by Cath Ferla
‘Who’s “we”, Stuart?’ She would try to buy some time. There was another door behind her that she guessed led into the Sichuan restaurant. If she could open it from the inside, put some space between her and Stuart, she would have a chance.
‘I reckon you could probably tell me that, princess,’ Stuart said, as Sophie edged her way back. ‘You’ve got it sorted out. You know about Michael Disney, who’s done a runner; then there’s Zhou, the butcher your little friend killed; our front of house guy, Cho, who’s split to who knows where; and there’s me, the guy with the camera.’
‘So you made sex films with the girls Disney and Zhou had targeted and then Cho got the footage out to interested buyers.’
Stuart nodded. ‘Yeah, except Disney didn’t know about the kidnapping and the snuff films. He’d never’ve bought into that. The rest of us knew there was more money to be made in the hardcore stuff. You’d be surprised how many people have an appetite for horror.’
‘So you undercut him?’
‘We kidnapped a few of Disney’s working ladies and stored them away for our film productions, yes.’
‘Using the existing operation as a cover.’
‘That poor bastard just couldn’t figure out why his workers kept disappearing.’
Sophie took this in. So Stuart and his colleagues had been operating of their own accord and taking things further than Disney had ever envisaged.
‘Was Pete involved?’
‘Who’s Pete?’
She’d try a different tack, follow Su Yuan’s lead, appeal to his conscience. Even depraved people have a conscience, Su Yuan had said. ‘You’re not the psychopathic type.’
‘It’s purely business as far as I’m concerned,’ said Stuart with a shrug. ‘When I got into it with Disney, the girls weren’t dying. We just made a few sexy videos, operated some nasty nightclubs. But then this one girl got real feisty and threatened to spill the beans. Zhou had no choice but to knock her off, and because Disney didn’t ask any questions the whole thing kind of snowballed.’
‘And you thought it would be a good idea to start filming some of these women in the last moments of their lives.’
Stuart shrugged. ‘Where there’s a market…’ He trailed off. But then, pulling himself together, he said, ‘Beats the wages your mate pays.’
‘You’re disgusting.’ She guessed she’d almost backed her way to the door. There was another question she wanted answered. ‘What about the girl who acted as a substitute for Wendy Chan? She must have known something about what you were doing. Is that why she killed herself?’
‘She had a friendly relationship with Zhou.’
‘Friendly?’
‘They were fucking. He bought her shoes and clothes and shit. My guess is he told her something he shouldn’t have. Pillow talk.’
‘And she jumped because she couldn’t handle it?’
‘Guess she had a conscience,’ he said. ‘Pity, because her topping herself started this whole thing off with you.’
Sophie found the handle of the door behind her and turned it. It jammed. Damn. She’d have to scare him. Make him think she wasn’t alone. ‘You’re finished now.’ She was surprised at the strength in her voice. ‘I’ve already called the police.’
Stuart laughed and took another step. ‘You fucking hate the police. And anyway, I know you didn’t.’
Sophie stared him down. ‘You sound confident.’
‘Because I followed you here. I heard your Uyghur mate stressing that you hadn’t told anyone.’
‘Su Yuan saw you in the kitchen. She knows who you are and what you’ve done.’
Stuart continued his approach. ‘Bullshit, sweetheart, she didn’t have a clue. And as long as you’re not around to tell, then there’s nothing to tie me to any of this.’ He finished his statement with a sudden lunge and before Sophie could dodge his attack, he was at her throat, his thick fingers wrapped tightly around her neck. She flailed her arms wildly, her fingers searching for a weapon to use against him.
‘You don’t know how long I’ve waited to feel your flesh between my fingers,’ he hissed into her ear. ‘Listen carefully, Soph, and I’ll tell you what’s going to happen.’
Sophie forced her body to go limp, to relax and roll with the punches the way she’d trained herself to do as a child when getting dumped by the waves in the surf. She concentrated on bringing air into her lungs.
‘In a minute, I’m going to knock you out,’ said Stuart. ‘And when you come to, you’ll be in the cellar. See, there’s this nice little cubbyhole beneath this room. It used to be used for food storage until the rats got in. Now it’s used for storage of a different kind. We’ll have our own little party in front of the video camera. And I’ll get to see what it’s like to go all the way with the boss’s female friend.’
