by Tony Davies
Paul Bent was one factor that weighed heavily against doing more work with Westminster. He had a sense of unease when it came to Bent. It was nothing he could articulate, just a feeling that there was always another agenda with him and he was not someone who could be trusted. Not that he could trust many people in his line of work anyway.
Weston seemed straight forward enough. No better or worse than some of his previous clients, although he was probably smarter than most if not all of them. What you saw was not necessarily what you got, but that could be said for lots of people. He certainly paid well and an ongoing relationship could mean a steady stream of work, probably enough to dissuade him from taking the Smith’s job in Singapore.
Ah, the Smith’s job, a decision waiting to be made. He knew he would have to decide shortly, but he reasoned he had a couple of more days before crunch time. If he accepted the post he could delay starting with them for a couple of months which would allow him to finish off some of his existing cases, including Stephen Chan’s.
The timing of the offer of extra work from Weston was interesting to say the least. He would have assumed that getting to the bottom of the allegation would be more important to Weston than vetting a few people for a potential American client. So why had he made the offer? That nonsense of him needing to be able to allocate resources properly wasn’t worthy of a reply. He didn’t need to be told how to run his business, not even from someone as astute as Weston. He had learnt enough about allocating resources while he was in the police force to be able write a book about it.
‘Never think bad about people until you are certain they have done something bad’ was one of the many things his father had told him while he was growing up. Bitter experience had since taught him that in the real world it paid to be cautious, even cynical, when it came to people’s intentions. Weston had done nothing to earn his trust and the offer of extra work had to be viewed accordingly.
He glanced at his watch and stood up. The time for introspection was over. He slowly walked toward the exit, smiling at the Starbucks crewmember with the pink earrings as he did so.
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It rained that night. The heavens opened and Hong Kong was deluged as a tropical storm moved in from the South China sea. He stood on the balcony and saw the roads below shimmering with the lights from a hundred buildings. The view had always impressed him. The darkness of the night shrouded the streets in mystery and its lights lit up the sky in a haze of silver. During the day it was just another crowded metropolis in need of an architectural heritage. Nothing was ever preserved, buildings were routinely pulled down and replaced with more concrete boxes that would in time be pulled down and the cycle would endlessly repeat itself. But at nighttime it was special.
He looked to the street below and saw a taxi slow as it neared his building. It stopped near the entrance and a man got out of the nearside rear door and was quickly followed by a woman. They rushed the few yards to the comparative safety of the entrance canopy in an attempt to avoid the steadily falling rain.
A few moments later the taxi light came on and it slowly made its way towards the exit. It seemed to linger at the gate for a moment longer than was necessary, but it then pulled into the street and began the search for its next fare. On a night like this it would have no difficulty in finding one.
He wondered whether the taxi driver enjoyed his work or was simply grinding out a living as many people did in Hong Kong, and the rest of the world for that matter. At least he was sat in an air-conditioned car and surely there wasn’t a lot of stress in driving a taxi. He reflected on that for a moment before deciding that driving in Hong Kong’s manic streets could be stressful, to some people at least. It wouldn’t be stressful to him of course. Given his career and the demands placed upon him, he often found himself in situations that most people would regard as stressful. He never thought of them that way. They were opportunities for him to show his strength of character, for him to demonstrate his ability to persevere in the face of any adversity. He was the rock in his universe, a constant who could always be relied upon to deliver in any situation. Decide on the goal, formulate a plan and then execute it. No prevarication, no emotion, no mercy. All he had to do was focus on the process and the result took care of itself.
He glanced at his watch. It was a Rolex and had been given to him as a present by his father. The watch said 9.41pm and he knew he could linger for a few minutes more before his 10pm telephone call.
His thoughts turned to the tasks he had to complete if everything was to go smoothly. Everything seemed to be going well but he knew from bitter experience that this could change within the blink of an eye. He couldn’t control every situation and inevitably there would be hiccups along the way. The key was to have a long-term strategy and work every day towards that.
He remembered an incident from his childhood. He was eleven years old and was regarded by his classmates as a bit of a loner. Whilst he would join in the occasional social gathering when asked to, the other boys were slightly intimidated by him and he made no particular effort to relieve them of that feeling.
A new boy had joined their school and had quickly established himself as the school bully. He was heavily built and quick to use his fists. Few of the boys were prepared to stand up to him in an argument.
It had begun with a series of taunts, which he had been able to ignore until the day the bully had pushed him to the ground and began kicking him. Before he could respond to the boy a teacher had intervened and the boy had been chastised for his actions. He knew he would have to address it in his own way though. As his father had often told him, never be a victim. He had to send a message not only to the boy, but to everyone else within his circle of ‘friends’ that he was not, and was never going to be, one of those.
