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She glided the final couple of paces and placed her cool palm in my not-so-cool one. Her expression was the perfect balance of concerned and welcoming. I’d seen it before, yesterday, at the airport. ‘Kitty said you were in need of help.’

I didn’t smile, didn’t frown, just kept everything in neutral.

Her free hand, clear polished nails like talons, covered the two of ours that were still engaged. ‘Welcome. I will do everything in my power to help you. This is a very emotional and very worrying time. I know that, Nick. I know. You’re at your wit’s end. Seeking help for a loved one, the trauma, the distress can take its toll. But I want you to know I’ve helped hundreds of people like you and your partner. I can bring an end to your suffering. You’ve found what you’ve been looking for so, please, let me take some of your load.’

‘Thank you.’

She finally let me have my hand back and guided me up the
stairs. ‘Now, Nick – may I call you Nick? Would you like some coffee?’

I nodded a yes to both questions. The first floor was yet another shrine to wood and leather. Well-dressed people sipped coffee, read papers, checked if the Hong Kong exchange was performing strongly enough for them to add to their fleet. The wall facing the marina was floor-to-ceiling glass. Hundreds of super-yachts and gin palaces were parked up cheek by jowl like limos in a short-term car park. They were hemmed in by the buildings and small industrial units surrounding the inlet, but it was clear that their owners were riding out the recession just fine. Over to the right, an elderly woman in a bathing cap was doing methodical lengths of the club pool.

Sophie saw me scanning the place. ‘I know. Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ She put an attentive hand on my shoulder, just as she had done with the Moldovan girls.

Close up, I could see that while she kept herself in good shape, it was a struggle. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but the ruby on her right ring finger probably took a few hours in the gym to get the strength to lift. A gold Cartier Tank glinted on her opposite wrist – not cheap, even in Hong Kong. She smoked. I could see a pack of Benson & Hedges in her open bag. She behaved and dressed like a top executive – though her type of business didn’t have cards and a boardroom.

‘Have you been to Hong Kong before, Nick?’

‘No. But I heard and read online that I could get what I needed here. I have to find a kidney donor. I don’t care that much about the view.’ It had to be said. Neither of them had come out with it, and I wanted to make sure they hadn’t misunderstood me, that ‘kidney’ wasn’t Cantonese for ‘shiny new boat’.

Her hand settled on my shoulder. ‘You know, I’ve had an idea. We could sit here and talk or, if you’d let me, I could take you out on the water. The view is stunning. You’ll see Hong Kong in a totally different way. One glimpse of it and you’ll want to come back with your partner afterwards, as a gift to yourselves for all you’ve been through.’

She could see my cogs starting to turn.

‘I was going to take a couple of hours out today anyway. Then Kitty called and I thought maybe you’d like to come too. Hong Kong from the sea – a little slice of Heaven!’

She paused for a second to give me some more thinking time. It might be a stitch-up. Maybe I’d pushed a bit hard and, like Kim, she thought I was a cop or a reporter. But her dentistry was still on maximum wattage. And if I really did have four hundred K to spend, a nice boat trip was a small price to pay for my business.

‘Unless you get seasick, of course. We can sit here if you prefer. Whatever you fancy, Nick.’

‘You know what?’ I smiled too, but didn’t forget to let her see the pain behind my eyes. ‘My partner loves boats.’

We went around to the back of the club and out onto one of the wooden pontoons. The blisteringly hot air carried the tang of the sea, the rev of an engine, the blast of a boat horn. The traffic on the main road was almost drowned by the incessant chink of the rigging. The sunlight was full-on now and Sophie’s gigs had come down like the Stig’s visor.

I squinted up at the vegetation hanging off the balconies of a nearby high-rise, and the massive square hole carved through the top third of the building.

She followed my gaze. ‘You know about
feng shui
?’

I nodded. ‘
Chi
flow, something like that?’

She gave me a flash of teeth. ‘Spot on. It means they can charge out the apartments at fifteen thousand dollars a square foot. The mainland Chinese are the rich ones now. People like me are the new coolie class. Those guys buy these places so they can sit and watch their babies.’

She waved in the direction of the millions of dollars bobbing up and down in front of us.

