by Ciaran Nagle
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 in 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, driving 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 accelerated 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.'
Nancy felt no need to interrupt. Fatty would get there in the end.
'Which brings us to you, young woman. Frenchy and I have discussed your next move in the organisation and there is a logical step for you to take which will give you vital experience. But I will understand if you feel nervous about it.'
Nancy felt she knew what was coming. She rejected the instinct to cross her legs the other way.
'Golden Horse currently has no leader. We need to appoint someone as their manager who they respect and yet who is not one of their own. I have spoken to a number of their old hands and the person they all prefer is you. Obviously, given what happened there I understand if you prefer not to take that role.'
Nancy raised her hand and pushed her hair back from her face. Her fingers lightly brushed her star as she lowered her hand. It didn't do to answer too quickly.
'I thought this vacancy might come up between us, Fatty, so I have given it some thought.' Nancy was a picture of composure. She held her hands together lightly over her chest and stared thoughtfully at the floor for a minute. 'Golden Horse is a down-market operation working in the relative backwater of San Po Kong.' She raised her gaze to meet Fatty's small brown eyes full-on. 'But I'm not afraid of the men who work there. When they kowtowed to me at the Blue Diamond they acknowledged their fault. My honour was restored in front of everyone. I have 'face' with them and I know they will work for me. I believe I can raise the quality of Golden Horse's services as well as increase its margins and profitability. Even San Po Kongers want a bit of luxury when they relax. However I want something in return.' Now was the time to re-cross her legs. The deep slit up the side of her cheung sam opened up a little. Fatty couldn't resist a quick glance before the silk covered it again. Nancy pretended she hadn't noticed.
'Give me all of Kowloon from Yaumati down to the Star Ferry. There is massive untapped potential there for quality girl-friend bars where rich businessmen can meet elegant ladies and spend a lot of money on them. Most of the existing bars I have seen are sordid and cheap. I would like to set up some tightly-controlled members-only clubs targeted at politicians and civil servants. I plan to offer superior services and a luxury setting where they will feel comfortable. They buy prostitutes and drugs anyway so they may as well do it somewhere safe. Also, if people want to spend money on drugs, why should they have to buy it off someone on a street corner? Clients will be able to buy what they like in our clubs and smoke it in complete confidence. They can have a joint in one hand and a girl in the other. Though they'll pay a lot of money for the pleasure of both. What do you say?'
Fatty's eyes gleamed.
'If anyone else made that claim I would say they couldn't do it. But Nancy, I think you have the vision and the cunning to pull it off.'
He thought for a minute.
'How about you begin by setting up one or two establishments. Prove the concept. Establish a business model that can be copied and then we will multiply it around the colony.'
'And then export it,' added Nancy. 'We will start with Thailand and the Philippines and then gradually adapt it to other countries outside Asia. I know it will work really well in Britain.'
'Nancy, I will talk to Frenchy. But I think it's a deal. Next we need to work on the finance.'
'Talking of finance, there's something else, Fatty.'
'Continue.'
'I would like to go shopping. For some clothes. Some nice clothes. And some jewellery from a quality shop.'
'Of course, Nancy. I forgot to mention. Frenchy and I have agreed to raise you from your hostess salary. I was thinking of $HK10,000 a month. Will that be enough?'
Nancy considered Fatty for a moment. Almost but not quite making him squirm.
'For now, Fatty. It will do for now.'
Kodrob's Squadroom, Pentacurse, Inferno
There was a mild thump as a closet door was gently closed. As if by a thief in the night. The door to the squadroom from Pu Gash's petrol station opened and an apron of neon light streamed out. Jabez half opened his eyes and saw Kodrob on his haunches in front of him.
'Here,' whispered the demon. 'Last of the Pu Gash stash. Don't spill it.'
He unscrewed the cap carefully, lest he burn himself, and passed the bottle to Jabez. 'Holy water. It's morally wrong to keep it around here. Best you dispose of it.'
'Kodrob, you devil, you're smiling. I believe you have a sense of humour.' Jabez took a couple of swallows and breathed a sigh.
'Gallows humour, angel. You know how it is. A light burns twice as bright just before it goes out. All that.'
'What will you do?'
'Well, I've always wanted to travel. I haven't seen half of what Inferno has to offer. The lava. The burnt plains. The desperate crowds. I want to see more of them.'
'You mean you're going on the run?'
Kodrob grinned. 'I mean that if they want me, they'll have to put the effort in to find me. No sense in going out cheap. We never surrendered to the Medes nor the Hittites nor the Babylonians. Not even when they clobbered us good. Not even when they put their knives to the throats of our women when they captured the baggage trains. Surrender is not in my nature.'
'Did anyone surrender in those days?'
'Not many. Funny thing though.' Kodrob was suddenly looking intently at Jabez's face, studying his features closely. Something about the angel's appearance had stirred his memory.
'What?'
'There was
a tribe to the south of us. Judeans, they called themselves. Looking back they make me laugh. I hated them at the time but you know the thing is they never beat us in battle but they never surrendered neither.'
'Meaning?'
'Well, we'd be close to slaughtering them in some field outside their city, Jerusalem and they'd stop and say 'let's negotiate', and we'd say 'what with?' and they'd say 'well, what do you want?' and we'd say 'to kill you' and they'd say 'no money in that, let's negotiate' and so it went on and on and on until somehow they'd wangled their way out of it and we'd go back to Nineveh with a bucket of frogs' legs or something useless wondering what had hit us and they'd go laughing home to Jerusalem with their heads still on their shoulders. And then we'd attack them again the next year and do it all again.'
Jabez managed a smile despite his pain.
'What about you? Where you from Jabez? You didn’t come across the Judeans in your incarnation did you?' Kodrob was still looking at Jabez curiously.
'Me? Oh, mine's a long story. But I've been meaning to ask you, what did you do when you weren't fighting? In winter time for instance when the campaigning season was over?'
'I was a saddle-maker. I worked with leather. Always been good with my hands.' Kodrob hadn't noticed Jabez's quick change of subject. 'Anyway, that's all over.'
He rose to his feet. 'By the way, I've heard you're going home.'
Jabez looked up at him.