FEARLESS FINN'S MURDEROUS ADVENTURE (42 page)

There have been times I’ve had a stick of Semtex in one hand and a thirty second pencil fuse in my other hand, and those were less explosive situations than the one I’m about to walk into. Well…in for a penny, in for a pound…as every bookie likes to hear you say.

———

We got a cheerful ‘good morning’ from the porter as we walked into the lobby of Citizen Tower. For some reason, I decided not to enter the penthouse through the foyer; I pushed the button in the private lift for the second floor. As we rode up, Anna gave me one of those
well what
? looks, with her head cocked to one side. I didn’t respond.

All of a sudden a feeling of dread came over me, and a primeval sense compelled me to push Anna to the back of the lift. When the doors opened my eyes fell on a pool of blood on the carpet. A silent cry rose in my throat.

Susie is hanging upside down from the spiral staircase that goes up to our bedroom. Her feet are tied together with her favourite Hermes scarf, and her wonderful breasts are there…on the carpet below her. I see no other wounds on her naked body.

“
Min Gud den fattiga flickan, den fattiga flickan
….” Anna whispered, as she stifled a cry.

Anna took my hand, led me to a chair and asked me for the emergency number of the police. “Nine nine nine,” I whispered.

I see Anna’s lips moving, but I can’t understand what she’s saying. She went into my office with the cordless phone and came back with the spike for the household bills. Tearing off the top bill, she read something into the phone. I’m watching everything, but it’s as if it’s in slow motion.

Anna replaced the phone on its cradle and stepped over to the mini bar. She handed me a glass half full of golden-brown liquid. The cognac burnt my throat, but I coughed and regained some of my senses. Words can’t describe the fury…the rage…the horror…the agony…and the sorrow I feel. As my rage diminishes, it’s replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss.

“Who was that on the phone? Was it a call for Susie, poor Susie, poor Tits. She was so proud of them you know. Who did you say was on the phone?”

“The police.…They’ll be here in five minutes Finn.”

“Jaysus…the police….Yes, of course…the police. Five minutes you say? Good. Jaysus, the forged passports…the Finnish doctor’s letter…the TSR tickets….”

Anna and I stuffed everything suspicious in a bright yellow plastic bag and sealed it with a twist tie. I ran around the balcony and threw the bag into the palm trees behind Citizen Tower.

“Shite Anna, there’s no Hong Kong arrival stamp in your Swedish passport. Let me think!”

“There is Finn….Sui-Lin stamped it to show my arrival ten days ago.”

“Thanks be to Jaysus, that’s something at least.”

From the frying pan into the effing fire, as Mac would say. It had to be those Russian bastards, but why Susie? And how so quick? Vinnie told me that the Russians who killed Galina Maksimovna’s hall porter were dealt with in Moscow. What the feck was done to them?

The phone just rang. The porter told me to send the private lift down for the police; I told him to send them up to the second floor. I waved Anna to a couch, and then I shut my eyes and pressed myself to the wall.

Two policemen in dark blue uniforms stepped into the second-floor lounge of the penthouse. They walked around the pool of blood on the carpet and didn’t even seem to notice Susie. They asked me and Anna for our names and addresses, but the identity of the upside down, breastless female body doesn’t appear to concern them.

“I see you’re British, yes? Mister Finn, is it?”

“No officer, it’s Finn Flynn. My first name is Finn, family name Flynn.”

“Unusual name….And you? You are Swedish, Miss?”

“
Ja officer, som är korrekt
…yes officer, that is correct.”

“We’ll need to see your Hong Kong identity card Mister Flynn, and your passport Miss. And do you have identification for the deceased?” They finally acknowledged the naked female body hanging upside down from the spiral staircase.

“Her name is…or was…Mrs. Susanne Cooke. I don’t know if she has a Hong Kong identity card.”

“And would you know her age, date of birth, address in Hong Kong, next of kin?”

This fellah is a bloody robot. It seems he learnt the procedure for questioning people – in the event of an unexplained corpse – by rote.