We stopped at a stainless-steel gate and she tapped the keypad. It opened with a discreet buzz. She ushered me through ahead of her. ‘You’re British, aren’t you, Nick? Can I detect a London accent? We just adore
EastEnders
here.’

‘You can. But I moved to Moscow a few years back, for work.’

‘I hear Moscow is quite a place. What is it you do there?’

‘Oil and gas. But I don’t get out much. Admin is more my thing than fieldwork.’

‘Whatever pays the bills, eh?’ She stopped for a moment. ‘You know what? You’re now walking across a piece of British history. Right here …’ her index fingers pointed downwards ‘… this is the original Hong Kong. You Brits came here, to this very inlet, in the seventeenth century. It was just a small fishing village. Isn’t that amazing?’

I nodded – even though it wasn’t as amazing as the fact that some of the opening scenes of Bruce Lee’s
Enter the Dragon
had been shot here. When you’re young, information like that is important.

Her nose wrinkled beneath her sun-gigs as she saw the thin film of oil coating the water around the pontoon; a hundred different shades of blue and orange, swirling in the sunlight. ‘It’s hard to believe, sometimes, that Hong Kong means “fragrant harbour” …’

She brightened again. ‘Now we’ve got all this, just because you guys wanted to sell opium to the Chinese. A bit like you in Moscow, selling oil to the Arabs, am I right?’ She didn’t give me time to answer before heading on down the walkway. ‘I’m so glad the Chinese didn’t want to buy your opium. If you hadn’t gone to war, none of this would be here.’ The smile was right back in place. ‘So thank you, Nick.’

She slowed.

‘Here we are.’ She pointed to a very shiny blue boat with a guy in white jeans and a striped T-shirt mincing around by the wheel. ‘That’s
my
baby …’

It really was.
Baby
was stencilled across the stern in gold italic lettering. But it certainly wasn’t one of the smaller Sunseekers. This brand-new piece of machinery would have set her back at least 1.5 million sterling. We were a long way from
EastEnder
s territory.

The Manhattan 53’s roof covered the stern, shading a pair of white settees that faced each other across a slatted teak table anchored to the deck. An aluminium gangway seemed to have slid automatically from a little door in the stern. Waiting for us
at the end of the pontoon were two pairs of leather deck shoes.

She started to take off her heels. ‘It’s what we do on boats. If not, Bruce here will get upset about the decking.’

Bruce?
Enter the Dragon?
This was becoming a bit surreal.

‘Good morning, Bruce.’

He gave me a wave and a smile, then headed on board. I could see the outline of a mobile in the back pocket of his jeans. He was a little younger and shorter than Sophie. At first glance he could have passed as Chinese, but a closer look told me he was a pint-sized version of Genghis, but without the goatee. Wherever he came from, he hadn’t arrived in Hong Kong as a deckhand. His short hair was expensively cut and his jeans were designer. Even the blue-and-white T-shirt looked high-end.

As I fumbled with my Timberlands, Sophie draped the neatly folded blue-and-white-striped towels over the seats so we wouldn’t scald our arses. She was soon busy waffling away with Bruce and gesturing. I heard her mention Repulse Bay, which I knew was on the way to Stanley. Then, ‘Bruce, go and see if we’ve got some shades – I don’t think Nick has brought his.’

I stepped up on deck.

‘Please, Nick, make yourself comfortable.’

Bruce disappeared through the door to the left of the steering wheel and down into the cabin.

I sat under the shade on one of the settees. My shirt was glued to my back. I hoped it would sort itself out once we got moving.

Bruce laid out three sets of sun-gigs on the table for me to choose from. I picked up the Ted Bakers and instantly felt better. The engine kicked off without as much as a puff of smoke and hummed gently.

Sophie swung into perfect-hostess mode. ‘I never get tired of this. Now, what would you like to drink? We have beer, Coke, a very nice local lemon juice or, if you prefer, something stronger …’

‘The local brew sounds great, thank you.’

She turned to a cabinet under the pile of towels. ‘On its way. I absolutely love this stuff.’

While Bruce did things with ropes, she opened the fridge and
brought out a jug of cloudy liquid with ice and slices of lemon. Condensation immediately coated its sides. She set it on the table and returned to the cabinet for glasses as we eased away from the pontoon. Bruce was almost on tiptoe at the wheel, checking left and right for other vessels.

