He opened the door, climbed out, and looked at his watch as the Mercedes glided silently away. There was still another twenty minutes before the next ferry, so he walked along the footpath to a street vendor and bought a bottle of water. He twisted off the cap and took a long pull on the bottle. He felt uneasy, a prickling at the base of his neck as if he was being watched. He looked around at the passersby, but no-one seemed to pay him any attention. He glanced back at the street vendor, an elderly man, but he was busy fiddling with the knob on his transistor radio, trying to find a station. John took another sip from his bottle, but the feeling remained. He raised his vision, scanning further afield. Everyone looked normal as if they belonged, all busy going about their daily routines. A taxi pulled up in front of the taxi rank, and John watched as a young mother struggled to get out with her two young children and remove a push-chair from the trunk of the taxi. John went to help her. When he had finished, he turned to go back to the ferry pier and noticed the black Mercedes G-Wagen idling at the curb at the rear of the taxi rank. He couldn’t see inside, the windows were tinted black, but he wasn't about to hang around. He headed for the ferry.
25
Friday
She smiled at him and held out her hand, her eyes sparkling, and his heart leaped as he drank in her beauty. He reached out to take her hand, but his fingers couldn’t quite reach. He stretched forward, but for some reason, the gap wouldn’t close. He tried harder as a look of alarm filled her face. “John,” she cried, and she started receding, her hand moving further from his. A man appeared behind her, his face set in a cruel sneer. He laughed at John, licked his lips, then grabbed her by the hair and pulled her backward. “John, John, help me…” she pleaded. The man dragged her into the darkness. “Wait, Charlotte, wait,” John cried out until she disappeared from sight.
John woke with a start, his heart hammering in his chest, the bedsheets soaked. It took a moment for him to realize where he was. He rolled over and looked at his watch on the bedside table. Five a.m. The nightmares were becoming more frequent again. This was the second one this week. He pushed himself up and hung his legs over the side of the bed, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees. It had been a long night of fitful sleep. The events of the last few days had raced around in his head, dancing back and forth, his subconscious mind trying to make sense of things. Then in the early hours, once he had finally dropped off to sleep, he had been revisited by his nightmare. There was little point in trying to sleep again, so John resigned himself to a day ahead fueled by coffee.
John rubbed his face and pushed the hair back from his eyes. He padded across to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, then walked to the kitchen to make coffee. He needed to be alert and had some serious thinking to do if he was going to get out of this mess.
While the coffee brewed, he turned on his phone, and it buzzed almost immediately with a message. John reluctantly glanced at the screen.
Peter is still alive. It’s him or you. Make your choice. You don’t have much time left.
John threw the phone onto the kitchen counter and ran his hands through his hair. He had to do something, think of something. If he didn’t, he would end up dead himself.
He poured himself a mug of coffee and took a sip as he stared out at the hillside behind the apartment building. He was due to meet Peter at nine a.m., so he had time for a run. He always got his best ideas when he was running, perhaps it would help today.
At the back of his building, a path led straight up the hillside to the ridgeline that ran North to South behind Discovery Bay. It was a steep climb, the path rocky and overgrown, the gradient challenging and guaranteed to make his muscles burn, but the exertion and the pain would clear his mind, it always did. He started slowly, the bruising on his waist and torso hurting with the movement and the deep breathing. It took fifteen minutes to reach the first ridgeline. He paused to catch his breath, his chest heaving, his legs burning with the lactic acid buildup. The ridge offered panoramic views toward Hong Kong Island in the East, and to the West, the view opened out over the flight path toward Chep Lap Kok Airport, a plane just now making its final approach. The sea breeze dried the sweat from his body, and once he had regained his normal breathing, he set off again, following the ridgeline up toward his destination, Tiger’s Head.
At the next false summit, his legs on fire, sweat running down his forehead and stinging his eyes, he stopped and looked around. In the distance, Victoria Peak on Hong Kong Island was shrouded in clouds as were the upper levels of the one-hundred-eighteen-story ICC building across the harbor on the Kowloon reclamation. The long white trail of a ferry’s wake curved across the harbor. Closer to hand, a jungle fowl called from the densely forested hillside, and behind him, to the west, another plane made its final approach into Hong Kong airport. John sucked in fresh air and shook the pain out of his calves.
He loved it up here. Just minutes from his home, he was surrounded by nature, not another person to be seen. This was a side of Hong Kong tourists rarely saw and one he loved. He felt calmer now, more at peace, the stress and tension of the last week melting away. Everything was going to be alright. He knew it. A solution would come to him by the time he reached the top of the climb. He took a deep breath, looked up toward the next false summit, and pushed on.
Forty minutes later, he was at the trig point on top of Tiger’s Head. Below him, in a three-hundred-sixty-degree arc, lay a magnificent view—the manicured greens of the Discovery Bay Golf Club, and further below, the towers of the various residential communities that made up Discovery Bay. Far off in the mottled green and blue sea lay the islands of Peng Chau, Cheung Chau, and in the distance, the triple smokestacks of the power station on Lamma Island. He could see all the way down to Hong Kong Island, the towers of Central District faintly outlined in the heat haze. The rapidly moving hydrofoil of the Hong Kong Macau Ferry Service crossed paths with the equally rapid Turbojet in the straits below. He turned and looked north to where the one-hundred-fifteen-story tower of Shenzhen’s Ping An Finance Centre across the border in China could just be made out.