“Thirty-one last birthday….I missed it. Next of kin…her father…I suppose. He’s a Queen’s Counsel, Thames Court Chambers in London, name unknown. They weren’t on speaking terms. Her last known address is right here. Please tell me officer, are you going to do anything about the body?”

“Not until the chief superintendent arrives.”

“And when’s that likely to be?”

“Right now. I’ll take over officer. Good evening Finn. Bad business. It is Finn, isn’t it?”

Thank Christ, a face I know. It’s ‘Chopper’ Conway, aka Chief Superintendent Peter Conway. He’s number one loosehead prop for the Royal Hong Kong Police Rugby Team, and a frequent visitor at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club.

Chopper is discreet, businesslike, and we quickly got through introductions. He told someone to tell the coroner’s lads to get their arses in gear. Like many strong, confident men, Chief Superintendent Conway understands that not everyone copes with tragedy as he does.

“I suggest that you two check into a hotel for the next week. This will be a crime scene for at least that long. But I’ll restrict the crime scene to this lounge, unless there is some reason not to. There’s no point in having big boots tramping all over this splendid penthouse. Do you two need a doctor…something for shock, perhaps?”

Anna and I both shook our heads no.

“I’ll have someone drive you…Mandarin Oriental, Ritz-Carlton?”

“Not this time, Peter. The Island Shangri-La, I think,” I said.

As we’re leaving the penthouse I realise that I’ll never live here again. I’ll never be able to wipe the image of Susie’s mutilated body from my memory. Anyway, whoever killed her is sending me a message. I got the message, and I’m not about to lose Anna as well….

Anna’s doing all she can to comfort me. Like someone navigating through a minefield, she doesn’t ask awkward questions about Susie, or anything else. She just wants to know if she can help, and she already is…helping that is.

———

Anna and I slept together last night, but apart from a kiss goodnight and a kiss good morning, there was nothing physical. Not surprisingly, neither of us feel like having sex.

After breakfast she asked me if she should fly home. I want her to stay, but it’s too dangerous.

“Yes?” she asked again.

“Go home love, go home,” is all I said.

I bought Anna a large Cartier travel bag and a Cartier garment bag for her fur coat, hat and wrap. We got her furs out of the hotel’s cold storage and packed up her remaining belongings. I booked her first class on Lufthansa to Frankfurt, and then first class on SAS to Stockholm.

On our way to the airport we stopped at the Central Police Station on Hollywood Road. It’s around the corner from Arbuthnot Road, and within walking distance of the FCC. Looking out the rear window of the police station, I see people walking in the front door of the FCC – people I know, people who knew Susie. Chopper Conway has ordered a total news blackout, and it dawned on me that no one else knows what happened to Tits.

Anna and I took a taxi to the airport, and I promised to see her soon; this time I mean it. We talked about meeting later in the year in Brighton, England. Sweden doesn’t seem like such a good idea, so back to where we first met seems better.

———

My mind's eye is overflowing with images of Susie’s savage murder. Her plummy Sloan Ranger accent and her lust for life are gone forever. The beauty and vitality that brought such pleasure to me, her husband, her university professor, and her first lover – Marie-Thérèse Gullet – are gone…forever.

The Russians are going to pay for butchering Susie. I’m in two minds about asking Mac to help, especially as he’s already done a job for me in Hong Kong…and he seems to have got away with it. But even if I get logistical support from a Triad Society and the Mafia, this is not one I can tackle solo.

I have no choice but to call Mac….

Mac and I spent the last twenty-four hours making practical arrangements to murder at least a dozen Russian pimps in Macau. The planning took my mind off the horror of what was waiting for me on my return home.

Uncle Sui is meeting me in my suite at the Island Shangri-La in a little while. I hope he agrees that it was the Russians who murdered Susie. Who else could it be?

I’ll inform him that a man experienced in reprisals will be joining me. Describing Mac as experienced in reprisals is one of my greater understatements. After Mac’s entire family was slaughtered by a gang of Unionist thugs, he turned into a calculating, efficient, cold-blooded executioner.

