Shadow Creatures (6 page)

They all looked at one another, each thinking the same thought.

Tara was the first one to say it. ‘Have you seen Rhino recently?’

Gecko glanced over at Calum. ‘Do you want me to text him?’

Calum nodded. ‘Please.’

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ Natalie asked. ‘You actually want someone – us! – to go to China –’

‘Hong Kong,’ Calum corrected mildly.

‘Which was, the last time I checked, in China –’

‘It’s actually a Special Administrative Region of China, rather than being part of the mainland. It used to belong to England, but it was handed back in 1997.’

‘Whatever. The point is, it’s not England and it’s not America. It’s a foreign country controlled by a government that does not have a good record on human rights. And
once we’re there you want us to go undercover and actually make a deal with these people. It’s not a good idea, Calum. It’s really not.’

‘Hong Kong has some very good shopping areas.’

‘That joke got old some time ago,’ she hissed. ‘Nice shops don’t work like catnip on me. Not any more.’ She shook her head for a moment, dismissing Calum’s
attempts to get her off topic. ‘Look, these guys are committing felonies. Firstly, that makes them very dangerous. This is almost certainly something to do with the Triads! Haven’t you
ever heard of them? They’re criminal gangs who are heavily into extortion, money laundering, people trafficking, smuggling and counterfeiting.’

‘How is it that you know so much about the Triads?’ Gecko asked.

‘I saw a documentary once,’ she said, without looking at him. ‘Calum, they kill people who get in their way! We need to tell the authorities about this, not go out there and
actually give them more money!’

‘I understand what you’re saying,’ he pointed out, ‘and I agree with you – in theory. The trouble is that if we report them then there’ll be a raid on the
warehouse and all the exotic animals will be taken away. Most of them will probably die, because the authorities will have no idea how to look after them. The rest will be released back into the
wild wherever they were taken from, where they’ll probably die anyway because they’ll be undernourished and under-exercised. Our only chance is to go and buy that giant rat
now.’

‘
Our
only chance?’

He gazed at her. ‘I thought we were all part of
thelostworlds.co.uk
, Natalie.’

‘Don’t try and guilt me out, Calum. I was there when you were arguing with my mom, remember? You want that DNA.
I
don’t want it.
Tara
doesn’t want it.
Gecko
—’

‘All right.’ He held up a hand. ‘I get the message. Yes, I have an ulterior motive, but if you really listened to the argument that your mother and I were having then
you’d know it’s not just about me – it’s about everyone who is paralysed, or has cancer, or suffers from some sort of genetic problem that could be treated using gene
therapy, if only the right genes could be found. That rat might have them.’

‘ “That
dirty
rat”,’ Tara murmured. She was quoting some film, Natalie knew, but Natalie wasn’t sure which one. Neither did she care. Rats
were
dirty.

‘You’re not helping,’ she snapped.

‘I’m not trying to help.’

Natalie turned to Calum. ‘So what happens when we do buy it? Do you want us to pretend it’s a dog and have it shipped back here in a pet carrier in the hold of an aircraft? I’m
pretty sure that customs will have something to say about that. Just getting a valid rabies certificate is going to be impossible.’

‘Xi Lang can probably fake one for you.’ Calum shrugged. ‘I’m sure he has this problem with all his exotic specimens.’ He shook his head, letting out a deep breath.
‘No, you’re right to raise these objections. The best thing to do would be to take a DNA sample and then hand the creature over to the Hong Kong authorities, along with the location of
the warehouse. I don’t need the giant rat
per se –
I just need its genetic material.’

‘So you will let us notify the authorities?’ she pushed.

‘
We?
’ he questioned. ‘So you
are
part of the team, then?’

‘I guess I am.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Besides, I can always sell it to Mom as an educational visit. If Rhino is going with us, then she’ll be content. She trusts him. And
it’s not like it’s the back end of nowhere – Hong Kong is a major city, with five-star hotels and good restaurants and everything.’

Calum glanced over at Gecko, who was just finishing typing a message into his mobile. ‘What about you, Gecko – are you in?’

He nodded enthusiastically. ‘For sure. I have never been to Hong Kong, but from what I have seen in movies the opportunities for free-running will be incredible!’

