any construction worker. She had turned her attention out towards the balcony where a bird had come to feed from the bird table. ‘Mum, I know it’s hard for you but it’s too late to undo what’s done. I don’t know about you but I would rather not sit around and wait for that to unfold. I’m not too keen on surprises.’ He saw her shoulders rise and fall and he knew she was trying hard to be calm. ‘There was a time, not so long ago, that you wanted to talk about things. You mentioned that your relationship, your marriage wasn’t so good.’

‘That was before all this came up.’ She snapped back. ‘I don’t see why she had to contact us. The children are nothing to do with us.’ There was no anger in her voice, just exasperation and sadness. Mann could see
she was upset. She started fiddling with the hem of her beige Marks and Spencer’s cardigan that he had bought her last Christmas.

‘You had no idea that he had someone else?’

She shook her head.

‘You want to know my secrets? Then I will tell you…I was unlucky in love.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I picked the wrong man.’

She got up and went to watch the bird feeding on the crumbs she had left on the bird table.

‘I was pretty. I was wealthy. I was educated. I had grown up with an idea of marrying well. When I was nineteen I got engaged to someone but he jilted me. He never loved me. He broke my heart. He took my father for a lot of money. There was a lot of shame also because I was pregnant. I lost the child. But it was still a huge disgrace and my parents sent me to Hong Kong to stay with a cousin out here to recover.’ She gave a quiet, cynical laugh. ‘They had no idea how the colonials lived out here or what kind of girl my cousin was. They thought she had a decent job out here; in reality, she hardly worked. She spent most of her time partying. She was racy for that time. She smoked, she drank. She was part of the “in set”. I experienced a new type of people and I was introduced to your father. He seemed so quiet and respectful. We courted. I had known him for two months when he proposed and I accepted. I hardly knew him. I certainly did not know what life I would have here. I did not belong to Eleanor’s party set. I was married to a Chinese. It was not right for either of us, not in those days of snobbery and
racism; even in Hong Kong both sides kept their distance. It was an insult to be mixed race. I had no idea that my life would be so lonely. When you were born I was so happy, I didn’t care what anyone thought any more. But, so soon, it came to be time to send you to school and your father insisted you went to England.’ Molly sighed heavily. ‘But a part of me died. I felt as if I’d lost you forever. I wanted to go back with you, to England, but Deming wouldn’t allow it. My place was with my husband. My heart broke to let you go. My life was intolerable without you in it. Oh, he was kind enough to me but I was just a trophy wife to him. I had settled for respect, thinking it would become love but it never did. It must have been the same for him. That’s why he looked for love elsewhere, I suppose.’

‘What about you? Did you ever love anyone else?’

For a moment she turned back and looked fleetingly at him.

‘A friendship, nothing more.’

‘I am sorry, Mum. Really sorry. I can imagine how difficult it must have been. But the past is done with. We have all made decisions that we wish we’d reconsidered at the time, but Mum…Magda—’ Molly tutted with annoyance at the mention of her name. Mann persevered. ‘Magda didn’t
want
to ask for help, Mum. She did it because she had no choice. She has already lost a son last year in the tsunami.’

Molly turned sharply round to look at him and he could see she was shocked. She lowered her eyes as she listened to what he had to say. ‘She doesn’t want to lose another. And I don’t want to lose another brother.’

‘Half brother,’ she said, a wounded look in her eyes.

He smiled to himself. He could hear that she was relenting. Her voice had lost the panic, now only the sadness remained.

‘Yes, half brother,’ he said, kindly. ‘But unless there are any more likely to come out of the woodwork then this young boy is my only sibling and I want the chance to get to know him. Things are always better out in the open, Mum.’

She shot him a look that stung. ‘You’re mad if you think that, Johnny. Hong Kong is built on secret handshakes and unspoken deals. There are things you don’t ask about.’

‘Hong Kong may be based on secrecy, but we need to trust each other. I need to know things about my father that affect me. If they don’t, then by all means keep them secret, but something as important as him having other children, I need to know.’

‘I had no reason to tell you at the time. You were eighteen. You had suffered enough. My main concern was you. You had gone through a terrible ordeal.’ Her voice dropped off. She watched the bird pecking at the peanuts on the table. ‘That night when your father died I was out with Eleanor. I became a novelty to her in the end and this was one of those nights when she was showing me off. We played bridge. I lost. I got a call from the servants. The amah was crying down the phone. She only told me that some terrible accident had happened. I remember asking her: is Johnny all right? She didn’t answer me, she couldn’t. I didn’t wait for a taxi. I ran all the way from Eleanor’s, my heart
thumping, my lungs burning. I dreaded finding you dead. When I saw you standing there I was so relieved. But, as I walked forward, I saw Deming lying in front of the house, his head split open. And I remember my legs gave way and I crawled towards him. I tried to scream but I couldn’t. I was frozen on my hands and knees, and then I was staring at his head, his skull was smashed, his brain bulging from a massive gap and his face gone. I remember looking at the blood seeping onto the driveway and I remember thinking: we’ll never get that out; it will stain.’

The bird flew away from the bird table.

Mann stood and went over to rest his hands on her bony shoulders.

The sun hadn’t reached that side of the building yet, soon it would come in so strong that she would need the blind down. Already the aircon was humming away. Mann knew she wasn’t looking at anything.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. It must have been terrible for you.’

She reached a hand back and covered Mann’s that rested on her shoulder.

‘I am sorry I did not tell you sooner. I am sorry that the other boy died in such terrible circumstances. I would not wish that on any mother. I never want to meet her—Magda—but…’ She turned back from the window. ‘Go and find your brother, Johnny.’

