The Code War

by Ciaran Nagle

  Chopper was only waiting till the gods he believed in, the Lord of Time and the Lady of Fortune had agreed that it was the right moment for him to strike. If Fatty wasn't going to hand him the throne of Brother, he reasoned, he would have to seize it for himself.

  'Why's Fatty doing this, bringing in this western babe-in-arms, a woman, can't even speak Cantonese?' asked Chopper of his Brother mates Mars Ma, Wonton Chiang and Nescafé Mao.

  'He's lost it. He's gone soft,' said Mars Ma sycophantically.

  Mars Ma's path to Brother had involved armed robbery of cab drivers by simple application of gun to back of head. He liked to portray himself as a talented criminal artist rather than a simple thug. But really he was a one-trick pony: he knew how to apply fear very suddenly to an isolated man in a cramped space, then extract the cash and get away quick. Ma had suffered for his art. On one occasion he got into the back of a taxi, leaned forward till he was right up against the cabbie's head and pulled his usual stunt. The enraged cabbie had refused to pay up and instead floored the accelerator and driven off at top speed sending Ma suddenly rocking into the back seat. The cab then smashed into a streetlight sending the two of them through the windscreen. Ma's severely lacerated face thereafter bore a red pallor with striations from his nose right back across both cheeks to his ears that made his face look like the fourth planet. Triad members relished a good nickname and so Ma's new moniker was born.

  Chopper agreed. 'Right at this moment she's over at the Golden Horse sipping sherry with Monkey,' he roared. 'The scheming godfather of working-class junkies is probably eating out of her hand. I should be there, that should have been my job. I'm the negotiator. I'm the number two. Now she'll come back to Fatty with Monkey all over her like hoisin sauce on a spring roll and tell him she deserves to run his operation.'

  String Vest came in. 'Boss they can hear you in Deep Throat.'

  'You'll have something of mine deep down your throat if you don't shift yer arse. Put a shirt on and make yourself respectable. What sort of a brother are you?'

  String Vest departed.

  'Things have gone too far. It's time for new leadership at the top of Brother, that's my opinion Chopper,' said Wonton Chiang.

  Wonton supplied many of the girls who worked in Brother's brothels, casinos and film clubs. Wonton once had a close brush with religion. He had volunteered as a night worker in one of the soup kitchens run by charities to cater for the homeless, especially new arrivals smuggled across the border from mainland China. Wonton noticed how charity workers were automatically given a huge degree of trust by needy strangers, even women.

  When his do-gooding enthusiasm started to wane, he began to cosy up to any pretty females who came along to the charity soup stall and offer them free accommodation at his apartment. Once off the streets and reluctant to be homeless again, Wonton found it easy to control them and feed them into the prostitution system. When the charities eventually tumbled his game and threw him out of their organisations he simply set up his own street kitchen specialising in his favourite soup variety, wonton. He turned away all the homeless men and any women over 30 and only gave soup to those he could use profitably. Wonton was widely admired in Brother for his lateral thinking and innovative methods.

  'It's a matter of choosing the right time,' said Chopper, abstractedly.

  'Nescafé, you ain't said nothing all evening, what do you think?'

  'Sorry boss, I've just sent a load of red chicken heroin off to Kwun Tong packed in coffee jars. I'm waiting to hear if it's arrived. I'm not really concentrating on the discussion.' Nescafé could tell from Chopper's look of dissatisfaction that his excuse for lack of comment was not accepted.

  'Except to say,' he added quickly, 'that little Nancy knows nothing about drug-running like me, she's too nice to get involved with people-trafficking like the talented Mr Wonton here, she'd faint if anyone pointed a gun at her like my esteemed companion Mars and worse than all that she has no respect from anyone in the entire ancient, revered and estimable organisation that we all know and love as Brother. In short she has no face.'

  The last point was the worst insult that a Chinese gangster could use against anyone.

  Speech over, Nescafé sat back and picked up his own brandy glass. Chopper looked from one to the other. 'So boys, are we all agreed?' he asked. 'Are you going to back me for the leadership?'