A surge of panic gave Sophie renewed strength and she bucked her knees, trying to find some leverage. What had Su Yuan done? Gone for the balls. If she could aim a kick at his crotch she might have a chance. But the more she bucked, the harder Stuart’s fingers pressed into the skin of her throat until she felt her windpipe might actually snap. A wave of disappointment flowed through her, along with the realisation that it might all end here. Death, in a back room in Chinatown. Fuck that. She forced her eyes open and saw Stuart leering into her face.
‘What next?’ The question came out as a wheeze. The pressure at her throat was so great she couldn’t swallow. But she needed to keep him talking. The longer he talked the more time she had to figure out a solution.
Stuart loosened his grip. ‘When I’m done, I’ll fillet you and you’ll feel every slice of the knife.’ He released his grip and Sophie crumpled in a heap to the floor. ‘It’s going to be a sensation,’ he said, driving a boot into her chin and sending her reeling against the wall. ‘I’m going to make you into a star.’
He strode to the other end of the room and Sophie clutched at her jaw with her hands. The blow had been intended to knock her out and pain drove through her skull like she’d been branded. Through blurred vision, she saw Stuart bend over a rucksack in the corner. She placed a hand on the wall behind her and attempted to get up, but the pain in her jaw was spreading and her head was beginning to spin. It was no good. She looked around desperately, searching for anything at floor level that could help fight off another attack.
And then she found her weapon.
An open basket of dried chillies poked out from beneath the bottom shelf, the skins dark and crinkled and spilling over from the basket onto the floor. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. She had to take a gamble. She drove her hand into the basket and pulled out a handful, sweeping her arm back to her side just as Stuart approached. She saw he carried a metal cleaver in his hand, a pair of plastic cuffs in his mouth. If he cuffed her, it was over – that much she knew for sure.
‘Come here, sweetheart,’ he said as he bent towards her, his breath adding a further sour note to the storeroom’s stench.
It took every ounce of remaining strength for Sophie to shove the handful of chillis hard into Stuart’s face. She took him by surprise and he dropped the cleaver with a clatter. She mashed the seed pods hard against his eyes and clawed at his skin, gouging it with her nails.
‘Bitch!’ he roared in pain and shock. He brought his hands to his eyes, leaving the cleaver exposed on the floor.
She hesitated only a moment once the cleaver was in her hands. Li Hua’s words rang in her memory: I’d take a cleaver and drive it through his spine. I wouldn’t hesitate. Not for a second.
Sophie raised the cleaver with two hands and brought it down hard against Stuart’s right shoulder. She felt first fabric and then skin give way beneath the blade and then metal meet with bone.
Stuart opened and closed his mouth twice with no sound. Then he released a moan. He twisted his head to look at the object that had hit him, and when he saw the cleaver lodged firmly in his flesh, his face drained of blood and he passed out.
�
�Bastard!’ Sophie leaned back against the wall. Relief pulsed through every vein in her body.
And then noise in the kitchen. Footsteps on the stairs. More of them. Fuck.
Sophie placed a hand on the handle of the cleaver. If she had to pull it from Stuart’s broken flesh to use as a weapon, she would.
But the people who came running through the door were not here to capture her. Sophie saw Jin Tao’s face.
‘Soph!’ He rushed straight to her. Behind him, Damian bent to examine Brad.
Su Yuan stood in the doorway, straight as a guard.
‘I thought we might be too late,’ said Jin Tao, his arms around her shoulders, folding her into his chest. Sophie sank into him. He smelled like sweat and spice. ‘I thought we might be too late,’ he repeated, his breath heaving, pulling her closer, running his lips against her hair.
Su Yuan moved past them. She checked Stuart. ‘He’s dead.’
Sophie forced herself to focus, to drive away the emotion that threatened to engulf her. ‘Are you okay, Su Yuan?’
The girl took Sophie’s hand in hers, held it tight. ‘You did it,’ she said. ‘You killed a man that hurt my sister. It means you are a kind of sister to me now. We are connected.’
Sophie blinked away hot tears. She brought Su Yuan’s hand to her mouth, kissed it. The girl smiled and turned away.
Sophie leaned into Jin Tao. ‘How did you know I’d come here, and about Stuart?’
Jin Tao pointed to Brad, sitting up with Damian’s help. ‘Thank the tea guy. He sent Damian a text.’
Brad smiled weakly and gave Sophie a wave. Damian held a bag of frozen dumplings against his head and the image, coupled with Brad’s goofy smile, dried Sophie’s tears and forced a laugh. ‘You were passed out!’ she said.
