Hungry Ghost (48 page)

‘Who is Sophie?’ she asked.

‘A friend of ours,’ lied Howells without a second thought. ‘He’s worried about her, that’s all.’

‘A girlfriend?’

‘No, just a friend.’ Over his shoulder he called to Dugan. ‘Let her check the stuff, Dugan.’

Dugan did as he was told, not sure if he could resist if he wanted to. He picked up the bag and handed it to Amy. She unzipped it and gasped when she saw the small gold ingots.

‘Wah!’ she exclaimed. ‘So much gold!’

‘The diamonds, check the diamonds, Amy.’

She took the small pouch out of the attaché case which she placed on her knees while she poured the stones out carefully, almost reverently, into the palm of her delicate hand. They glittered and shone in the sunlight, and she pushed her sunglasses up on the top of her head while she admired them, open-mouthed.

‘They are beautiful,’ she said softly. Howells took a quick look over his shoulder as he drove.

‘Pick two of the biggest and give them to me.’

She selected two and handed them to him. Howells studied them as best he could with one hand on the wheel.

‘They’re real all right,’ said Dugan. ‘I wouldn’t let them take any risks with Sophie’s life.’ Howells believed him. They looked genuine enough.

‘I haven’t hurt her, Dugan, but I’m quite prepared to. You are going to have to be one hundred per cent honest with me because if I don’t get away then she stays locked up where she is. She’ll starve to death, Dugan, and take it from me that’s not a pleasant way to die. Now tell me, is there a trace on this stuff?’

Dugan closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He wanted to sleep, he wanted to lie down in a big, comfortable feather bed. With Petal.

‘What?’ asked Howells sharply.

Dugan realized he must have spoken her name out loud. He opened his eyes again and looked at the back of Howells’ head. He couldn’t take the chance of lying; if Howells scrutinized the attaché case he’d soon find the homing device. ‘Yes,’ he said.

‘I’d have been surprised if there wasn’t. Amy, put the diamonds back in the pouch and give it to me.’ They were driving through a high-rise residential area, blocks and blocks of flats, balconies covered with potted plants and washing, many shielded with ornate metal grilles that bulged outwards as if to proclaim dominance over as much space as possible, even if it was just empty air.

She did as she was told, taking great pains not to drop any. The taxi stopped at a set of traffic lights and she kept her hands low so that the people in the next car couldn’t see what she was doing. She gave the pouch to Howells and he put it on the seat next to his leg, then he handed her the two diamonds over his shoulder.

‘Keep them,’ he said. ‘I’ll get them made into earrings for you.’ She didn’t understand so he squeezed his left ear with his fingers. ‘Earrings,’ he repeated slowly. ‘For you.’

Amy protested, but not too vociferously, and then she wrapped them in a paper tissue and slipped the small parcel into her jacket pocket.

The traffic was heavier now as Howells drove through a built-up area; more high-rise housing and a growing number of shops, so he had to concentrate on driving, switching from lane to lane, looking for the gaps and the hold-ups, knowing that the triads wouldn’t be too far behind him. They went up a flyover and Howells saw the airport to his left. With a screaming and a roaring a 747 swooped low on its final approach, its landing gear down, so close that Howells ducked involuntarily.

‘Do you know where we are, Amy?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Coming up to Yau Ma Tei. This is Waterloo Road. Then it’s Jordan and then Tsim Sha Tsui and the harbour.’

‘Is there an MTR station close by?’

‘Yes, after the YMCA. Not far.’

‘OK, listen, Amy. I’m going to drop you there and I want you to go down and catch the first train you see. The men I told you about are after us and I want you to be safe. I’ll get away from them and when I’ve sold the diamonds I’ll go back to your flat.’

‘I want to stay with you, Geoff,’ she said, beginning to tremble.

‘I want you to be safe,’ he repeated. ‘I don’t want to have to worry about you. I want you to take the gold and keep it safe for me. It’s very important. Will you do it for me?’

Amy nodded, but even Dugan could see that she wasn’t convinced.

‘I need you,’ said Howells quietly, and that seemed to make her mind up for her. She clasped the attaché case to her chest and pointed at the junction ahead.

‘There, MTR station.’

‘OK,’ said Howells. ‘Now, when I stop I want you to run, and don’t stop running until you’re on the train.’

‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Be careful.’ She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek, and spoke to him hurriedly in Chinese. Howells slammed on the brakes and the car behind him sounded its horn as he screeched to a halt. Amy flung the door open and ran for the entrance without looking back. Howells reached over the back of the seat with his left arm and closed the door behind her before driving off. Dugan had his head slumped back and he was breathing heavily, almost snoring. As Howells accelerated again Dugan’s head rolled forward on to his chest.

‘What did she say?’ asked Howells.

‘She said she loved you. You’re a bastard. You know they’ll catch her.’ He slurred his words as he spoke.

Howells grinned. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But it’s rush hour so she’s got a fighting chance. And she’ll keep them occupied. While they’re following her, I’ll dump the taxi and disappear into the next MTR station. Then you can go and collect your niece.’

Howells thought it best not to mention the fact that just feet behind Dugan, lying in the boot, was the body of the owner of the taxi, his neck broken. He hadn’t told Amy, either. He’d gone out on his own and returned with the taxi, telling her that he’d paid a few thousand dollars to borrow it. He’d considered just knocking the man out but he couldn’t take the chance of him coming round and calling the police, so he’d told the driver to take him up a deserted sidestreet behind a foul-smelling dyeing plant and he’d grabbed his head and twisted, feeling the neck crack and enjoying it.

‘She’s out of the taxi,’ Lin screamed into his walkie-talkie.

‘What about Dugan?’ said Ng, his voice crackling in Lin’s ear.

‘He’s still there. Heading your way.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Yau Ma Tei MTR. At the junction of Waterloo Road and Nathan Road. She’s in the station.’

‘With the case?’

‘Yes, she’s . . .’

Ng didn’t let him finish. ‘Go after her. Don’t lose her. We’ll pick up Dugan.’

Lin threw the door open and jumped on to the pavement, the detector in his hand. Lam scrambled over the seat and ran after him. ‘Come on,’ Lin screamed at Tse. ‘Leave the fucking van where it is.’ Tse did as he was told and as the three stormed into the entrance of the MTR station the drivers blocked in behind the van began to sound their horns impatiently.

The three triads stood outside the door to Amy’s flat. Suen had his gun in his hand, cocked and ready, while the two Red Poles had large knives by their sides. Suen knocked on the door and listened carefully for footsteps. Nothing. He knocked again. Still nothing.

‘Break it down,’ he said to Ah-wong, the bigger of the two heavies. Ah-wong stepped back and kicked the door hard, just below the lock. It gave a little and there was the sound of tearing wood, then he kicked it again and it sagged on its hinges. It caved in on the third go and the three men spilled into the small flat. It took only a few seconds to see that there was no one there, but they spent some time searching it thoroughly for a clue as to where the girl and the gweilo had gone.

Ah-wong found a blood-stained pillow case at the bottom of a black plastic bag of rubbish in the kitchen and he brought it triumphantly into the lounge. Suen went through the bathroom cabinets. He found a half-empty bottle of hair dye there and he noticed that the sink was stained black in places, though someone had tried to clean it with a cloth. There was a pair of scissors in the cabinet, too, and the drain in the sink was clogged with bits of hair.

‘Look at this,’ called Ah-wong. ‘Look what I’ve found.’ Suen went back into the lounge and Ah-wong waved the blood-stained material under his nose. ‘We’re in the right place,’ he said to Suen.

‘But at the wrong time,’ replied Suen.

‘Let’s get back to the car,’ said Ah-wong, heading for the door.

‘Fuck your mother,’ said Suen. ‘We phone Ng first.’

One by one Ng called up the cars that had been following behind Lin, told them the girl had taken the diamonds down the MTR station and gave them instructions to get there as soon as possible and follow her down. While he was talking to the Red Poles the car phone rang. Ng Wai-sun leant over and picked it up. It was Kenny Suen.

‘We found where the gweilo was hanging out,’ said Suen, obviously pleased with himself. ‘He was with a girl from one of the Wan Chai bars. She’d let him stay in her flat while Dr Wu treated him. They’re not there now.’

‘The girl, what does she look like?’ the old man said.

‘Medium height, high cheekbones, she looks a bit Shanghainese. Dr Wu says she’s about twenty-four years old.’

‘We have seen her,’ said Ng Wai-sun. ‘We are pursuing her now.’