Tara put her hand up. ‘What about me? Can I go?’

Calum shook his head. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘there’s something technology-related that I need your help and advice on.’

Tara glanced at the bionic legs in the plastic crate. ‘Would it be those things?’

‘It would,’ he confirmed. ‘Controlled using brain waves.’

‘Ooh!’ she said, brightening up. ‘That sounds like fun!’

Gecko put his mobile back into his pocket. ‘I’ve texted Rhino and asked him to get in touch. I haven’t mentioned anything about giant rats or Chinese criminal gangs.’

Calum nodded. ‘OK, thanks.’ He glanced from Gecko to Natalie. ‘I suggest that the two of you make sure your passports are in order, and that you’ve had whatever
inoculations you’ll need for a trip to Hong Kong . . .’

‘Hepatitis A is recommended,’ Tara said, looking at the screen of her tablet, ‘and Hep B, typhoid, diphtheria and tuberculosis are suggested.’

Natalie looked confused. Is “recommended” one of those understated British ways of saying, “you’d be stupid not to”? Like “we
recommend
you wear a sun
hat if you’re going to spend several hours on Laguna Beach”? or “we
recommend
that you don’t put your entire arm inside a crocodile’s mouth”?’

Tara shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘that’s “
strongly
recommended”. Different category entirely. There are no “
strongly
recommended” inoculations for Hong Kong.’

‘Great,’ Calum said, clapping his hands together. ‘Go and start packing. Let’s meet back here tomorrow, and hopefully Rhino can be here as well.’

The coffee shop was on the edge of a small unfenced area of trees and grass – more of a village green than a park, Rhino Gillis thought to himself. He was moving around
casually, as if looking for something in particular. There was a pet shop on one side and an extreme sports shop on the other. There were also a lot of restaurants and wine bars – more than
one might expect for an area like this.

He was in Poole – a seaside town a stone’s throw away from Bournemouth. He was on business, and hadn’t chosen the location, but he was familiar with the area. The Royal Marines
and the Special Boat Service – the SAS’s aquatic sibling – were both based in Hamworthy Barracks, just a walk away.

That knowledge was going to give him an edge, and often having an edge was what saved his life.

He could smell the distant sea, and more closely the bitter odour of roasting coffee beans. Seagulls wheeled overhead in a bright blue sky. Men and women were lying out on the grass, soaking up
the sunshine, probably realizing that this was likely to be the only summer’s day that year. Dogs were being walked by relaxed owners in shorts or cargo pants. One of the dogs – a big
black Labrador – was playing in the fountain in the centre of the park.

With a practised gaze he checked out the various people around him. None of them seemed to be paying him undue attention. None of them looked as though they were poised to spring into action if
anything suddenly happened. To all intents and purposes, everyone was what they seemed: local people relaxing in the hot weather.

He walked into the cafe. It was small, wood-floored, with hand-painted cartoons on the walls.

Rhino scanned the tables. Only two of them were occupied: one by an elderly woman and the other by two blond surfer types who were talking in low voices. His contact had not yet arrived.

He put his jacket down on a chair close to the door and went up to the counter. A small blonde girl with a tattooed arm smiled at him. ‘What can I get you?’

‘A double espresso,’ he replied, smiling back.

‘Anything to eat?’

‘Too hot,’ he said. ‘I completely lose my appetite in the summer.’

‘I know what you mean. Take a seat and I’ll bring the coffee over.’

He sat at the table he had already reserved with his jacket, making sure that his back was against the wall and that he could see the entire cafe.

He checked his watch. One minute to go.

The blonde girl brought his coffee across and placed it in front of him. He smiled a ‘thank you’ and took a sip of the bitter liquid.

On the dot of one o’clock a man walked into the cafe. He was tall, black, with close-cropped black hair. He was wearing suit trousers, but had the jacket slung over his arm. His white
shirt was crisp despite the heat. He had the sleeves rolled up. His tie was pulled loose.

He saw Rhino, nodded, and came across to stand over the table.

‘Mr Gillis?’

Rhino nodded.

‘My name is Tzuke.’ His voice was deep and almost theatrical. ‘Forgive me, but given the circumstances I won’t shake hands.’

‘Worried that I might be able to trace you through DNA transfer?’ Rhino asked, smiling.

