A Million Reasons

by Mark David Abbott

  John thought back over the meeting and remembered the Chinese man who had been sitting with Peter. He had definitely seemed disturbed when he took the call, and there was something familiar about the guy as if John had seen him before somewhere.

  He opened the web browser on his phone and typed in ‘Peter Croft.’ Selecting images, he scrolled through the photos—Peter being interviewed, with his wife at a charity function, on his yacht or skiing in Europe. He had looked through about ten photos when one caught his eye—a group of businessmen in suits at a cocktail party, each of them holding a champagne glass and smiling for the camera. Peter stood on the left, his glass held high as if saying cheers. In the middle stood an elderly Chinese man in a dark suit and a white shirt, the top button undone. On the right stood the man from this evening’s meeting. John looked at the caption: Peter Croft, Ronald Yu, and David Yu at the Hong Kong Chamber of Commerce Annual General Meeting.

  John took another sip of his drink and typed David Yu into the search bar.

  David Yu, forty-seven-year-old son of Ronald Yu, the Chairman and Founder of Golden Far East Ltd.

  John clicked on another article and scanned through it. David Yu was the sole heir to the fortune his father, Ronald Yu, had built from scratch after moving to Hong Kong from Guangzhou fifty years ago with nothing but the shirt on his back. His company had investments in transportation, shipping, and real estate, and he had become one of Hong Kong’s wealthiest businessmen.

  David was educated at King George V School at the same time as Peter Croft and had gone on to Harvard Business School, his admission no doubt helped in no small part by a generous endowment from his father. Upon his return to Hong Kong, he had dabbled in several businesses with moderate success, some of which had to be bailed out by his father. He was a regular in the casinos in Macau, and despite his less than attractive appearance, often had a glamorous young lady on his arm. He too had a collection of exotic cars, and one of his collection of Ferraris was often spotted outside Hong Kong’s restaurants and bars in the evenings.

  John’s gut told him there was something not right about David Yu. He must be connected, but he couldn’t yet figure out how. And if he was connected, why had he chosen John? He couldn’t possibly know what John had done before. There were still too many questions.

  15

  Wednesday

  John didn’t sleep well that night, tossing and turning, his mind churning back and forth over the mess he was in. Eventually, at five a.m., he gave up the fight and got up. After a strong cup of coffee, he pulled on his running gear and went for a run, striding down the hill away from his apartment building. He took the longer route, needing the time to clear his head, to get the blood pumping through his veins. There weren’t many other people awake, few lights on in the darkened buildings nearby. A couple of early morning joggers and dog walkers were out, but otherwise, the streets were quiet. The sun was yet to climb above the hills in east Kowloon, but its first rays were starting to push back the darkness. Reaching the end of Discovery Bay near the Marina Club, he doubled back and took a right turn along the beachfront. The surface of Victoria Harbour was smooth as glass, and the early morning sun’s rays were turning the water shades of orange. A lone Chinese lady practiced tai chi on the beach, her movements calm and fluid. John turned back inland and headed up the hill before taking the right turn onto Seabee Lane. He felt good—the sleepiness dispelled with the exercise-induced endorphins, his mind clear again. He had yet to come up with a solution or even an idea of what step to take next, but he felt better, ready to take on the world. He remembered when he had last been in this situation—that time back in Bangalore. Then he had four people to kill, revenge for Charlottes’s murder. Even then, he had no idea how to proceed, but events had turned in his favor and opportunities had presented themselves. He was confident it would happen again—he just had to be ready. After sprinting the last five hundred meters, he walked around the garden at the foot of the building, catching his breath and trying to cool down.

  Back upstairs in his apartment, after showering and changing, he thought back to the previous evening. John was convinced David Yu had been disturbed when he saw John, and that made little sense unless he was involved. A thought struck John, and he grabbed his laptop from the dining table, opening the web browser and typing in the name of Peter’s company. Once the results came up, he clicked through to the website for Pegasus Land and looked at the options available on the homepage. He selected the ‘About’ tab and scanned the page. There was a history of the company and the usual meaningless platitudes about how Pegasus Land was striving for a better future for the citizens of Hong Kong by developing better buildings. That wasn’t what John was looking for. He moved the cursor to the right and clicked on a link that read ‘Leadership.’ Bingo! Peter’s name was at the top as Chairman and CEO, but it was the name underneath that interested John—David Yu, Managing Director. John sat back in his chair and rubbed his face. He stared blankly out the window at the hillside as his mind raced.

  So, he had found the connection, but why was he nervous about seeing John at the bar? Was he the one who wanted Peter killed? If so, what did he stand to gain?