Sophie selected the folding chair at the head of the table, looking towards the stern, but turned it so she was sitting at forty-five degrees, knees towards me. She was making things more intimate; she knew exactly what she was doing, and she was doing it well.

She poured the juice as we worked our way past the pleasure boats and started to get in among rusty fishing smacks and a couple of old dredgers. Massive thirty-storey tower blocks lined the shore, cheek by jowl with the refineries. We carried on towards the sea, which I could begin to make out through the chicane between the two breakwaters.

Baby
glided into the ocean. The sun came out to celebrate and bounced across the dark-green water. Bruce still had his work cut out behind the wheel. Speedboats of all shapes and sizes zipped around us, and slalomed between a string of massive cargo ships whose decks were piled high with containers. Yet more garden gnomes from Shenzhen, I guessed, en route for the world’s pound-, dollar-, rouble- and euro-shops to seek their fortune.

My shirt unglued itself and Sophie’s hair started to jump about as Bruce opened the throttle. I drank my lemonade and admired the lush green islands of the South China Sea. Like so many of the places I’d visited while I was in the army – and in the years since – I’d been to quite a number of them, but never actually given them a second glance. Half the time, I hadn’t really wanted to. I’d needed to get there, get the job done and get out. Now there was time to soak it all in, I tried to remember if I’d ever really stopped and looked at the scenery when I was at Stanley, which was now just round the corner.

After the big build-up, Sophie seemed less interested in the view than in which direction her knees were pointing.

‘So, Nick, why don’t you tell me your story? The more I know, the easier it will be to find exactly what you need.’

‘Well …’ I took a breath, then trotted out the story I’d given Kitty. ‘But all that’s on hold, as far as she’s concerned. She doesn’t know I’m here to search for a donor. She doesn’t want one. She
thinks I’m away on business. Look, Sophie …’ I leaned closer, so she could feel my sincerity as well as see it. ‘Back home there’s a four-year wait just to get on the transplant list – and she disagrees with jumping any queue, for anything. She says we’d be part of a system that’s making Russia an even worse place to live in than it was during the old days.’

Sophie nodded slowly as I poured out more of my heart for her to examine.

‘So then I suggested we look at some other options, maybe go to Turkey or South America to find a donor. But her answer was still no. She’s frightened, I guess, not only for her own safety – the possibility of contamination – but for the donor’s too. We’ve both done our research …’

I waited to see her reaction, but there wasn’t one.

‘Let’s be clear, Sophie, I know what I want is illegal. I don’t care about that – I care about Anna. Equally, I don’t want some Chinese Death Row prisoner’s kidney stuck into her, even if she does agree – who’s to know what diseases it might carry? I know that I can get a designer kidney here, and I know that I can afford it.

‘What I want is a Hispanic organ – it’s partly a religious thing – from a living female donor. I want to meet the donor to know she has not been coerced, and of course I want the surgery to be the safest there is. When I go back to Moscow I want every base covered, so the only answer Anna can give me is yes. I don’t care about anything else. Can you do that for me?’

Sophie was totally absorbed, as if I was revealing the secret of the universe. ‘Thank you for being so candid. I can assure you, we will be able to cover every single one of your bases.’ She sat back and crossed her legs. ‘My husband died from CKD eight years ago. He suffered for far too long while we tried to find a donor. I understand your heartache. I understand the fear, the anger, the helplessness. That’s the reason I started my own matching service. I don’t want anyone else to go through that – ever.’

I nodded.

‘I have a wide selection of donors, and brand-new world-class surgical facilities. All the donors are healthy, considerate people,
and well looked after. They’re paid, of course, but they
care
. I think I may already have a number of possibles for Anna …’

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward again. ‘Are you married?’

I needed to keep the story as close to the truth as possible.

‘We live together. I met her when I first moved to Moscow. She’s Russian – from Cuban parents. It’s not unusual there.’

‘Do you have any children?’

I managed to do nothing more than shake my head. ‘We’re waiting until we get married. She’s a good Catholic girl.’

Sophie’s teeth flashed. ‘How old is she?’