Dragon Head - A Beatrix Rose Thriller: Hong Kong Stories Volume 1 (Beatrix Rose's Hong Kong Stories Book 3)

by Dawson, Mark

  “To bring you to him.”

  His mouth gaped open. “But, you—”

  She sighed impatiently. “I’m not going to do that, Chau.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Mr. Gao needs to see the video.”

  “What good will that do?”

  “Ying is just a Dai Lo?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just a local boss?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need to see his boss. Maybe Gao can set that up for me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JACKIE CHAU DELIVERED. He called two hours later to say that Zhào Gao was staying at the Shangri-La. The police kept an eye on important businessmen like him, and a small bribe had been enough for Chau’s contact to provide the tip. Beatrix called the Intercontinental and, using a nom de guerre, reserved a room. It was expensive, but she didn’t care. It was close to the Shangri-La and convenience was going to be more important than parsimoniousness. Then she made her preparations.

  First, she told Chau that she was going to need two fake passports with visas that allowed onward passage into China. She knew that he had contacts that he could use. It was simple administrative fraud, the wheels greased with a small bribe. She told him to take the cost plus ten per cent out of the significant amount that he still owed her. She told him that she would need the passports quickly, within twelve hours. He clucked his tongue, suggesting that would add to the price. Beatrix told him to take whatever he needed from her money. She didn’t care. She just wanted it done.

  She visited the mall and purchased a simple stylish black dress, a pair of high-heeled shoes and a Louis Vuitton bag that was big enough to hold her sneakers, a change of clothes and her Glock. She bought a razor-sharp kitchen knife. Then she bought a black natural hair wig and a pair of clear glasses. Finally, she bought a prepaid cell phone with a data allowance.

  She checked into her room at the Intercontinental, stripped to her underwear and went through into the bathroom. She put on the short bob wig and arranged it until she was happy with how it looked. Then, she took the cell phone and downloaded the video of Zhào Gao from her Dropbox account. She reviewed the footage again, fixing his appearance in her mind. Satisfied, she put the phone into the Louis Vuitton bag. She dropped her Glock and the knife into the bag, too.

  When she was done, she put on the black dress and the clear spectacles. She regarded herself in the full-length mirror that was fixed to the back of the wardrobe door.

  She looked good.

  More importantly, she looked different.

  She collected her bag, locked the door and had the bellboy hail her a cab for the Shangri-La.

  #

  BEATRIX TOLD the driver to stop a block away from the hotel. She collected her things, paid him, and bought a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the kiosk opposite. She wasn’t much of a smoker, but she knew that she might need an excuse to stand outside during surveillance, and a cigarette was as good an excuse as any to be outdoors.

  The Shangri-La was a fine hotel. It was situated on prime Kowloon real estate and rooms started at $600 a night. There was a line of exclusive taxis outside, waiting to be ushered forward by the bellhops. Limousines jockeyed for space, ferrying their occupants to the front door where the men and women were immediately fawned over by efficiently obsequious staff. She walked to the door with a confident stride, nodding at the doorman who opened the door for her, and made her way into the lobby.

  The room was huge. Stunningly impressive. Three storeys tall with four massive crystal chandeliers cascading from the distant ceiling. An old banyan tree had been nurtured in the wide space before the reception desk. Voices were quiet and reverent. Staff circulated with brisk orderliness. A grand piano was positioned at the far end of the room with an arrangement of architecturally impressive blooms in a crystal vase. Sofas and Chinese rosewood chairs were arrayed around small tables, guests tipping waiters as they delivered trays of tea and coffee. A double-wide staircase swept up to the next floor.

  She made her way farther inside, assessing the security. The doormen looked vigilant, but the room was big enough that she could put distance between herself and them. Discreet omnidirectional security cameras were fixed to the ceiling, and she could see that the coverage would make it impossible to find a blind spot. Never mind.

  She located the elevator lobby and found an empty sofa that had the right combination of discretion and position. It was close enough that it offered an unobstructed view of the elevators, yet not so close to the desk or the doors that she would attract too much unwanted attention.

  There was a copy of the South China Morning Post on the table in front of the sofa. She picked it up and pretended to read. She looked over the top of the page, examining the comings and goings.

  A waiter in a neat black uniform stood smartly to the side of the sofa. “Can I get you anything, madam?”

  She looked at his name badge—Raoul—and smiled at him. “I’d love a cup of tea, please.”

  “Of course, madam. What would you prefer?”

  “Earl Grey.”

  The man smiled, said that he would be right back, and set off.

  Beatrix kept her attention on the elevators and examined the faces of the men who were emerging from them. She had fixed Gao’s appearance in her mind and was confident that she would recognise him.

  The clientele here all smelled of money. The men were dressed in expensive suits, many of the older ones accessorising with girlfriends who were improbably young. The women clicked and clacked across the marble floor on immoderate heels, dressed lavishly well. It looked like the perfect kind of place for someone like Gao to stay, but there was no sign of him.

