The Code War (55 page)

A half recollection of an
overheard conversation between great-aunts stirred in Nancy's
memory. She was playing in a corridor, colouring in some picture
books when voices were suddenly hushed and something unusual,
almost shameful was hinted at. A Chinese ancestor in Russia? An
oriental shiksa among her strict Jewish forebears?

Fatty had finished his history. No need
right now for the rest of the story, he said, his purpose was to
set the scene for tonight's ceremony.

Fatty Lo and Frenchy now pulled out red
bands from their inside pockets and put them around their
heads.

'We are both Red Brothers,' explained
Fatty. 'Nancy, in the time you have been with us, you have
impressed all the brothers with your hard work, skill and above
all, your flair for leadership. Mya Ling was chosen by the great Li
to be an important commander of our order at a time of change in
China.' He picked up the red urn with both hands and held it high.
'In this urn are kept Mya Ling's precious ashes and we believe her
spirit is with us in this room right now, leading us on to ever
greater success.'

With great care he replaced the urn on
the table. 'Now, new challenges and new markets are opening up for
us outside of Hong Kong and we believe you have the capability to
help us expand and seize those markets. This is indeed another time
of change. Nancy, we invite you to take up a high rank in our
organisation.'

Fatty produced another red band
and held it out across the table to Nancy with both hands. An
officer took her wine glass as she rose and walked towards
him.

'You are initiated into Brother at the
highest possible level.' He placed the band around her head.
'Behold Nancy, you are now our Red Sister.'

As all twelve men broke into spontaneous
applause and cheering, Nancy placed her hands on the sides of the
red urn. She picked it up and held it in front of her at eye level.
The urn was mainly of porcelain with small embossed red panels
separated by recessed lines of plain white. One of the embossed
panels contained a tiny rectangular mirror, barely two centimetres
on its longest side. Something about the miniature mirror caught
and held Nancy's eye. She already knew what she would see and so
there was no surprise when the silvered glass showed her a small
but perfectly formed red r in its centre. The final letter in the
code. But what happened next did surprise her. The r faded and was
replaced by

Nancy

Red Sister

spelt out in elegant fine
lettering. A wave of powerful emotions entered her head as if they
had been poured over her from a bottomless urn. Nancy felt a
powerful presence which she was sure could only be that of Mya
Ling. Her ears tingled and she now understood who had worn the jade
earrings before and how Great Uncle Shai had come across
them.

Shai.

Roots.

The presence hovered
i
n front of her, unseen, and made as if
to enter her head. Then it disappeared and Nancy felt a glow of
exultation coming from within.

The promise begun in the shower room of
the holiday apartment in Eilat months before was complete. The
incremental prophecy had come true. Whoever or whatever had laid
the breadcrumb trail of letters in front of her had made no
mistake. Nancy was Red Sister.

And as the cheering gangsters continued
to shake her hand and congratulate her, Nancy felt an elation she
had not expected. Nancy the trainee travel agent who was the butt
of everyone's office jokes was now exalted, honoured and respected
by people who mattered.

She would be wealthy beyond the wildest
dreams of the directors of Ealing Travel. Through the throng of
silken-robed mobsters around her Nancy felt a connection with Mya
Ling's ashes that she could only describe as unworldly. She could
feel confidence, ambition and power surge through her and she knew
that she held the world in her hands.

People were like puppets and she
understood how to pull their strings. Money-chasing was for
weaklings, there was no victory in wealth. But power, that was the
delight of the gods, the desire that satisfied, the drug that never
failed. Power over people, corporations and governments ran through
her like a lightning bolt. The corners of Nancy's mouth turned
upwards. She looked down at the celebrating men about her, the
pawns and rooks of her new empire. She was queen and in the game of
chess stretched out in front of her, there was no need for kings.
She only had to choose and it would all be hers.

Inferno, Human
Ancestor Research and Manipulation HQ

'Did it take? Hideki, did it work? Is
Nancy completely ours?' Bezejel was up and down on the balls of her
feet, staring at the neon.