LANTAU ISLAND and HONG KONG

Nataliya Yelena answered
the phone; she handed me the cordless handset with a curious expression on her face. I got a feeling something’s wrong and walked out to the patio.

“There’s been a death you need to know about. Keep mother and daughter out of harm’s way.” I hardly recognise Finn’s voice.

Uncle Sui came on the line. “Vincenzo, Eddie Tang will be with you shortly to take Nataliya Yelena and daughter to safety. Stay in the house until he arrives, then come to the Island Shangri-La immediately. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your loved ones safe,” he said, before he put down the phone.

———

Earl, Uncle Sui, and a weary-looking Finn Flynn are sort of hidden from view by the thirty foot flower display in the Island Shangri-La. The sweet aroma of the flowers is wafting through the huge hotel lobby, but the perfume of so many blooms does nothing to lighten the ugly mood around the table.

Uncle Sui took my arm and pulled me close to him. “Did Eddie tell you that Nataliya Yelena and Nakita Sylvina will be protected day and night in my fortress on Cheung Chau Island?” I nodded and thanked him. He dismissed my thanks with a wave of his hand.

As Uncle Sui slowly began to describe the horror that met Finn and Anna on their arrival at Finn’s home, all eyes turned towards Finn. What Uncle Sui’s telling us explains the expression on Finn’s face…and the reason we were called here in such a hurry. Finn’s suffered such a loss…while doing me a selfish service. And to think, I was planning on ripping him off over the African bush deals.
Cristo
!

“God forgive me, but I’ll see them dead…every last one of the feckers…dead,” Finn announced, in a calm, flat voice with no emphasis at all.

The purpose of this get-together just got crystal clear. People are going to die; there’s no doubt about that. Hearing Finn talk like Uncle Angelo talks when he’s seething with anger would frighten the crap out of anyone, but with his soft Irish accent, Finn comes across even more resolved and businesslike.

No one said anything for a few minutes.

Earl broke the silence. “Angelo was only trying to help when he had his friends in Chinatown fix it with their Snakeheads friends in China to meet Finn. When Angelo heard that the Snakeheads’ immigration man got arrested…and that they were grumbling about helping a prostitute…he made sure they were compensated for their trouble, and the vehicle….”

Jesus! I shot Earl a shut-the-hell-up look. I’ve already told Finn about Uncle Angelo’s help, but hearing Earl say it makes me feel a lot worse…especially with everything that’s happened. And I was so worried about everything that I didn’t think to tell Uncle Sui about the friends of Uncle Angelo’s friends! But how was Uncle Angelo keeping tabs on everything in China? What if his compensation wasn’t enough, and a disgruntled Snakehead talked to the Russians…and that’s how Susie ended up murdered? Holy Mother of God!

Uncle Sui doesn’t seem too happy hearing about Uncle Angelo’s help either. Of course, with the constant deadpan expression on Uncle Sui’s face, you never really can tell with him.

“Yes Earl. We know Angelo was only trying to help. It is just a shame that no one told me of the involvement of the Snakeheads….” said Uncle Sui. “Nevertheless, my friends got to Theatre Apartments too late to prevent the deadly torture of the grandmother’s hall porter. But half of my friends went after the Russian Mafia thugs, and the other half waited for Mrs. Galina Maksimovna to return home. As you know, Vincenzo, Mrs. Maksimovna suffered a great shock when she saw her hall porter nailed to her door. She was taken to hospital, but she has recovered nicely. She is now safe in a
dacha
outside Moscow…with plenty of food, warmth, and a friend of hers for company. And unlike most Russian
babushkas
, they refused the case of vodka offered by my friends in the Russian branch of our beloved Sun Yat Sun Triad. My friends found the men who mutilated the hall porter and so terrified the grandmother, and they killed them as they left the Yolki-Palki café in Klimentovsky Pereulok.”

Finn came to life when he heard the name of the café. “Shite, Anna and I were only in that café two weeks ago!”

A waitress came to the table and laid out tea and sandwiches. She said they were complimentary – thanks to Finn’s friend Roger Wynne, the head concierge.