The Fireman

by Stephen Leather

  I managed to get to the shower and ten minutes under hot water ironed out some of the wrinkles and once I’d cleaned my teeth and gulped down a hot cup of coffee I could swallow without grimacing, though it still felt as if a hamster had shat in my mouth during the night. I shook Howard awake.

  ‘Some nursemaid,’ I said, but I don’t think he heard me.

  He made some sort of snuffling, gurgling noise and groped his way to the bathroom like an elephant looking for somewhere to die. When he reappeared it was with a large, white towel wrapped around his waist. He had perfect feet, the toes straight and square and not a callus or lump to be seen.

  ‘How do you feel?’ he asked.

  ‘Like I look,’ I said. ‘Like a train ran over me. Do you have any idea who they were?’

  ‘I didn’t recognize them. Did they take anything?’

  I checked my wallet. There was nothing missing and my passport was still in my inside jacket pocket. Sally’s watch was still there. ‘No, it wasn’t a mugging,’ I said. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘I don’t know, I told you my Cantonese isn’t up to much. When they were talking to each other they spoke too quickly and they used slang. I couldn’t catch what was being said. And when they pushed me into the bathroom all they said was to keep quiet or they’d kill me. That was easy to understand.’

  ‘So what was it? A warning? Well, why didn’t they say something?’

  ‘Maybe they were going to before you kicked the guy with the knife. Maybe he was the only one who could speak English. I don’t know. It could be they were going to say something before hotel security turned up.’

  ‘Hotel security?’

  ‘Yeah, they came up a couple of minutes after you passed out. Wanted to find out what all the screaming was about. They came haring down the corridor and the three stooges ran off. You were still unconscious so they went off to get a doctor. While they were gone you came round and I put you to bed. You were fast asleep when the doctor arrived, he gave you a quick once over and said no damage had been done.’

  I fingered my sore lip. ‘Fat lot he knows about it,’ I said.

  ‘Security asked me if we wanted to call the police and I said to wait until I’d checked with you. They seemed more concerned about waking up the other guests.’

  ‘Hardly seems worth calling the police in, does it? Seeing how much effort they put into investigating a possible murder, I don’t see them getting excited over a simple assault.’

  ‘The fact you were attacked might persuade them that Sally’s case needs a closer look.’

  ‘No, fuck them, Howard. We won’t get any help from them, I’m sure.’

  ‘OK. Whatever you say.’

  ‘I want to see this guy Slazenger,’ I said as he sipped his glass of orange juice.

  ‘Slazenger?’ he queried.

  ‘The American. The Mandarin speaker.’

  ‘Seligman, you mean. Tod Seligman.’

  ‘Can you arrange it? For today?’ He sat down on the bed and sighed.

  ‘I don’t see why not. He works the night shift and sleeps until the afternoon, I’ll give him a call now.’

  ‘One other thing, Howard. The ICAC. I want to talk to someone there.’

  ‘Today?’

  ‘If you can fix it.’ Of course he could fix it, that’s what stringers are for. As he phoned I dressed, slowly because it still hurt to move. I retrieved the can of deodorant from the floor by the bed and liberally sprayed my armpits, my groin and anywhere else that was likely to sweat during the day.

  ‘Tod’s not working tonight,’ Howard said, dialling again. ‘He’ll meet us for a drink in Wanchai, 9.30. Do you want me to go with you to the ICAC?’

  ‘No need. Just fix up the meet for me.’ He nodded, and then began speaking to the phone, idly scratching his thigh under the towel as rivulets of water dripped down the back of his legs and stained the carpet.

  I was adjusting my tie in the mirror when he finished. ‘You’re to see an ICAC officer called Tyley at three o’clock. I’ll drop you off on my way home, it’s on my way. We’ve got time to eat first, do you fancy brunch at the FCC?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’ll eat here.’ I watched him climb into his clothes and still couldn’t work out how he’d ever be able to have intercourse so long as the laws of physics and gravity applied.

  Shit. I still hadn’t phoned my mother. Today, I’d have to do it today. I’d have to phone the office, too, and then I figured that no, a telex would be better, in case they started putting pressure on me to go back. There was a telex form in the desk drawer and I drafted a message for Bill, explaining that there was a lot of bureaucratic paperwork to go through but that I hoped to be back in London soon.

  Howard was on his way out and he had his back to me when I said quietly, ‘Has the office been on to you at all, Howie?’

  I saw the shoulders tighten and he said, ‘London, you mean?’ without turning. Of course I meant London. He was playing for time, I could practically hear the wheels going around.

  ‘Yeah, London.’

  Howard turned, forming a smile with his greasy lips. ‘One of the lads on the foreign desk gave me a call, asking what you were up to.’

  ‘Did you tell them?’

  ‘Let’s face it, laddie, I don’t know what you’re up to,’ he said, which was as good a way of not answering the question as any.

  ‘Why didn’t they ask me?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask them that yourself,’ he said, and opened the door.

  ‘Next time, let me know, will you,’ I said, my voice flat and hard.

  ‘Aye, laddie, I will.’