'We know very soon,' came the phlegmatic
reply. 'First appearance is good. I am hopeful. But we will know
her by her actions, not by the look on her face.'

'She is Red Sister,' said Bezejel,
still excited. 'Nancy is Red Sister. Got me tingling all over. She
and I have so much in common. I can't wait till she gets to Inferno
and I've despatched her to Tyrant's Fall. I'll go and watch her
every day. She'll be a marvel to see, a bigger crowd-puller than
the entire twentieth century.'

Gog and Magog were enjoying her
exuberance. They joined in the laughter. It was the first time
anyone had heard them make any sound.

'Enjoy the fun, you two. Why not?'
Bezejel said with surprising warmth. 'And when you've finished, go
and find me three satyrs each and deliver them to my quarters. One
every hour for the next six hours. It's time to
celebrate.'

Halfway
Island

'I hope you have a positive reply for me
this time, Gus, I have things to do.' The Leader was making a poor
job of playing down his excitement.

'The Lamb
agrees to your proposal.'

'Does he indeed?' The Leader raised his
eyes to meet Augustine's. 'He has agreed to everything I
asked?'

'I have said. He agrees.'

'Well then, I suppose we'd better stop
plucking Jabez's feathers out with tweezers and burning them in tar
in front of his eyes. Seems that he may be going home after
all.'

'Jabez will be coming home and he'd
better be unharmed. Heaven will not leave an angel behind.'

'Sweet.'

'You know that there will be
repercussions after this don't you? The Creator will be angry at
what you have done to the Lamb.'

'Oh spare me, Gus. When has the
Creator ever liked me? As for your threats about my days being
numbered, the number of days left to me was decided and written
down in that tedious Book of yours a long time ago. This little
victory won't change things a morsel.'

As he turned away he couldn't resist
some sarcasm.

'But the Lamb's genuflection to
me
will brighten up everyone's day in
Inferno. So that's worthwhile isn't it? Now, bye, bye messenger
boy. Go and tramp your way home. Or should I say, flop on the bus,
Gus?'

He turned around to his female
bodyguard. 'Let's go, ladies. Must get back to watch Match of the
Day live in Cambodia. There's a huge event taking place in the
football stadium in the capital.'

He turned back to Augustine. 'A hundred
plucky communist cadres armed only with machetes and pliers are
taking on five thousand fierce villagers tied by the wrists to
poles above their heads. Their families are being bussed in to
watch. That's the sort of match I like.'

Ho Man Tin Street,
Kowloon

Dan Kelly, driv
ing home from work, thought about his meeting with the
English woman in the restaurant. There was something about her,
something mysterious, something deeply attractive. Why hadn't he
found out her name or where she worked? Would he ever meet her
again? There was something so special about her. He would go back
to that restaurant and haunt it every lunchtime until she turned up
there again.

It was late October and the days
were a lot cooler now, almost European. The short Hong Kong Autumn
had breezed in and citizens wore padded jackets with sewn-in white
collars over their free 'Shek Kip Mei Cotton and Garment Factory'
or 'East Kowloon Gas & Engineering Co' tee-shirts.

Ho Man Tin Street
was busy. The traffic piled up behind
double-parked delivery trucks and impulse shoppers, dashing out of
their cars to buy garlic and storm umbrellas.

Dan
slowed for a public light bus that had stopped in front of
him. It was picking up a solitary passenger. There was an argument
over the fare. His door opened and a knife appeared, its blade
against his ribs. 'Come with us, mister, quickly, no time to
waste.' The blade pressed harder, beginning to penetrate, as if the
speaker needed to reinforce his point. Don't even think about it,
said his eyes.

'What the bloody hell…I'm a police
inspector.' But the protest was expected and a firm hand grasped
his arm, pulling him from the vehicle. Dan stepped into the road as
the abductor laid a cloth over the knife, concealing it. Another
man stepped forward from the back of the car and slapped Dan's hips
up and down. He located the revolver, unclipped the retaining strap
and slipped the gun from its holster. One step to the already-open
door of a stationary car facing the other way, a push into the back
seat and the job was done.