The breeze at this height was stronger and cooling. Moving from the trig point to the large flat face of a rock, he squatted down, bringing respite to his trembling quads. It was a glorious view, a sight few bothered to climb to enjoy, content instead with roaming the air-conditioned shopping malls down below.
But life was about more than that—John’s experiences in India had taught him to value every second, to extract the most out of every day. He had lost his way for a while, his job sucking the life force from his existence, but up here, he felt alive again, filled with the glories of the world. He knew what he had to do now.
Whatever was decided in the meeting with Peter and Joseph this morning, he would take control. It was his life, his destiny, and there was no way he was going to let someone else decide the outcome. Just as he had done before, in that dark time in Bangalore when all had seemed lost, when the one thing he valued most was cruelly taken from him, he would take control and turn things to his advantage. No-one was going to get the better of him. He was going to get himself out of this mess and do all he could to keep the money. That was for sure.
26
John walked up the ferry gangplank and spotted the sleek black S Class Mercedes waiting by the curb. Peter’s driver Samuel was standing by the car, looking smart in black pants and a white polo shirt with the Pegasus Land logo embroidered on the front. He smiled at John and waved, opening the rear door as John approached.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Samuel. How are you?”
“I’m fine, sir. Thank you. Mr. Croft is waiting for you at home.”
“Thank you.” John slid onto the back seat and settled into the luxurious leather, stretching out his legs, still weary from the early morning climb. A crisp unread copy of that morning’s South China Morning Post lay on the armrest next to a chilled bottle of mineral water. John grinned as Sa
muel walked around to the driver’s seat. Life really was better when you had money.
Despite the fitful night’s sleep, John felt fresh after his run and a pot of coffee. He sat back and watched the scenery and thought about his situation. Bad luck seemed to have a way of following him around, but he needed to find the silver lining to his cloud. If with Peter’s help, he could entrap David Yu, it would solve his immediate problems. However, he wasn’t sure he would get to keep the money. The police would probably seize it as evidence so he would have to go back to his shitty job—if they would take him back. It was the last thing he wanted, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. He had been in worse situations before and had come out on top. He had to let things run their course and make the most out of it.
The car pulled up in front of Peter’s entrance, and John stepped out and looked around. The garage doors were open, and John paused for another look at the beautiful Porsches parked inside. One day… if he survived the next few days. He took a deep breath and walked toward the front door.
Imelda opened the door and guided him toward the living room. John stood by the expansive windows, staring out at the view. Thunderclouds were rolling in from the East, bathing the skylines of Hong Kong Island and Kowloon in hues of grey, the top of the ICC tower obscured by clouds.
“Good morning, John.”
John turned and smiled at Peter who stood by the kitchen door in workout clothes, his shirt stuck to his chest with sweat, a white hand towel around his neck.
“Good morning, Peter, how are you?”
“Great, nothing beats starting the day with a morning workout. Have you eaten? Come and have some breakfast.”
“Thanks, that would be great.”
John followed him into the kitchen, and they sat down at the large kitchen island.
Imelda turned and smiled, “Bacon and eggs, sir?”
“Yes, please.”
She placed two steaming mugs of black coffee in front of John and Peter and busied herself at the stove.
The smell of frying bacon filled the air, and John looked over at Peter who was checking his phone with a frown. He noticed John watching and clicked off the screen and turned the phone face down on the counter.
“Sorry John, a bad habit, I know.”
“Everything alright?”
“Oh yes, just a problem at one of our development sites, but nothing that can't wait. Did you sleep okay?”
“Nothing coffee won’t fix.”
“Ha, yes, I can’t function without the stuff.”
Imelda slid a plate of bacon and eggs in front of John.
Peter nodded at the plate, “Enjoy your breakfast. Joseph will be here any moment. We will work out the plans for our meeting tomorrow once you’ve eaten.”
John took a sip of his coffee and picked up his knife and fork.
“John, please excuse me, I’ll just make a couple of calls while you’re eating. Might as well sort this site issue out now so we can concentrate on our meeting.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Peter picked up his phone and his coffee and walked out.
John turned his attention to his plate. The bacon was just how he liked it, still soft and juicy. He hated overcooked bacon. He cut off a piece with his knife and took a bite—superb.
“Thank you, Imelda, it’s delicious.”
Imelda turned and smiled, her cheeks blushing. “Thank you, sir.”
Within minutes, John cleared his plate and downed half of his coffee. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, the climb up Tiger’s Head having built up a huge appetite.
As he sat there dabbing his mouth with a monogrammed napkin, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. An all too familiar feeling of dread ran through him as he pulled it out and looked at the screen.
Only two days left. We are watching you.
Suddenly, the bacon didn’t taste so good anymore.
