Nine Dragons - A Beatrix Rose Thriller: Hong Kong Stories Volume 1 (Beatrix Rose's Hong Kong Stories Book 2)

by Dawson, Mark

  Beatrix gritted her teeth.

  “Hang on.”

  She wrapped her legs around the pipe, reached for the section above her head, and started to shinny up it. The screws and brackets groaned with the added weight, but they stayed in place.

  She reached for the lip of the roof. She probed for a handhold, found a boxy air-conditioning unit and laced her fingers around the lattice of a protective grate. Grunting with the effort, she hauled herself up and fastened her left hand around an exposed pipe and pulled so that the two of them rolled over the parapet. She righted herself quickly and scouted the roof. It was just as she remembered it. No one up here with them. Not yet, anyway.

  “We’ve got to get over there,” she said, pointing across to the other roof.

  The girl’s eyes bugged out. “We cannot.”

  The ascent had terrified her.

  What Beatrix was proposing would make that look like a cakewalk.

  She couldn’t worry about that. If they stayed on the roof, the men would climb the stairs and there would be nowhere for them to go.

  She had five rounds left.

  They had a shotgun and at least two pistols.

  They were badly outgunned.

  They had no choice.

  Grace walked over to the parapet and looked down.

  “I cannot.”

  “They’ll kill you if you stay here,” she said.

  The girl blanched.

  “Hold on tight, just like before. You’ll be fine.”

  Beatrix stepped up to the edge, the tips of her toes just over the lip of the roof. The wind picked up and, despite knowing that it was impossible, she had the impression that the building was bending and swaying. She dropped down so that her legs were over the parapet. She turned back to Grace and, finally sensing that she really didn’t have a choice, the girl hurried over and looped her arms around Beatrix’s neck again. Beatrix reached down and took Grace’s legs, positioning them around her waist and pressing them tight.

  The girl felt snug on her back.

  It wouldn’t be just like before, of course. The ascent had been more natural. Grace had been able to bear her weight with her arms and anchor herself with her legs. This time, she would be upside down. It would be harder for both of them.

  Beatrix hoped that she would be strong enough.

  She bent down and lowered herself to the wire and the cable. “Ready?” She gripped them with both hands, locked her ankles around them and let gravity swing her around so that she was hanging upside down. She felt Grace’s body go taut with terror, her grip constricting around her throat and waist. She started to pull herself away from the parapet. The wire was looser than it appeared, and it bowed down and then started to sway from side to side as she continued farther out.

  They were halfway when she heard the boom of the shotgun from behind her.

  The door to the roof.

  The Glock was in her waistband.

  She paused, looping the crook of her left elbow around the wire and reaching back between her body and Grace’s body until she felt the butt of the pistol. She took it as she saw the men emerge from the housing. There was no easy way to aim, so she reached out and pointed with the pistol, loosing off two quick rounds in the vague direction of the triads. The pistol kicked and the bullets winged away. Two misses, but the men ducked beneath the parapet. Something for them to think about, such as it was.

  Three rounds left.

  She held the gun to her side, pointing away from Grace, and told the girl to take it.

  She grasped the wire with both hands and started to pull again.

  A pistol barked out and a round whizzed overhead, missing by a few feet.

  Almost there.

  Another shot, and then the boom of the shotgun.

  Almost there.

  A patch of wall blew up in front of her.

  Something hot and sharp scraped across her arm.

  Fragments of dry brickwork spattered over them.

  Beatrix pulled harder, slithering across the wire.

  The building on the opposite side of the gap was within touching distance. She craned her neck around and looked; there was a window two feet below them. “Hang on,” she said. She rearranged her grip, uncrossed her legs and let the momentum of the sudden swing carry her feet first to the glass. She kicked out, shattering the panes, and hooked her foot against the top of the aperture. “Get inside,” she muttered. The effort of holding her body steady tore at her biceps and the muscles of her shoulders. Grace did as she was told. She slithered down Beatrix’s body until she was able to rest her weight on the sill and then dropped into the room beyond.

  The shotgun boomed again.

  Beatrix reached ahead on the wire and yanked herself closer to the wall. She let go. Her feet dropped down onto the sill, slipped off, and, for a moment, she thought she was going to fall. The window rushed by her face before she reached out and grasped the frame with both hands. Her legs slammed into the wall beneath the window. There were fragments of glass caught in the putty and they sliced into her fingers and palms. The blast of pain forced her to let go with her left hand. The pain screeched down her right arm, too. Her grip was loosening until Grace appeared above her and reached down with both hands, grabbing Beatrix’s wrist and anchoring her.

  She grabbed the sill with her left hand, scrabbled the toes of her boots against the disintegrating wall, clambered up and fell inside the room.

  She assessed: it was a bedroom, a futon on the floor, a bookcase. The room was empty.

  She looked down at her hands. Her left was lacerated, three bloody tracks running across the fleshy part of her palm and into the lower joints of her fingers, but her right wasn’t as badly cut as she had feared.