Doors closed. Dan's own Peugeot moved
away first, the man who'd taken his gun driving it. A hood came
down over his head. His upper body was pushed onto the legs of the
man beside him. The kidnapping had taken 3-4 seconds.

Slick.

Nothing much was happening now.
No-one spoke. The car accelerat
ed
smoothly through the gears. An indicator clicked and the car slowed
briefly then turned left. Heading for Yaumati then.

'What's going on?' No reply.

'What do you want?' No reply.

Someone moved their foot. A cigarette
was tapped on a packet and the wheel of a lighter grated against a
flint. Cheapskates. The draw of smoke was so calm it could have
been a student sucking his teeth over a tricky algebra
question.

The knife was still
pressing
into Dan's ribs. He smelt oil,
tobacco, oranges. His side hurt where he was bent over. He tried to
ease himself and the knife dug deeper.

'I have to move,' he shouted. A hand
came down over his head and he shifted his body slightly. Some
relief. His arms were pulled behind him and tied at the wrist.

Who could this be? Had they
mistaken him for someone else? Why him? Oh! You're kidding.
Brother. Surely not. Are they really that angry at him for nabbing
Nescafé Mao?

The car speeded and slowed alternately
through heavy traffic. Pedestrians chattered close by. Bus drivers
pulled back their sliding quarter lights and swore. Scaffolding
clanged. After thirty minutes the car stopped and the handbrake
rhino-burped on.

'Keh-lee. Out.'

They knew his name. No mistake then. It
was really him they were after. Dan tripped his way out of the car.
He was thirsty and scared. Hands on either side led him over broken
concrete, ropes, bits of metal - chains? - and a steel door sill.
Then the lights went out completely. Must have gone indoors, into
the dark.

Who would pay a ransom for him? The
police force? Hardly. There would be a furore nonetheless. No-one
kidnapped a police inspector in Hong Kong and got away with it.
Unless they thought they could get away with it. Oh God, I don't
want to die. Far from home and no-one will know where my grave is
or what happened to me. I'll never see Mum or Dad or Deirdre again.
I'll never see Liverpool beat Everton again.

Dan was led through an echoey
passage with two right hand corners along its length. Then up a
metal staircase with two U-turns in it onto a landing. Then they
bent him low and ushered him onto a metal platform. It swayed a
little. Why's that? His arms, already tied behind him, were now
tied to a steel pole in the middle of the platform.

'I need some water. I'm thirsty,' he
shouted.

His kidnappers stopped moving for a
moment. Were they considering his demand or were they about to beat
him?

'Sure Keh-lee,' said one of them. 'I get
you water. Is that your last request?'

Fatty Lo's Office,
Yaumati, Kowloon

'Frenchy and I will run Brother
together. That was the agreement we came to after reviewing the
origins of our society. We must work like brothers, not like greedy
corporations that leave all decision-making to one person.'

Fatty was in decisive form again. His
position as leader - or co-leader - had been shored up by Nancy's
performance in front of Golden Horse. The stature and authority she
revealed on that tense occasion demonstrated to everyone that Fatty
was a good judge of character and talent after all.

Nancy regarded Fatty intently.
They were almost equals now and she had nothing to fear from him.
She sat cross-legged on the sofa in her favourite electric blue
cheung-sam, her six-pointed star lying on top of the dress, its
jade inlay neatly setting off the fabric's colour.

'Chopper Kwok, however, has gone
off in a sulk.' Fatty was enjoying sharing his insights with his
young female lieutenant. 'It's best to leave him like this when
he's angry. Plus as you already know, one of his top men, Nescafé
Mao was arrested in Wong Tai Sin with a huge load of heroin. Utter
foolishness. Brother's lawyers will help him, of course, but
Chopper is upset with him. The good thing about it all is that
Chopper has lost his shot at becoming leader. The rumours of his
bad temper frighten every 49 and every officer. They can see that
he's just not stable enough to be leader.'