  Chopper's accomplices had only been playing up to him for the sake of an easy life, because they were afraid of him. They weren't expecting to get involved in a mutiny. But now their feelings hardened and, each one encouraged by the others, they agreed to support Chopper in his bid for power.

  The four swore an oath of secrecy to each other. They began to plot the downfall of Fatty Lo as soon as it could be arranged and the humiliation and expulsion of Nancy from the organisation.

  Meanwhile, only five miles away in San Po Kong, Nancy was feeling quite humiliated already. She too was considering her immediate future in Brother. But she was doing it while chained to a stove alongside two professional sex workers and staring at a dish full of prophylactics that were soon to be used on her.

  She didn't feel much like Two Ferrari Nancy now.

  Pearl River Dancing Parlour, San Po Kong, Kowloon

  All night long they came at Nancy. Roxy and Susy tried to protect her by luring the men in their direction. 'Me, me, me,' they both shouted when any male came close.

  But mainly the men wanted their turn with Nancy. Novelty factor.

  Everything in the same place, they all joked.

  Half way through the evening and just when the bustle was waning, a stripper arrived. Unfortunately she was very good at her job and got all the men excited again. There was an intense burst of activity after that.

  Mostly the men played mah-jong, drank, smoked, joked, laughed, played table tennis and when they felt the need they came to the pleasure centre around the stove, selected their human toy and took their fun.

  Nancy's natural horror at the violations being inflicted on her every few minutes was only slightly alleviated by the chatter of the two prostitutes. Roxy and Susy knew many of the men already. For them they were not rapists, but customers. They joked with them, asked about their families, talked about food and movies.

  Were they on piece rate, being paid by the trick? Did they really enjoy their work? But Nancy drew heart from the sisterhood that had formed around the stove. Her two manacled partners could not shorten her ordeal. But they continued to give her looks of concern.

  Down and down went the level of packets in the bowl.

  Nancy wondered at the men and how they were able to perform this intimate act in front of each other. If anything the public nature of their performance seemed to add to their enjoyment. They laughed and hooted and joined in mockingly as each one reached his destination with groans and cries.

  Mates.

  They'd go back to their wives and girl-friends and make love to them and dandle their children on their knees and visit their parents for dinner on Sunday nights. None of tonight would be shared with the families. But this blokey celebration of basest instincts, this matey conspiracy would be their little club secret. They'd be talking about this night for weeks.

  - Remember when Fatty Lo sent Monkey that English slapper for us to play with? Great night wasn't it?

  - Yeah, but she was as miserable as a Shanghai mother-in-law.

  - Ah Deng said she gave him crabs.

  - Ah Deng probably gave her crabs.

  - I heard she wasn't a pro at all. She just can't get enough of our prime mutton.

  - She was mutton you mean. She must have been twenty-five at least.

  So on.

  Nancy didn't think about hate or revenge or going to the police or telling Fatty or going home to England. She just endured, waiting for the awful night to end.

  As more and more of the little packets disappeared Nancy decided the lacquered bowl was really quite delightful. What an incongruous moment to discover su
ch artistry.

  One condom remained.

  The men were getting tired. And drunk. And drugged. Many had smoked heroin, taking out their little rectangles of tinfoil, folding them in a V and sprinkling white or red granules that looked like coffee into the fold. A lighted candle below the V and a piece of rolled up paper in the mouth to chase the smoking dragon up and down the line was all that was necessary.

  A bump against her hip. Hands on her outer thighs slowly moving up under her skirt, pushing the tartan up her back. Her pants had long since disappeared, probably in some drug pusher's pocket as a memento. She felt the man grazing himself against her, brushing left and right and up and down against her buttocks.

  Which one was this? Had he been before?

  Just get it over with.

  Hands cupped her breasts and massaged clumsily. Heavy breathing. Pig.

  The last condom went back. She heard the plastic rip and felt the fumble. She began to rock forward and back. Steady girl, hold it together. This night will end. It will never happen again, promise you that.