It was five by the time Mann alighted at Admiralty station. He bought himself a bun from the French bakery before emerging into the late afternoon sunshine. It was the perfect temperature: Hong Kong was enjoying its best season, low humidity and cloudless skies. But it didn’t matter what season it was, Hong Kong was his home; he was born there and he would die there—hopefully not any time soon.

Mann’s office in the OCTB was in Headquarters, Central Police Station, just a short walk from the station through Harcourt Gardens. Mann had worked in the department for the last year. He was trying not to blow it. It was the kind of job he had joined the police force for sixteen years before, straight out of school. After the death of his father he had had personal issues to resolve: he wanted to make a difference and he had a serious hatred of triads. They had long since lost sight of their lofty aims to serve the people—now they were drug runners and people traffickers like every other scumbag gangster the world over. But they were far from easy prey. They hid themselves within the business community
like chameleons. They were more subtle than other mafia around the world. They had friends in high places and had nearly cost him his career and his life once or twice. But he had become an expert in their ways and now the police force needed him as much as he needed to work for it. His methods were unconventional and he trod on toes but Mann delivered. The OCTB needed him as much as he needed it—and it was what he lived for.

He turned into the entrance, through the electronic gates, and sprinted up the elevator and into a waiting empty lift. He stopped to show his warrant card before taking the elevator up to the twenty-third floor. There were four wings to each floor. The OCTB was spread over two floors. Mann’s office was in the West Wing, along the semi-circular corridor.

Mann passed interview rooms. They were having trouble with gangs in the Mong Kok area and they had hauled in twenty for questioning. Pam, the new female detective, was interrogating a suspect. Lucky bugger, thought Mann—it would be nice to be interrogated by a woman in a white, crisp cotton blouse and a tight pencil skirt. It was a pity she was busy—this would have been a perfect chance to introduce himself properly. He walked into his office and was met by the fantastic view of Hong Kong. Headquarters had been designed so that all the boring stuff took place in the central sections of the building—it was where suspects were held, identity parades carried out and the Incidents and Communications room was located—whilst all the offices had massive windows.

Even though the paint on Headquarters was barely
dry, there was already an air of scruffiness to it. The offices were crammed with files and the corridor had become a dumping ground for unwanted items of furniture.

Most of the senior inspectors had their own office. The rest shared with three or four others. Mann shared his with Sergeant Ng and Detective Li. Detective Li, a young detective otherwise known as Shrimp, was waiting for him.

Mann had worked with Shrimp for almost two years. During that time he had seen him evolve from boy to man but he still hadn’t lost that freshly scrubbed look to his face. He was an experimental dresser who normally favoured the vintage look. He swivelled his chair around as Mann entered.

‘Hello, boss. Ng’s on his way up, he had to go, but he filled me on the situation. Been busy looking at stuff for you. Discreetly, of course.’

Shrimp turned back round to his PC in the middle of his messy workstation, more tubes of hair gel than anything else, and he tapped on the keyboard, clicking various links until he found what he was looking for.

‘Thanks, Shrimp. I’ve put in a request for leave but it’s been refused. The Super wants to see me. I’ll catch up with you when I’m done.’

Mann walked down the corridor and knocked on the Superintendent’s door.

‘You wanted to see me, ma’am?’

The slender figure of Mia Tan seemed lost behind the massive desk. She hadn’t been in the post for long and she hadn’t had time to change things. The walls still bore
the outlines of the last occupant’s photos. There was a stunning view down towards the harbour. As Mann came in, an eagle flew alongside her window.

‘Sit down, Johnny.’

She might have looked small in stature but Mia was anything but diminutive. She was tough and clever and very ambitious. With her short hair and her oversized eyes, she had a quirky but striking look. She had a dancer’s physique, slim but strong. She trained hard at the gym. She wasn’t one of those women who wore full makeup to the gym and hated sweating. Whatever she did, she did well and with enthusiasm.

They had known each other since cadet school and had helped one another with some extracurricular nighttime revision now and again, but Mia was too ambitious to put up with Mann’s wild streak for long. Now she had been promoted over him and she was his boss.

‘Can’t let you take off to Thailand. There’ll be questions asked about why a Hong Kong policeman is going into a politically unstable area. If you get caught in any trouble it could start a major standoff between us and the rest of Asia. You know the top brass is looking for any chance they can to discipline you. I can’t stick my neck too far out for you, Johnny.’

‘You don’t have to, Mia.’

‘Yes, I do.’ She gave a small smile and lowered her eyes. ‘We go back a long way. If you had toed the line a bit more you would have been sat behind this desk. We trained together. You’ve had more experience of high profile cases than me. You deserved the promotion. But you are never going to get it unless you play ball.’

‘Mia. I need to do this. There are personal reasons why I have no choice. I have to go.’

She sighed. Outside the window the eagle lifted on the air currents and dipped its six-foot wings as it turned away from the window and flew off to find its mate.

‘I hope it’s worth it, Johnny. Whatever it is. If you get caught out there, none of us will be able to help you.’ She turned back from the window. ‘Just understand one thing, Johnny. You don’t have many lives left. There are so many people in this building who hate you. You’re really good at pissing people off.’

‘Well, I have to be good at something.’ He grinned.

‘You’re good at a lot of things, Johnny, that’s what pisses them off. If they didn’t need you, you’d be gone. You’re a loner, I know, but don’t spend too long out on a limb, Johnny. You may never be able to come back.’