‘I faked it,’ Brad said with a wink. ‘I had to try to save you, didn’t I? I meant it when I told you I owed you my life.’
Down in the cellar, Han Hong sensed something was happening.
She’d been alone for too long down here. She was freezing and starving and she had hardly the strength to strain her ears for unusual sounds. But she’d heard them.
She knew she’d heard the dull warble of distant conversation, the high pitch of a woman’s voice, followed by a moan and a thud.
Han Hong guessed a new girl had found the strength to fight and received her punishment as a result. And if they were bringing in another girl, it meant her time had come. This was her time to disappear.
Han Hong shifted. She’d lost weight and her bones ached from her long confinement on the floor. Her skin itched and she suspected there’d be a weeping rash on the underside of her legs if she ever saw them in the light again.
If she ever saw the light.
Han Hong realised the terror of her situation had long passed. With time, comes acceptance, she thought. Even in the most horrific of circumstances. She no longer had the strength to fight so she would die at the hands of these people. She had long stopped hoping that she would be set free. These people had a purpose. They made films and they were always looking for their next star. She guessed what it meant now. They would come and they would take her and she would simply cease to exist.
She would never see the mountains from her mother’s balcony window again.
The door opened and Han Hong readied herself for the masked man to make his entrance.
But the sound that came to her ears caused her heart to pound.
‘Hello?’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Is anybody there?’
Acknowledgements
It takes a team to produce a book and I’m so deeply thankful to all the talented and supportive people on mine.
My sincere gratitude to everybody at Echo Publishing, particularly Angela Meyer for believing in this story and for her insightful structural suggestions; Kylie Mason, for her astute and sensitive editing, Sandy Cull for her visually striking and tonally perfect cover design and Shaun Jury for making all the letters look just right.
Thank you to my agent, Sheila Drummond, for taking on Ghost Girls and representing me. Big love to writer Angela Savage: without her encouragement and advice this book may still be a large, untidy file on my hard drive.
I had a supportive and perceptive team of early readers: Claire Berry, Carolyn Collins, Marcia Gardner, Lucy McCarthy, Di McElroy, Karen Reid, Charmaine Smith and Genevieve Wallace – thank you. Thanks to Mum and Marg for early writing time. Appreciation also to Elizabeth Schiavello Photography and Kelly Merritt for photos and friendship.
I am so thankful to have grown up in a family where the joys of reading, writing and creativity were valued and nurtured. I read books in trees and saw the ‘spookies’ and talked to an imaginary friend named Nat. Thanks Mum, Dad and John for encouraging and supporting my wild imagination.
To He Wen Bin (Winnie), my dearest friend, thank you for your love, stories, feedback, translation skills and eye for detail. Despite the distance, we are connected.
To Eugene, your endless support, patience and love beats through me every day. Thank you for your unceasing optimism and your own beautifully creative energy – it inspires me.
To Florence and Rocco, I love you.
Cath Ferla is a Melbourne-based writer with a background in screenwriting and script editing, educational publishing and arts writing. Also a trained teacher, Cath has taught English as an Acquired Language (EAL) in Melbourne, Sydney and Beijing. She has a keen interest in regional Chinese food and once took a solo food pilgrimage to China’s Sichuan province. Ginger, chilli and garlic are her favourite flavours.
Echo Publishing
A division of The Five Mile Press
12 Northumberland Street, South Melbourne
Victoria 3205 Australia
www.echopublishing.com.au
Part of the Bonnier Publishing Group
www.bonnierpublishing.com
Copyright © Cath Ferla, 2016
All rights reserved. Echo Publishing thanks you for buying an authorised edition of this book. In doing so, you are supporting writers and enabling Echo Publishing to publish more books and foster new talent. Thank you for complying with copyright laws by not using any part of this book without our prior written permission, including reproducing, storing in a retrieval system, transmitting in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or distributing.
First published 2016
This ebook edition published 2016
Cover design by Sandy Cull, gogoGingko
Cover image by Kutay Photography/500px
Page design and ebook creation by Shaun Jury
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Creator: Ferla, Cath, author.
Title: Ghost girls, Cath Ferla.
ISBN: 9781760401177 (paperback)
ISBN: 9781760401184 (epub)
ISBN: 9781760401191 (mobi)
Subjects: Students, Foreign–New South Wales–Sydney–Fiction.
Language teachers–New South Wales–Sydney–Fiction.
Organized crime–New South Wales–Sydney–Fiction.
Ghost stories.
Dewey Number: A823.4
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