  She took the gun from Grace, turned back to the window and looked out. The four triads were at the parapet. She drew down on one of them and squeezed off a round. It found its mark. The man clutched his gut, stumbled over the parapet and toppled into the void beyond. Beatrix watched as he plunged down, slamming through a makeshift wooden roof and then crashing into a chicken run, the mangy birds scattering and squawking their dissatisfaction.

  The three survivors drew back and then ran for the door.

  She was almost dry. Two rounds left.

  “We need to hurry,” Beatrix said to Grace. “We need to beat them to the bottom.”

  #

  SHE YANKED the door open and led the way into the room beyond. It was empty. There was a cloth on the table. She took it, tore it down the middle, and wound it around her left hand to try to stem the blood.

  The door was locked so she drew back and kicked, shattering the lock so that she could pull the door open. The hallway outside was similar to the one in the building that they had just escaped, and she navigated accordingly. There was an elevator shaft with a flight of stairs that wrapped around it. She knew that the elevator would be too slow, so she started down the stairs. Grace followed behind. Beatrix took them two at a time, drawing away from the girl. She reached the bottom first, pressed herself against the wall and peeked out. The road outside was busy with pedestrians and traffic. The entrance to her building was flung open and the first of the three men appeared there, glancing out with caution on his face.

  Grace reached the bottom. Beatrix took her hand and led her to a small storage room that reached into the space beneath the stairs. She pressed the girl against the wall and followed her until they were both out of sight of anyone who might come in through the door.

  She waited.

  The door opened.

  Voices.

  Three different voices. Angry. One voice angrier than the others, barking orders in Cantonese.

  She heard footsteps clattering up the stairs.

  Two sets of feet.

  Two men going up.

  She waited.

  The third was standing guard below.

  She held up her hand to tell Grace to stay where she was, took a breath, and then slipped out o
f cover. The third man was standing with his back to the stairs, looking out into the street below. He had a meat cleaver in his hand. He hadn’t seen or heard her. She moved to him, looped her right arm around his neck, placed her left on his temple and yanked his head up and to the right. His neck broke with an audible crack and his body went limp. She dragged the corpse backwards and dumped it in the alcove. Then she pressed herself against the wall, out of sight of the stairs once more.

  She heard the sound of footsteps coming down from above.

  She waited until it sounded like they were on the final flight, leading down to the lobby.

  “Li?”

  Beatrix turned out of cover. The two were halfway down to the lobby.

  “Li?”

  Two rounds left. She couldn’t afford to miss.

  She fired. The triads collapsed and slid down the remaining few steps. Beatrix grabbed the nearest man beneath the shoulders and dragged him into the storage room. She returned for the second man. Grace stared at the three bodies with her hand clasped over her mouth.

  “Come on,” she said, taking the girl’s hand and leading her into the busy street outside.

  #

  BEATRIX TOOK GRACE back to the building they had just escaped.

  “What are we doing?”

  They were out of sight of the street. Beatrix paused and turned the girl to face her.

  “Grace, listen to me. They were looking for something.”

  The girl frowned.

  “Did your sister hide something?”

  She shook her head, confused.

  “They said something about a video.”

  Grace paused. “There is something.” A frown crinkled her brow as she searched for the right word. “Something for computer.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “Yes. I show you.”

  Beatrix dared not trust the lift, so they climbed the stairs. She moved as quickly as she could.

  They reached the landing. The door to Beatrix’s apartment was badly damaged. The area around the lock had been blown out by the shotgun blast, and other holes studded it from where she had fired through it. Facing it, the door to Grace’s flat was still open. It, too, was damaged from the kicking that it had received.

  Beatrix went inside first. It had been turned upside down. Drawers had been emptied out, the chairs overturned, pots and pans thrown about in the tiny kitchen. Grace scurried over to the bedroom, lifted the futon and pushed it against the wall, and knelt down. She pushed down on one of the floorboards and one end popped up. She slid her fingertips beneath it, lifted it clear and reached into the cavity beneath.

  She took out a small waterproof bag.

  “Here,” she said. “My sister put this here. I saw her. Is it important?”

  Beatrix took the bag. Inside was a thumb drive.

  “It might be.”

  Grace nodded. Beatrix put it in her pocket and led the way back outside.

  She went back into her flat, telling Grace to wait on the landing. The two dead men were sprawled across the floor, blood and brain matter congealing around their shattered heads in gory halos. The apartment was rented under a false name, and she only ever paid cash. It would be difficult to trace it back to her and she didn’t have time to dispose of the bodies. They would have to stay here.

  She gathered her bag and packed the things that she knew she would need. She removed her hardback copy of Bleak House from the shelf and opened it up. Two magazines for the Glock were nestled inside a niche that she had carved into the pages. She ejected the spent magazine and pushed in one of the fresh ones.

  She put the second magazine into her pocket, collected Grace’s bag, put the pistol back inside her waistband and took one final look around.

  Keep moving.

  You’ll never settle down.

  Not until you find Isabella.

  She went outside and led the way down the stairs to the street below.