Over the next three days he told several of his classmates that he intended to extract revenge on the bully. He didn’t want everyone to know what he planned, especially not the bully, but he did want people to attribute the retribution to him when knowledge of it became public.
He was to learn quickly that people could never keep secrets. Confronted by the bully and several of his new friends after school he was faced with a dilemma most people face at some point in their lives, ‘put up or shut up’.
He had learnt two things from the beating he had taken that day. One was that you couldn’t trust people to keep secrets unless they were more afraid of you than they were the devil himself. The other was that it was always down to him to protect his position and everything he achieved in life. He couldn’t rely on anyone else to do it for him or even stand in his corner while he did it.
Fortunately, his injuries were not life threatening. The black eye and broken nose were prominent, and caused some initial concern with his teachers. However, he explained to them that he didn’t know who his assailants were and it was just a random attack that occurred while he was out walking on his own. Whilst no-one believed him, it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to take it further and since he had absolved the school of any liability, everyone was happy for the matter to rest there.
The bully had mysteriously departed the school within days of the incident and he had never known whether that was down to the beating or was just coincidence. He didn’t believe in coincidences, but he lacked the maturity and resources to establish what the real position was so he had simply filed it away in his head and got on with his life.
Years later he had met the bully when he visited a mobile phone shop looking for a new phone. The bully didn’t recognize him, but he certainly remembered him. He quickly discovered he was the owner of the store and a pillar of the local community. Not that it counted for much, the community didn’t help him when his store was torched a week later. It also didn’t help when he was also assaulted on his way home from a restaurant. The beating he took had taken very little to arrange and provided a degree of satisfaction f
or missing out on retribution all those years before.
Revenge is such a beautiful seducer. It fills your soul with lust and a desire like no other. Time spent waiting, biding time, knowing the inevitable but accepting that patience is needed. And then the sheer joy of release when the deed is done.
His thoughts were interrupted as another car pulled up outside his building. It was still raining heavily and he thought the occupants had better have an umbrella or they were going to get very wet. He wondered if they had come to see him.
Chapter twenty nine
Sat in the boardroom
The boardroom clock showed 9am, but Mack knew Lindy always kept it running five minutes fast. He had once asked her why and had been told it was necessary to avoid being five minutes late. He had put it down to being just another of her quirks.
The table contained the usual Starbuck’s coffee cups, courtesy of Ah Leng and a half eaten muffin, which Lindy had picked at. He had eaten his with gusto and was toying with the idea of asking Ah Ping for another.
“Mack, the list Debbie gave you has a member we know. His name is Sam Ng and he is in our databases in connection with the child pornography case you dealt with just after we set up. He was one of the producers who shared the studio where Herman Wong produced the CD. There was nothing to indicate he had anything to do with Wong other than being a co‐tenant though.”
Lindy seemed particularly pleased with herself and looked expectantly at him.
When she didn’t get a response she smirked “See, I told you investing time in building the databases would be useful and that everything, no matter how irrelevant it seems at the time, should be entered.”
She had a smug look on her face and Mack smiled to himself.
The name Sam Ng meant nothing to him but he could certainly remember Herman Wong. Wong had run a business producing promotional CDs for small to medium size companies. He hadn’t been particularly successful at it and to supplement his income he had produced a CD showing minors in various scenes such as taking a shower. The emphasis was on nudity rather than explicit sexual acts. It was relatively tame compared to some of the CD’s that were being made, but its production and distribution was still illegal.
The good news for Wong was that he showed it to a friend who understood the implications of Wong going down that particular route. The friend could have reported it to the police but instead hired Mack to persuade him to get out of the business and go back to producing promotional CDs. He didn’t feel as a friend Wong would listen to him, but he did not doubt Mack’s persuasive abilities.
When confronted by Mack, Wong had seemed genuinely remorseful over his actions and vowed not to repeat them. A sizable donation to the Po Leung Kuk orphanage seemed a fitting punishment and to the best of Mack’s knowledge Wong had not produced another such CD. That was not to say he hadn’t, but Mack hadn’t heard anything on the grapevine so he assumed this was the case.
“And since I am the number one researcher in Hong Kong. I have more good news for you. I went on to Facebook and found that Sam Ng is single. From his photo he looks extremely gay. He is a member of the Ladies Recreation Club and lists tennis as one of his hobbies. So we have a gay film producer. He is a member of the La boheme club and the Ladies Recreation Club. He could have met Stephen there. He plays tennis, possibly with Stephen who was also gay. As for his company, it makes videos for discerning clients, whatever that means. I can also tell you that he is still a tenant at the same film studio he shared with Wong and where Stephen’s CD could have been made.”