  ‘And Howie?’ He raised his eyebrows expectantly. ‘Let’s keep what happened last night a secret, shall we? No telling the police, or your friends, about the fight.’

  He chuckled. ‘I’ll not say a word, but I think you’d better take a look in the mirror,’ he said, and left.

  He had a point. My lip was still badly split and the left eye was bruised and there was a two inch long graze under my chin. I was examining the damage in the mirror when the telephone rang. It was Jenny.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘Hi,’ I said. A regular conversationalist.

  ‘I wanted to apologize for yesterday.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘I thought I’d upset you talking about Sally.’

  ‘No, it’s OK. Honest. I’d just had a rough day, that’s all.’

  ‘And still jetlagged.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’ I was trying to work out whether or not I’d told her where I was staying or if someone had given her my number. Then I remembered the three questions game on the junk when I’d told her that I was booked into the Excelsior. I suppose I’m naturally suspicious, judging people by my own standards. Feigning interest, attraction or friendliness as a way of getting to a story is second nature by now, so much so that I assume that anybody who tries to get close is after something. So what was Jenny after?

  ‘I enjoyed the junk trip,’ I said, just to prove that I remembered where and when I met her.

  She giggled. ‘So I gather. Turned out to be a case of strife on the ocean waves from what I heard.’

  ‘Oh dear, have I got a reputation already?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Talking to her almost made me forget the pain in my chest and my sore face. I was glad she’d called. But still wary.

  ‘Have you eaten yet?’ she asked.

  ‘No, just got up.’

  ‘Can I buy you lunch?’ It seemed a real invitation, she wasn’t just offering to be polite, so I said yes and she said she’d meet me in the Dickens Bar in the basement of the hotel in half an hour.

  When she arrived I was already sitting at a corner table, well away from the bar. A brown waistcoated waiter showed her the way and when she got to within six feet a look of concern crossed her face and she said, ‘My God, what happened?’ I guess I still didn’t look too good.

  ‘Cut myself shaving,’ I said
as she slid into her chair and ordered a vodka and tonic. Today she was wearing a pale blue shirt, but again she’d turned the collar up. She was wearing a long white pleated skirt so I didn’t get the chance to admire her thighs, and she’d replaced the pearls with a thin gold chain.

  ‘Seriously,’ she said. ‘What happened? You’re a bit old to be getting into fights, aren’t you?’

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ I said, fingering my cut lip. It hurt when I smiled.

  ‘Well?’ she persevered. She’d have made a good journalist, she wasn’t going to let me laugh it off.

  ‘Howard and I were attacked last night.’

  ‘My God,’ she said again, covering her mouth with her hand. There was no wedding ring. ‘Where?’

  I nodded at the ceiling. ‘Upstairs,’ I said. ‘There were three of them waiting in my room.’

  ‘Is Howard all right?’ she asked, and for a brief moment I felt a flash of resentment at her concern for him.

  ‘He’s fine, they just pushed him in the bathroom. I think it was me they were after.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. They didn’t say.’

  ‘Did they steal anything?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said.

  ‘What happened, they attacked you for no reason?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was as if they wanted something. Or to frighten me. One of them had a knife.’

  ‘What did they look like?’

  ‘Hell, I don’t know. Medium height, black hair, brown eyes.’

  ‘That covers about ninety-eight per cent of the population,’ she said, and smiled. Lovely smile. Just goes to show what an all-American diet and medical care can do. She was gorgeous.

  ‘Did they have tattoos?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ I said. ‘That’s a strange question.’

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I was wondering if it was the triads, that’s all.’

  ‘The Chinese Mafia? Do they all have tattoos?’

  ‘Most of them,’ she nodded, her hair brushing her shoulders. ‘They’re a sort of badge of office. But if it was the triads, I can’t understand what they were doing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it’s not as if they really hurt you, is it?’

  I was crestfallen. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘What do you call these bruises?’

  She laughed, a soft, warm sound that made me feel good as she put her hand on my arm.

  ‘Listen, boy,’ she said. ‘When the triads want to hurt someone they do it with hatchets and cleavers and what they leave behind doesn’t generally sit in the Dickens Bar knocking back gins. If it was the triads, it was probably a warning. But why?’

  ‘Sally, maybe,’ I said. ‘Perhaps she’d come across them on one of her assignments.’

  ‘But why attack you? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I know. Sally’s flat had been searched, too.’ I shook my head. ‘You’re right, none of it seems to make any sense.’

  ‘Perhaps it was a story she was working on and they think she passed it on to you.’

  ‘About the triads? Well if that’s what they think they’re mistaken because there was nothing in her flat and all I got from the police was a dress, a bag and the watch.’

  ‘But they wouldn’t know that, would they? Maybe you should try to find out what she was working on.’

  I explained that I’d already done that, and told her about my visit to the Post’s office. As I did I realized that she was now thinking along the same lines as me, that Sally hadn’t killed herself. I had an ally.