27
John pushed back his chair and stood up. He thanked Imelda and walked out into the living room. Peter was nowhere to be seen. John needed some fresh air. Opening the sliding doors onto the pool deck, he stepped out, sliding the door closed behind him. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He couldn’t wait until the messages stopped coming. Hopefully, by the end of tomorrow, if all went to plan, his life would be back to normal. He walked over to the edge of the pool deck and looked over the edge. It was a long way down. Once again, he marveled at the engineering needed to support the cantilevered pool. The temperature had dropped, and a strong breeze had whipped up from the east, bringing the threat of rain. The clouds above were dark and ominous, almost as if heralding the looming showdown between him and David Yu.
He looked at his watch… a little after ten a.m., Peter must be ready by now. John just wanted to get the meeting over and done with. He wanted to speed up time and finish things. He turned to look back at the house. Standing in the window, just visible behind the reflected image of the pool deck stood Inspector Joseph Wong, staring at him. It was unnerving, the guy gave him the creeps. Still, he didn’t need to be friends with him. He just needed him to arrest David Yu, then he would never have to see him again.
Peter appeared from the back of the room and opened the sliding door.
“John, come on in, Joseph is here. Let’s get started.”
John walked inside, slid the door shut, and sat on the sofa opposite Peter. Joseph remained standing, just to the right of Peter. He nodded a greeting.
Peter waited while Imelda placed a tray of cups and saucers and a fresh pot of coffee on the table between them.
“That will be all, thank you, Imelda.”
Imelda straightened up and smiled. “Yes, sir. I will be in my room if you need me, sir.”
Peter waited until she had left the room before speaking.
“John, Joseph and I have come up with a plan we think will work well for all of us. Tomorrow morning, come to my boat at the Aberdeen Marina. I will have Samuel pick you up from the Central Ferry Pier at eleven. It’s better you arrive early to avoid any possibility of David or his men spotting you. Joseph will be on the boat already. He will place hidden cameras and recording equipment in the main saloon. We want you to hide in one of the staterooms until David and I arrive at one p.m. You can use the time before then to familiarize yourself with the layout. I will pick David up and bring him to the boat to have lunch and discuss our current project. I’ll give him a few glasses of wine, and food will be laid out, so he’ll be nice and relaxed.”
John nodded and glanced at Joseph who was still staring at him, his eyes unblinking.
Peter continued.
“At two o’clock, you will come out of the stateroom and act as if to kill me. Joseph here will provide you with a weapon.” Peter turned toward Joseph who stepped forward, reached behind him, removing a handgun from where it had been tucked inside his waistband. John’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been expecting a gun.
“What do I need that for?”
“John, we need to make it look realistic. How else do we make it look like you’re going through with David’s plan?”
John nodded doubtfully. Joseph held out the handgun, and John reached over and took it, feeling the weight in his hand. Holding a weapon made him nervous but also strangely gave him a feeling of power.
Joseph spoke up for the first time. “Have you used one of these before?”
John shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. You just need to point it at Peter. It’s loaded, but don’t worry about it going off accidentally. It has a passive safety system so nothing will happen unless you pull the trigger. This is a standard issue police weapon, the Glock 17. We just need it for visual effect. Once we have arrested David Yu, I will return it to the weapons store.”
John nodded, still feeling doubtful. Things seemed much more serious now that he had a real weapon in his hand.
“Okay. But you still haven’t explained how we’ll get David to confess.”
“That’s e
asy,” Peter spoke up. “We’ll just present him with the evidence. After we spoke yesterday, I had Joseph pick up the deposit slips from David’s office. Joseph also made some inquiries with his contacts inside the triads in Macau. Apparently, David owes a lot of money to a notorious moneylender called Broken Tooth, so we have a motive. I’m also sure once we search David, we will find the phone that has been used to send you the threatening messages.”
“But will this be enough to build a case?”
“Don’t you worry about that, Mr. Hayes,” replied Joseph. “It will be more than enough. Mr. Croft has several friends in the judicial system who will be more than happy to assist. Besides, once I present David Yu with all the evidence and he realizes he is facing a long time in prison, he is sure to co-operate with us. We will make sure David Yu will never bother you or Mr. Croft again.”
“But what about me?” asked John. “Nothing will come back on me?”
“John, don’t worry, I will look after you. It’s obvious you have been acting under duress. I will explain how you have been coerced and also how you have been helping the police and me to make the arrest. You’ll be fine,” replied Peter.
“Okay,” John nodded slowly. His head was full of doubts, he needed time to think them through.
“It will be okay, John,” Peter smiled at him. “You have nothing to worry about, we have all the bases covered. I’ll make sure you are looked after. You are saving my life, John, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.”
John smiled reluctantly. He had no other option but to go along with it.
Peter stood up, shaking Joseph’s hand. “Thank you, Joseph.” He turned to John. “John, go home, relax. Get a good night’s sleep tonight.” He reached out and took John’s hand in both of his. Looking John straight in the eye, he clasped his hand.
“By tomorrow evening, all this will be over, and we can celebrate together. And John, thank you once again. I owe you my life.”
A Million Reasons Page 8