‘Oh,’ said Suen, sounding disappointed.

‘She collected the ransom for the gweilo,’ Ng Wai-sun explained. ‘But we have not seen the gweilo yet. We think she is on the way to see him.’

‘Did she look twenty-four?’ asked Suen. ‘I mean, could she be older?’

‘No, she was a young girl, dressed more like a teenager than anything else. Why?’

‘There was hair dye all over the sink, it was a real mess. I thought maybe she had dyed her hair. But if it wasn’t her . . .’

‘Then it must be the gweilo,’ said the old man, finishing the sentence for him. ‘You have done well. Very well indeed.’

He replaced the phone and waved his finger to attract his son’s attention. Ng took the walkie-talkie away from his ear to listen. ‘The gweilo has dyed his hair,’ said Ng Wai-sun softly. ‘Black.’

‘The driver!’ hissed Ng. ‘And he’s behind us.’

‘How far?’ asked his father.

‘Less than half a mile.’ He told Hui to stop the Merc, no matter how much it annoyed the drivers behind. ‘Put the hazard warning lights on, let them think we’ve broken down. He’ll be here within two minutes.’ He asked his father to open the glove compartment and the old man reached in and handed over the handgun that he found there. Ng took out the clip and then banged it home again, checking that the safety catch was off. He caught his father looking at the gun with a worried frown. ‘It will be all right,’ he said. ‘As far as we know he is not armed. But we can take no chances. The man is a killer.’

‘Be careful,’ said Ng Wai-sun. ‘I have already lost one son.’

Ng began calling up his triad soldiers, ordering Lin and his team, and one other group of Red Poles who had already arrived at the MTR station, to keep after the girl. The rest were to catch up with the taxi as soon as possible. But from the sound of it the gweilo would reach the Mercedes at least a minute or so before any of the Red Poles would be close enough to make a difference.

Amy was fumbling for her MTR card as she ran into the station, and it was in her hand by the time she got to the barrier. She slotted the plastic card home and then collected it from the return slot at the top of the ticket machine before pushing the barrier and running for the down escalator. As always the Hong Kong commuters seemed reluctant to walk down the moving metal staircase and Amy had to push and shove her way down, all the time repeating ‘
m goy, m goy
’, but even so she was cursed and glared at.

It seemed to take a lifetime before she reached the platforms. The one to the left was for trains heading for Tsim Sha Tsui and on to Central, that on the right was for those going out to the New Territories. She felt a warm wind on her right cheek and knew that that signified a train coming. She ran to the edge of the platform and stood there, her legs shaking and her chest heaving, panting for breath. She looked behind her at the escalator, but all she saw were lines of impassive faces, nobody seemed to be chasing her. She heard the roar of the train and it sped out of the blackness of the tunnel and into the light. It growled to a stop and the doors gushed open, disgorging its passengers. Amy forced her way through before the last of them had got off and leant against the steel pole in the middle of the carriage. From where she stood she could see right along the line of connected carriages, two hundred metres or more. People flooded in, diving to get a place on the long, polished metal seats or a space to the side of the door so they could be first off at their station. The people of Hong Kong treated their mass transit system the same way that they lived their lives – the strong got the best places and got where they were going, the weak were left behind, standing on the platform when the doors closed. That’s what it would be like come 1997, Amy thought. Those that pushed and fought would get out, those apathetic or incapable would be swamped by the one billion Chinese on the mainland. Amy knew that alone she would never be able to escape, but with Geoff Howells, maybe, just maybe, she would find a way out. He was strong, he was confident, and he had money. And she was helping him. In return, she knew, he would help her. But first she had to get away from the men who were chasing her.

She saw them then, at the top of the escalator. She heard the driver warning passengers to stand clear of the doors, first in Chinese and then in mumbling English, as three hefty men began shouting and pushing people out of their way as they scrambled down. One of them, a big man with bulging forearms and a small pigtail, almost made it, using his sheer bulk to force his way down. He leapt on to the platform but at the same moment the doors hissed shut. He ran forward and tried to claw his way into the carriage next to where Amy was standing but he was too late; the train pulled away, slowly at first and then picking up speed until the advertisements on the walls blurred. The man with the pigtail screamed and kicked out at the moving train and then Amy was in the black tunnel, heading for the New Territories with the attaché case clasped to her chest.