  CHAPTER NINE

  BEATRIX AND GRACE stopped at a pharmacy. Beatrix bought a bottle of disinfectant, a pair of tweezers and a packet of surgical strips. Then they stopped in the nearby McDonald’s. Beatrix bought Grace a Happy Meal, told her to stay and eat it, and then went into the bathroom. She unwound the wrap and examined the damage to her left hand. Now that the blood had stopped, it did not look as bad as she had feared. The cuts, although deep, had missed the tendons, and she had full movement. She held her hand over the sink and, gritting her teeth, emptied the disinfectant over it. She examined the flesh carefully, using the tweezers to pull out the tiny fragments of glass that had lodged there, and then sealed the cuts with the surgical strips. She opened and closed her fist and flexed her fingers. The damage was minimal. She had been lucky.

  She led the way to Sheung Wan and took a room at the Sohotel. The place catered to backpackers and those on a budget. The room was small, just over a hundred square feet, with wall-to-wall windows doing a little to make up for the lack of space. Beatrix knew the area. Possession Point, the spot where the British landed and took possession of Hong Kong in 1841, was in nearby Hollywood Road Park. The park was now a pleasant green where locals practised t’ai chi. Sheung Wan was also within walking distance of the Macau Ferry Terminal for outlying islands, and was served by an MTR station. If they needed to get out in a hurry, there would be plenty of options.

  Beatrix made sure that Grace was comfortable and then told her that she needed to step out for a moment.

  The girl’s eyes went wide with fear. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be five minutes away. Don’t worry, Grace. I’m the only person who knows where you are. The triads won’t find you if you stay here. Can you do that?”

  “How long will you be?”

  “An hour. No more.”

  The girl’s jaw stiffened and she nodded.

  “Stay in the room,” Beatrix repeated. She took the Do Not Disturb sign, opened the door, and hooked it over the handle. “Don’t open the door, not for anyone. Okay?”

  She nodded again.

  Beatrix smiled at her, patted her pocket to confirm that she still had the thumb drive, and left the room.

  #

  THE HOTEL was at 139 Bonham Strand. Beatrix asked for directions to a place where she could access the Internet. The woman behind the desk suggested the business centre, but Beatrix asked for somewhere outside the hotel. The woman shrugged, and, with a little buzz of amused disdain, pointed out of the front door and south to Aberdeen Street. Beatrix thanked her and walked the six hundred metres to the 908 Cyber Café.

  She paid for a terminal. There was no time to use the Facebook dead-drop. There was a payphone on the wall in the back of the café and she used it to call Chau, telling him where she was and that she needed to see him.

  #

  CHAU ARRIVED thirty minutes later.

  “What is happening?”

  She explained how the triads had visited the apartment block again and how, after they had forced their way into her flat, she had killed them all and escaped.

  “All?”

  “I didn’t have much choice, Chau.”

  His face went pale and she saw his fingers begin to tremble against the table.

  “How many?”

  “Six.”

  “Six!”

  She nodded.

  “I cannot clean six triad!” he hissed.

  She leaned forwards against the table. “I don’t want you to clean them, Chau. They will have been found by now. I’m not proposing to go back there.”

  “Then you must leave Hong Kong.” He frowned for a minute, becoming even paler as he recognised the consequences. “Maybe I must leave Hong Kong.”

  She reached across and gripped his wrist. “Calm down, Chau. I need you to relax.”

  “How can I relax—”

  “Because it’s not very likely that Ying will know who I am. He’s never seen me. The men he sent to find the girl are all dead. They can’t describe me to him, and, even i
f they could, how would he know who I am?”

  “Blonde Western woman, very dangerous, good with a gun? I think he will guess.”

  “He won’t know yet.”

  “Then he will ask your landlord.”

  “My landlord has never seen me.”

  “Then he will ask your neighbours. They will have noticed. You are different. You will stand out.”

  “We’re fine for now, Chau.”

  “For now?”

  “For now.”

  He looked at her with suspicion. “Why do I think I am not going to like what you are about to say?”

  “Those men were looking for something at the flat. That’s why the first man was there. I think I have it.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the thumb drive.

  “What is on it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  She took the stick and pushed it into the computer’s USB port. It detected the drive and displayed the single file that had been stored there.

  It was labelled in Mandarin:

  趙

  It had a .mov extension and a suggested duration of three minutes.

  “What does it say?”

  He squinted at the screen. “It is a name. Zhào.”

  “Mean anything to you?”

  “No. It is a common name.”

  Beatrix had chosen a computer in the corner of the room that was not overlooked and, after glancing over her shoulder to double-check, she clicked the file. The default video viewer opened and the video played.

  The footage showed a bedroom. Beatrix paused for a moment before she realised that she recognised it. It was the bedroom in Grace’s apartment. She recalled the patterned sheets on the futon and the picture of a vase of flowers that had been hung on the wall. The camera was placed in the corner of the room and was at a low height. She guessed that it had been concealed in something, a bag, perhaps. A blind had been pulled down over the single small window and the room was dark. The camera was not particularly good and it struggled to adapt to the dim light.