  ‘Another thing,’ she said. ‘If she had done something to annoy one of the triads, they wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of making it look like suicide.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They’re not afraid of publicity, far from it. Triad killings are as public and as bloody as possible so that they act as warnings.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about triads considering that you’re not from Hong Kong.’

  She laughed. ‘They’re not confined to Hong Kong, boy,’ she said. ‘There were triad gangs back in my old neighbourhood in San Francisco. Everywhere there are Chinese, there are triads.’

  ‘Doing what?’ I asked.

  ‘Usually drugs, they handle a lot of the drugs business from Asia to Europe and the States. And they’re into prostitution. The closer we get to 1997, the more they’re expanding their operations overseas. Hey, have you reported this to the police?’

  ‘No point,’ I said. ‘They didn’t steal anything and, as you so succinctly put it, they didn’t hurt me too much. And after what I’ve seen of the police here, I’m sure they’ll think it was self-inflicted. Shit, I wish I knew what was going on.’

  ‘You and me both,’ she replied. A waiter came over and handed down the menus. Jenny looked over the top of hers.

  ‘I’d like to help,’ she said.

  ‘You are doing,’ I said.

  ‘No, really. You probably haven’t even thought of one tenth of the things you’ll have to do. For instance, did Sally leave a will?’

  ‘What girl her age makes a will?’

  ‘Exactly. So someone will have to look after her estate, terminate the lease on the flat, dispose of her things. Look, I don’t want to be morbid but there are a lot of things that have to be taken care of.’ She was talking briskly, like a school-teacher organizing a nature walk, and I knew that she was making sense.

  ‘And you’re going to have to decide what you’re going to do about the funeral.’

  ‘Funeral?’

  ‘Of course. Will she be buried here or back in England? And if it’s here how will your relatives come over?’

  ‘God, you sound so methodical,’ I snapped.

  She bit down gently on her lower lip and studied the menu. She kept reading as she spoke. ‘I wanted to help, that’s all. She was my friend, and I feel that you’re a friend too.’

  ‘Hey, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you. I suppose it’s just that Sally is still a very sensitive area and I flinch when anyone presses it.’ I reached over and nudged her hand softly, just enough to make physical contact, to touch.

  ‘If the offer’s still open, I would like your help,’ I said quietly. She nodded, and smiled again, and I felt better. A lot better.

  I had the shepherd’s pie, she had a salad, and we both seemed to have a good time. When we parted she kissed me on the cheek.

  When Howard had said ‘Tyley’ I’d heard it as ‘Tai-lee’ and so I did a double take when I met him in his office ten floors above a public car park in Central. I’d been expecting a Chinese.

  ‘Paul Tyley,’ he’d said and shook my hand firmly and then waved me towards a black leather chair opposite his desk. His office was more that of a civil servant than a policeman, the walls were bare except for a few tasteful prints and his degree in a pine frame. No rusting filing cabinets here, everything was teak veneer and the carpet went all the way up to the walls. There was a pen set on his desk, a grey telephone, a crystal ashtray and a grey folder that had a black and yellow tag like a tiger’s tail. I couldn’t read the name on it from where I was sitting but I knew it was Sally’s file.

  Tyley had a boyish face, lots of even teeth, smiling blue eyes and a mop of light brown hair that he kept brushing out of his eyes because it was just a bit too long. With the desk between us he looked to be in his early twenties, but when we’d shaken hands I’d seen the deeply-etched laugh lines around his eyes and there was loose skin around his throat and the forehead under the fringe was marked with wrinkles from years of frowning. Distance was kind to Paul Tyley, but what the hell, I’m no picture.

  ‘I’m sorry about your sister,’ he said.

  ‘Did you know Sally?’ I asked.

  ‘I’d met her a couple of times.’

  ‘Socially?’

  ‘Not socially,’ he said, fingers absently running up and down the tag. There was probably a colour coding for t
he files. I wondered what yellow and black signified. ‘She came in for an interview. Twice,’ he added.

  ‘She was under investigation?’

  He gave me a smile that said ‘of course’ and I gave him one back that said ‘I knew you’d say that’. We sat there grinning like a pair of frightened monkeys.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’d had an anonymous letter pointing out that she was a journalist living well beyond her means, driving an expensive car and with a wardrobe of quality clothes.’

  ‘And the flat.’

  He nodded, and then turned it into a head flick to swing the fringe to one side again.

  ‘And the flat,’ he said. ‘A very expensive flat and no accommodation deal.’

  ‘You check every anonymous tip-off?’

  ‘Most,’ he said. ‘Especially those concerning the police, civil servants, jockeys and journalists. All of them are in positions of influence, and all can abuse it. Corruption runs right through Hong Kong. Or at least it used to.’

  He sounded like a government warning, ‘taking bribes can damage your health’. He opened the file and looked down, the fringe hanging vertically, a curtain of hair that hid his eyes as he read the top sheet.

  ‘I thought this place thrived on corruption,’ I said.

  ‘Not anymore,’ he said. ‘At least not as openly as it used to. We’ve pretty much cleaned up the police force, and business here is a darn sight cleaner than it used to be. And we sorted out the stock exchange.’