  And as he came to the end of his journey and his body shook and his mates roared their approval, Nancy looked into the bottom of the beautiful lacquered bowl and saw the small s. It was an eel but to her shock it moved, writhed, twisted and swam. But it always stayed an s.

  The man zipped up. The eel froze still.

  Red Sis

  The door opened and Chu appeared. Where had he been? Nancy was sure he hadn't coupled with her. Earlier he had been in the room chatting with the men, joking, socialising, playing mahjong. Then he had disappeared for a long while.

  Chu approached her with his hand in his pocket. Tinkle of metal on metal. Keys.

  'Nancy, you may leave very soon,' he said. But his voice was empty of hope.

  Chu released Suzy and Roxy who were half asleep against the stove. Both looked around dizzily then found themselves comfortable chairs, settled into them and immediately closed their eyes. They knew there was no more work for them that night.

  Chu came last to Nancy and turned the key in her handcuffs. The steel clasps sprung open and she reclaimed her hands, quickly smoothing down her skirt as though she had any dignity left. Chu took Nancy by the arm and led her back into the luxurious room through which she had come earlier. Her legs were stiff and she was sore, barely able to walk.

  'I very sorry for your hurt,' he said, noticing her frozen expression. 'But now my boss, Monkey, want to give you answer for Mr Lo.'

  He led her towards a closed door.

  'No, I'm not going in there,' exclaimed Nancy, fearing something even worse than the ordeal she had just suffered.

  'No danger to you. Promise,' said Chu.

  'You lied to me before about the third girl, then you handcuffed me. Why should I trust you now?'

  Chu nodded.

  'Please to see,' he said. He walked towards the door, opened it wide and stood back so that she could see in.

  Nancy's face was white and her body was both rigid and shaking. She was inclined to run for the exit but for a moment she stood defiantly and looked inside the room. It was small and sparsely furnished. In the middle was a dining table. A man was laying on it on his back, very still, his hands folded across his chest. It was Monkey.

  'My boss very angry with Fatty Lo,' said Chu. 'My boss lose face when lose Golden Horse. Want to hurt Mr Lo. That is why he order this to you. When he hurt you, he hurt Mr Lo. Now Mr Fatty Lo can have Golden Horse. But Monkey die with honour. He fight back against Mr Lo in only way he can.'

  Nancy stood and stared. Now she understood Chu's despair.

  'Have taxi waiting for you downstairs,' continued Chu. 'Already paid. Take you back to Yaumati. Go now.'

  'You know Brother will come after you and kill you, don't you, all of you?' Nancy was shaking with anger.

  'All other colleagues not know what Monkey do,' said Chu. 'He has written letter to all. In morning they read it. They find out tomorrow they now part of Brother. They think you are just prostitute. Only I and Monkey know.'

  'Fatty Lo will have you killed.'

  'No,' said Chu. 'Fatty not do that.' As Nancy looked on, rigid, cold, white, Chu walked into the room, took off his polished shoes and placed them neatly beside each other on the floor. Then he sat on the table beside the prostrate corpse of his boss and looked back through the door to Nancy. 'Monkey treat me like father all my life. Look after me. I never leave him. Where he go I go too.'

  Chu took a small box out of his top pocket, opened it and showed Nancy a white tablet.

  'I so sorry for your hurt Nancy.' Chu placed the tablet in his mouth and swallowed. 'So sorry. Goodbye.'

  Nancy didn't want to see any more. She turned and left the building.

  Above Nathan Road, Yaumati, Kowloon

  The cavalry arrived just in time. Lafarge's alert that he had seen an unearthly-looking object, the globe that Jabez lost when he was beaten out of the Fundial by Zhivkin, resulted in a stampede of marauders and foragers of all kinds in search of loot. But amongst the rabble was an organised squad of soldiery sent by Bezejel. Its captain was Baalbul and he had a reputation for savagery that terrified even his own troop.