Tzuke smiled back, but didn’t say anything.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Rhino asked.

‘Let me pay for
your
drink, and get one for myself.’ He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

He turned and went up to the counter. Rhino glanced outside the cafe. Nobody else was standing there. Either Tzuke had come alone or his bodyguards were being exceptionally discreet.

The man returned with a glass of cloudy lemonade, placed his jacket on the back of a chair and sat down. He glanced at Rhino’s chest. ‘Thank you for leaving your jacket off. I can
see no evidence of any recording device on you.’ He ran his hands beneath the table, leaning forward to cover the area nearer Rhino. The floral smell of his aftershave was almost
overpowering. ‘And nothing hidden beneath the table either. Well done.’

‘Your instructions were clear,’ Rhino said calmly. He nodded his head towards the coffee roaster. ‘And, besides, I presume you chose the location and the time so that there
would be enough background noise to prevent any eavesdropping.’

‘Indeed,’ Tzuke said casually, ‘but technology has come a long way; it’s best to take all precautions possible. Speaking of which, may I see your mobile phone?’

Rhino took it out of his jacket and placed it on the table. While Tzuke checked it over with economical, practised movements he took another sip of his espresso, nearly finishing it.

‘Already switched off,’ Tzuke said. ‘Thank you. I am carrying a mobile-phone jammer in my suit, of course, but I always believe in a “belt and braces”
approach.’

‘You’ve done this before,’ Rhino murmured.

Tzuke raised an eyebrow. ‘You need to be aware that I am just a facilitator,’ he said, ‘a go-between. I am not a criminal.’

‘You just work for criminals,’ Rhino said.

‘I make no moral judgements. I am a solicitor. I am hired to do a job by a client. The job is entirely legal.’

‘Two people were kidnapped by Somali pirates while they were sailing off the coast of Africa,’ Rhino pointed out, ‘and you are here collecting the ransom. That doesn’t
sound legal to me.’

‘I don’t know what the money is for,’ Tzuke said, smiling cheerfully, ‘and I don’t know where it is going. I have merely been hired to collect a payment and pass it
on.’

‘While taking a cut yourself.’

‘I am providing a business service. That does not come free.’

‘Speaking of the “service” you provide, I believe you have to give me proof of life,’ Rhino countered. ‘I need to know that Peter and Sarah Wilkerson are still
alive and in good health; otherwise the ransom does not get paid and you do not get your cut.’

Tzuke reached into his jacket and removed a brown A4 envelope, which had been folded in half. He handed it across to Rhino. ‘I do not know what is in the envelope. I was just told to give
it to you.’

Rhino pulled the flap open and removed a single sheet of paper. It was a photograph, printed by a laser printer. It showed a couple who looked as if they were in their thirties. It also looked
as if they had been wearing the same clothes for several weeks, and had spent most of that time either worrying or crying. There were shadows beneath their eyes, and the man – definitely
Peter Wilkerson, based on other photographs Rhino had seen, provided by his family – was unshaven. They both looked as if they were at the end of their tether. Peter Wilkerson had his arm
protectively around his wife’s shoulders. She was holding up an African newspaper so that the front page was clearly visible. Rhino presumed that it was yesterday’s newspaper, proving
at least that they had been alive and in relatively good health twenty-four hours ago. He would make sure later, from his laptop.

‘Is that sufficient?’ Tzuke asked.

‘It is.’

‘Thankfully, the days when the envelope would have contained a severed finger or an ear are long gone. Digital cameras and emails are a boon.’

‘By the way,’ Rhino said, ‘if we checked, I presume we wouldn’t find out that this image had been printed on your
own
home or office printer?’ He folded the
page back up and put it back into the envelope.

‘Of course not.’ Tzuke smiled his easy smile again. ‘I am not that stupid, and neither are my clients.’

‘Of course.’ Rhino smiled back at him. ‘You
are
Somali though, aren’t you?’

‘As are several million other people, most of whom are neither engaged in acts of piracy nor working for or with the pirates. I am, as I said, just a solicitor.’ He indicated the
envelope. ‘Are you satisfied?’

‘Very little about this business satisfies me, but that’s a cross I have to bear. You seem to have fulfilled your side of the agreement.’