“Very impressive so far. Anything else?” Mack tried to keep the smile of his face.
“Yes, one last thing, I phoned Ng’s studio on the pretext of him doing a CD for us. He didn’t ask me what type of CD, he just said he can meet you at 2pm tomorrow at his studio. I doubt he will connect you with Herman Wong, but if he does I am sure you will think of something.”
Lindy stood up and started collecting the coffee cups and plates before she stopped and looked at Mack. “I will leave you to tidy up.” She turned and left the room.
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It was still raining at 10am the next day, and as Mack gazed out of his office window he wondered if it would ever stop. It didn’t look as if it would, and the weather forecast in that morning’s SCMP paper had said it would rain for at least the next three days.
Hong Kong’s streets were crowded at the best of times, but when it rained they seemed particularly so. Its all those umbrellas he told himself. Too little space, too many people and then throw umbrellas into the mix and bingo, all the ingredients to create mayhem. All very depressing in Mack’s view.
Don Taylor was sat opposite him and it was clear the foul weather wasn’t helping his mood either. Don had rung him to say he was in the area and would ‘pop in for a chat’. Their offices were less than a mile from each other so Mack wasn’t fooled by that. Don had arrived ten minutes later looking drenched and miserable.
“Some of our lads have been looking a little more closely at the La boheme Club. Rumour has it they are bringing in young boys from the mainland and putting them up in cheap motels in Kwun Tong. If its true we will need to close it down sooner rather than later. There is a mystery guy behind it all so we want to get to him before we do that though.”
“Yeah, I can see why you would want to do that. How are you getting on with Stephen Chan’s death?” asked Mack.
“Not very good I am afraid. It is all circumstantial at the moment. Minor bruising, but he could have drowned accidentally. I think the coroner will record an open verdict unless something else comes up. Are you getting anywhere with the Lee Wai investigation? You haven’t told me all the facts yet and I hope you are not hiding something from me. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“No, nothing.”
“Come on big boy, Chan is somehow tied in with Lee and now he is dead. That is not enough for me to start a murder investigation, but I want you to remember who your friends are. You understand what I am saying?” Don’s tone remained calm although Mack sensed that could change at any moment.
“I really can’t help you on this. I am working for a client and as you well know, I can’t divulge information without his consent. I will tell you that if I find anything that supports the fact Stephen was murdered you will be the first to know.”
Don smiled at Mack and replied softly “Okay, no problem. I know there is a connection of some sort but you can’t help me with it. I will trust your judgment on this. At least for now.”
He smiled at Mack and said “A word of advice from a friend. Be careful about Westminster. We have had a look at their operation and whilst they seem squeaky clean, everything may not be as it appears. I can’t say more than that and anyway, we don’t have anything concrete on them. Oh, and I should tell you we received another anonymous call to say you were investigating both Lee and Chan and that there is definitely something in it for us. Interesting call don’t you think. Any thoughts on why someone should want us to know that?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
As Don left his office Mack pondered the question. The truth was that he really didn’t know why the call had been made.
Chapter thirty
A bit of play acting
Sam Ng’s studio was in Chai Wan, on the eastern side of Hong Kong Island. It was on the 7th floor of an old industrial building, which comprised a series of small offices and what appeared to be locked-up storage areas. It certainly didn’t reek of success and Mack thought it was probably ideal for the type of CD production he thought Lee might be involved in.
After knocking on the door several times it was opened by a Chinese male in his late thirties. He was dressed in tightly cut jeans with a white Polo tee shirt that clung to his body. He was in good shape, but Mack’s first impression was that he wasn’t an athlete. It was all show and his face showed no propensity for
violence or aggression. In a fight Mack was confident here would be nothing of substance to back up the physical appearance.
When Mack told him who he was Sam Ng offered his hand to shake and in passable English invited him in.
The studio comprised one large room with a desk and three chairs near the entrance. A large moveable screen covered most of one wall. He assumed it hid a bed and lighting equipment, but he decided he should keep an open mind. There was no point in jumping to conclusions and all would be revealed in due course.
He sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk and to his surprise Ng took the seat alongside him rather than behind the desk.
“Too formal behind desk. I like to know clients. Very important in my business. You agree?” said Ng. He didn’t sound openly gay and his mannerisms were certainly not effeminate.
“I certainly do. Clients can become friends that way and build long-term relationships. Do you like to build long term relationships Mr. Ng?”