  John needed to find out more. Perhaps he should follow David? He googled David and spent time scanning through the results. One headline from a few years ago caught his eye: David Yu pays record price for a house on the Peak

  Well, if nothing else, John now knew where David lived. He looked at his watch. It was still early, so he grabbed a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses and headed out the door. Once out on the street, he looked left and right, looking for any signs of a watcher. Two men in multi-colored lycra whizzed past on expensive road bikes. At the bus stop, a line of commuters waited, but none paid him any attention, all of them staring at their phone screens. A movement near the trees on the opposite side of the road caught his eye, and he looked closer, but it was only a dog walker cleaning up after one of the three dogs she held on a leash. Weighing his transport options, he decided on taking the bus to the railway station. He figured it would be easier to lose a tail on the train if someone was following him. Once on board, he scanned the carriage but couldn’t see any sign of his watcher from the day before or anyone else taking undue interest in him. The train pulled into the interchange at Lai King station, and John watched as a large portion of commuters disembarked to switch lines. Just as the doors started beeping, announcing their imminent closure, John leaped from the carriage onto the platform, the doors closing behind him. He looked up and down the platform as the train departed, but he was alone, no-one got off with him. He pulled on the baseball cap and donned his sunglasses before moving down the platform a little way and waited for the next train. It came just five minutes later, and he rode it all the way to Hong Kong Station, hoping his rudimentary disguise would work.

  From Hong Kong Station, he took the underground passageway to Central Station and caught a train to Admiralty where he got off, crossed over to the other platform, immediately catching a train back to Central. He watched his fellow passengers in the reflection of the windows but was confident no-one was following him.

  Exiting Central Station, he climbed the steps to the Landmark building, then walked outside to the taxi rank. He hailed the first taxi in the queue and gave the driver the address of a house on the same street as David Yu’s.

  16

  David Yu’s house was set high on the southern slope of The Peak, home to Hong Kong’s super-rich. The taxi drove past the house, and John observed the property from the passenger window. High walls topped with electric wire surrounded the house, and cameras were positioned at each corner. A security guard stood outside the double height steel gate, his eyes following the taxi as it passed.

  About a hundred meters farther, just after a curve in the road, John asked the taxi driver to stop and got out. He waited as the taxi drove off, then crossed the road and sat down at a bus stop where he could look back down the road and observe the ho
use without attracting suspicion. Thick jungle lined the street on both sides, and several Banyan trees between the bus stop and David’s house further shielded him from direct view. Traffic was light and pedestrians non-existent. John didn’t want to stand out, so he pulled out his phone and pretended to check messages while keeping one eye on the house. It was now around nine a.m., and John hoped he wouldn’t have to wait for too long, guessing David Yu would head into his office before too late in the morning. Half an hour passed before he saw activity by the gate. The security guard looked up and down the street, then pressed his earpiece and muttered something into his sleeve before pressing a button beside the gate. The gate slid open, and a silver and black Rolls Royce Phantom pulled out, checked for oncoming traffic, then slipped out onto the road. John could just make out David sitting in the back seat, looking at his phone.

  John looked around for a taxi and spotted one coming down the hill toward him. He waved but saw it was already occupied. Shit, shit! John didn’t want to lose the Rolls Royce. He had no other way of following the car except by taxi. He paced back and forth, then caught sight of another red taxi heading his way. He waved frantically, and as soon as it pulled over, he jumped in and instructed the driver to head downhill. The Rolls had disappeared from sight, but there was only one road down the hill, and he hoped he would pick it up before it had gone too far. Sure enough, they caught up with the car as it paused at a junction before merging onto Peak Road. John wasn’t too worried about keeping a distance, Hong Kong’s red taxis were everywhere, and one following behind wouldn’t even be noticed. Both vehicles continued along Peak Road as it followed the contours of the slope, switching back and forth on itself as it wound its way down the hill, past huge gated villas and luxurious apartment buildings. As they neared the intersection with Guildford Road, John heard honking from behind him. He turned to look through the rear window and spotted a black Mercedes G-Wagen closing at high speed, headlights flashing. The taxi driver had seen it too and slowed, pulling to one side to let it pass. The SUV overtook them, then slammed on the brakes, swerving in front of the taxi, blocking its way as the Rolls disappeared around the next bend. The rear passenger doors opened, and two hard-faced Chinese men jumped out, dressed in black jeans and t-shirts, lurid tattoos running down their exposed forearms. One man wrenched open the driver’s door and hauled the driver out, pinning him to the side of the car, gripping him by the throat. He screamed in Cantonese as the driver protested and shook his head. John sat stunned, unsure what was happening until he saw the other man move around the side of the car to his door. Shit! He didn’t know what they wanted, but he wasn’t about to find out. He tried locking the door on his side but couldn’t find the lock. John pulled on the door handle to prevent it being opened, but the man outside was strong and had the benefit of leverage. John gave up, let go of the door handle and slid across the seat to the other side. The Chinese man grabbed him by the ankle and pulled. John kicked out with his free leg, catching him hard on the wrist. He grunted, and his grip loosened. Cursing, he reached in again with both hands but couldn’t get a grip as John kicked out. John fell backward as the door behind him opened, and the other man, having released the driver, grabbed him by the hair and hauled him out of the car, throwing him onto the road. He kicked John in the stomach, and John gasped in pain, curling into a fetal position to protect himself. Both men kicked him, shouting something in Cantonese. John couldn't understand and tried to make himself as small as possible, curling tight to protect his midsection and his head.

  “Stop, stop,” he cried out, but the blows continued. He felt a pair of hands grab the back of his shirt, dragging him to his feet, throwing him against the side of the taxi.