  A globe would be more than just a valuable bauble in the corridors of power in Inferno. It could be used for listening into conversations throughout the Heavenly Realm. The Leader, yes no less than he, would use it as a trophy to remind his followers that battles could indeed be won against the angelic host.

  Baalbul led a centurion of satyrs in ten by ten phalanx formation. Their armour and axes burned red hot as they plunged through the upper levels of Earth's atmosphere at high speed heading for the little British colony. As they neared the surface, they saw, on an interception route in front of them, the column of twelve cavalrymen that Ruth had ordered. It was led by Bohemond, one of the most valiant commanders in all of Paradise.

  'Desist,' shouted Bohemond to his massed enemy. 'Depart and go home to your fiery fields and you will not be harmed.'

  But Baalbul's dark mood was set for he was in search of personal glory.

  'Get out of my way, fool, or I will take you back with me and set you down beside your brother Jabez. There to be tormented in a way you cannot imagine.'

  Then he looked left and right at his grim-faced warriors and ordered them to kindle their fire arrows for he planned to send waves of blazing tar barbheads arcing into the angels bright plumage and immolate them in their rush and make of them a sight like many comets burning their way across the heavens for men to point to and wonder at. 'Tar and feathers,' he laughed. 'Can't beat them. They go together like saints on fire. Time to light them up boys.'

  But he had reckoned without the determination of Bohemond's angels on their speedy steeds for while Baalbul was boasting and celebrating too soon, the angels had closed the gap between the forces. Bohemond, that knight of old Byzantium, led his mounted, breastplated angels in a thunderous charge against the muscly satyrs under their rock mail coats. Three angels continued for Nathan Road to find and guard the globe. They linked up with Luke who had flown on streamlined wings faster than ever before to make the rendezvous on time.

  The other nine steadied their ice lances before them and drove straight into the enemy formation, ripping right through its heart. Eighteen demons fell burning in the first pass as lances fell left and right, their diamond sharp ice tips ripping through the brittle slate rings into the infernal skin beneath. There they released sprays of life-giving water that seared the undead tissue dealing catastrophic shock to the damned creatures' miserable senses.

  The cavalry wheeled about and charged again into the already broken and fleeing formation of shrieking devils picking them off in ones and twos. Baalbul brought up his bow and aimed a sure shot at one angelic rider. But just as he prepared to release the string, a fragment of ice from a lance tip hit him in the eye. His fingers slipped and his arrow skewed high, missing its intended target. Baalbul fell, the melted ice burning his brain, his body alread
y sagged and unfeeling. An angel bugler blew a song of praise as he slew and the retreating demons covered their ears from the hateful sound and threw away their bows and their untorched arrows.

  Lafarge, hearing the din and realising he was alone and surrounded made a desperate dash for cover. As he attempted to reach the upper air, an ice lance hurled from a great distance by the angel Thaddeus caught him in the neck. His body jerked rigid. Lafarge's remains continued their fall into the Fifth and Inferno even as the first husk strands appeared through his skin and began to envelop him. He would take no further part in Bezejel's mission.

  The nine regrouped with the three and recovered Jabez's missing globe. Spurring on their chargers they rose from Earth's sleepy night and soared upwards to Heaven's grateful embrace even while Jabez lay wounded in Kodrob's squadroom and Nancy was arriving back at the Golden Luck after her own hellish torment at the hands of the almost damned.

  This had been just a skirmish, a minor affair. But at least no more angels had been lost.

  Now it was time to recover Jabez. Now to get Heaven's captured angel back. Not one must be left behind.

  Half-Way Island, mid-way between Paradise and Inferno

  Heaven's envoy, Augustine, arrived on the neutral platform that served as the occasional meeting point between the irreconcilable forces of truth and deceit.

  Under the terms of the parley there was to be no ambush or attempt to hold or delay. War was suspended, at least as much as could be when one party believed itself in permanent belligerence. Inferno's Leader arrived with an escort of female siren demons in uniform long boots and skirts, all carrying short flame guns. They were fair, in the manner that beautiful assassins may be, but they moved as a group, all individuality lost.