  Thug Number 1 held him by the throat and glared at John, his face just inches away. “Why you follow?”

  “I’m not following anyone,” John protested.

  “You follow. We see you outside the house! You stop now! We see you again, we kill you.”

  He released John’s throat, and before John could react, punched him hard in the stomach. John doubled over and dropped to his knees, retching onto the tarmac. Thug Number 2 put his foot against John’s back and pushed him over, onto the ground. John felt hands pulling his wallet out from his back pocket. He turned to protest and watched as Thug 2 rifled through it and removed his Hong Kong Identity Card. He passed it to Thug 1 who removed his phone from his pocket and took a photo of the ID card, then threw it down beside John's head.

  “Tee seen gweilo,” he cleared his throat and spat on the ground in front of John. “Crazy white guy.” Both men turned and walked toward the SUV. As they passed the taxi driver, Thug 2 feinted a punch and laughed as the driver ducked. Without looking back, they climbed into the SUV and sped away with a screech of tires.

  The taxi driver rushed to John’s side and helped him to his feet.

  “Very bad men,” he said. “Sun Yee On.”

  John winced as he stood up, pain radiating through his body. “What does that mean?”

  The driver shook his head as he dusted off John’s shirt. “Triad. Be careful.”

  17

  John needed to think and clean himself up. He didn’t know where else to go, so he asked the taxi driver to drop him off outside Thapa’s coffee shop. The taxi driver refused to take any money from him, once again exhorting him to be careful.

  John looked up and down the street to see if anyone was watching him, then climbed the steps that led to Thapa’s cafe and pushed the door open.

  “Good morning, John,” Thapa called out, a welcoming smile on his face which disappeared as soon as he took a good look at John.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I got out of the wrong side of the bed. Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure, my friend, the door at the back there.”

  John walked to the back, down a small corridor stacked with boxes of coffee supplies, and pushed open the door at the rear. Latching the door behind him, he turned on the tap and looked in the mirror. His face didn’t look too bad—his lower lip was cut, the blood drying into a scab, traces of dirt smudged his cheeks and forehead, and his hair needed tidying. But when he lifted his shirt, he winced. Bruises covered his body, the skin turning shades of green and purple. These guys had been clever. They had wanted to send a message but not have the effects on display for all to see. John splashed water on his face and tamed his hair before gingerly tucking his shirt back in. It wasn’t the first time someone had beaten him up, and he knew from experience, the bruises would fade with time. But it was about time he learned how to defend himself. He checked his appearance once more in the mirror, then unlatching the door, walked back out into the cafe.

  “Here you go, John, on the house.” Thapa handed him a mug of black coffee and turned to the girl working beside him.

  “Celia, look after the counter for me.” Celia smiled and nodded.

  Thapa wiped his hands on a cloth and walked around the counter to join John at the table he had found in the corner.

  “Now, do you want to tell me what happened?”

  John looked around the small cafe. Apart from Celia and a customer paying for their coffee, the cafe was empty. John waited until the customer left, and Celia busied herself cleaning the coffee machine. He took a deep breath and turned to Thapa who was sitting patiently, watching his face.

  “A couple of guys decided they didn’t like the look of me.”

  “Where did it happen? Did you call the police?”

  “No, I didn’t, but it doesn’t matter. I can look after myself. It’s not the first time.”

  “Okay. If you say so.” Thapa regarded him doubtfully. “But let me know if I can help with anything.”

  Despite striking up a friendship with Thapa over the past year, John still didn’t know how much he could trust him. He seemed like a decent guy, but John wasn’t sure how much he should share. He took a sip on his coffee, wrestling with the decision. Thapa looked back calmly, giving him ti
me. John put the coffee mug down on the table and looked directly at Thapa.

  “Have you heard of Sun Yee On?”

  Thapa raised an eyebrow. “What have you got yourself into?”

  “Oh, nothing, just something someone said.”

  Thapa nodded, not convinced. “Sun Yee On is a Triad. Do you know what Triads are, John?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Very bad people. They run all sorts of illegal activities here on the Island and in Kowloon. They don’t mess around.” Thapa paused, studying John’s face. “I think there is something you’re not telling me, John.” It was a statement, not a question. John looked down at his coffee, not answering.

  “John, if you are involved in any way with these people, you have to be very careful because they will think nothing of killing you if you get on their wrong side. I know, I grew up with these guys in Kowloon. They don’t mess around. They rule by fear and can never show the slightest sign of weakness.”

  John looked up and regarded Thapa for a moment, thinking over what he had just said.

  “Are you still in touch with any of them?”

  Thapa looked back, the cogs and wheels in his mind visibly turning. He looked over at Celia, busy washing the coffee cups. He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

  “I know some people, John, in a rival Triad, but you really shouldn’t get involved with any of them. Stay away from these people.”

  John nodded and looked over Thapa’s shoulder, toward the street. People walked past the window, caught up in their mundane lives of emails, meetings, and office politics. John took a deep breath and looked back at Thapa.

  “I need your help, Thapa. I am in big trouble.”