  Beatrix hoped that Chau’s intelligence was accurate. Every minute she spent waiting for the man was a minute less for Grace.

  Raoul returned with a silver platter and a mug of tea. He poured it for her and left it on the table. He handed her the chit, she paid it and added a five-dollar tip. He acknowledged her generosity with a shallow nod and left her alone again.

  She didn’t touch the tea for the first ten minutes and, when she finally sipped it, it was starting to cool. That didn’t matter. It was only a prop. She wasn’t thirsty, and if she drank too much, she would need the bathroom. That wasn’t possible when she was the only operative conducting the surveillance.

  The tea was stone cold when she sipped it again.

  And then she saw the man she was waiting for.

  Zhào Gao was in a group of five. Him, two young girls, two guards.

  He was reasonably tall for a Chinese, with a slender build. He was in his late sixties, but he looked younger. The skin on his face was taut; it had obviously been surgically improved. As one of the girls put her hand on his elbow and said something to him, his smile did not crinkle his brow.

  They paused at the desk. Beatrix went by them, nodding her thanks as the doorman opened the door for her. She took the cigarettes from her bag.

  A stretch Hummer was bullying its way to the front of the queue of taxis. She scoped it quickly: a black paint job that glittered in the light, big truck tyres and twenty-inch custom chrome rims, blacked-out windows to all aspects, hazard lights blinking on and off.

  A Land Rover Discovery followed.

  Chau’s gaudy Mercedes CLA was parked half a block away. She saw the flash of red paint against the side of the road.

  Beatrix lit the cigarette and put it to her lips as the door of the hotel was opened for the group, the doorman giving a full bow. She stayed twenty feet away. A driver emerged from the Hummer and opened the door. Gao and the two women got inside. The Discovery pulled up behind the limousine and the two guards got inside.

  Beatrix took out her cell phone and called Chau.

  “Yes?”

  “Gao’s on the move. You see the Hummer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Follow it. I’ll be behind.”

  She put the phone away and strolled to the two cars b
efore they could pull away. The Discovery was new, and immaculately clean inside and out. The three men were big and she heard them speak in German as she passed the open window. Private security, she thought. Would they be armed? Very likely. She would need to neutralise them regardless of whether they were or not. She reached the Hummer just as it was rolling away. The back windows were opaque, but one had been opened a little. She could hear raucous conversation from inside before the vehicle pulled into traffic and the laughter was absorbed into the constant hum of the city.

  Chau followed. He was completely unsuitable to mount a successful surveillance pursuit, but, since he would have been even less suitable to run the surveillance inside the hotel, she had concluded that it was the lesser of two evils.

  She dropped the cigarette into a drain, flagged down a cab, gave the driver a fifty, and told him to follow Chau’s car.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAU RELAYED the location of the Hummer. They were headed north. He told her that he had guessed their destination when they were half a mile away. When he reported that the Hummer had stopped outside the Lisboa, he did so with some satisfaction. He said that it was a triad gambling club, tolerated by the police because the management was exceptionally generous in the size of the kickbacks that they made so that they would look the other way.

  “What about the Land Rover?”

  “There is parking lot. It is there.”

  “And the men?”

  “There are street vendors. Men have stopped for food. Must be hungry.”

  “Fine. Drive on, park up and then come back on foot. You know what to do.”

  “Yes, Beatrix.”

  She told the driver to stop, got out and walked the rest of the way.

  #

  BEATRIX SAW the three men. They were sitting at a picnic table, eating from three cartons of noodles. They had arranged themselves so that they were facing the casino, able to observe the comings and goings. She heard German again. They were laughing and joking. They had the look of soldiers, with large builds and short cropped hair. One of the men had a cell phone on the table. Beatrix guessed that they would wait here until Gao needed them. The casino would have its own security. They would only be required again when he came out. He would call and they would resume their duties.

  The parking lot was behind them. The Discovery was taller than the other cars around it and she found it without difficulty. It was parked so that it could not be obstructed should they need to drive away quickly, but it was far enough away that she knew that they wouldn’t be able to see her if she was careful.

  There was a Mercedes SLK parked alongside it. She ducked down to a low crouch and made her way between the two vehicles. She would have liked to have been able to pop the bonnet so that she could get to the engine, but that would have been too risky. Instead she reached into her bag, taking out the knife and slashing the rear tyre. She moved to the front of the car and slashed that tyre, too. Air hissed out as the tyres deflated, the heavy car slowly lurching to the side. Staying low, Beatrix went around to the other side of the car and slashed those tyres, too. Ensuring that she was unobserved, she dropped the knife back into her bag and stayed below the line of the cars until she was several spaces away from the disabled Land Rover. Then she stood and made her way back to the casino.

  The three guards were still at the picnic table.

  #

  THE CASINO was exclusive. The door was staffed by two immaculately turned out guards, and Beatrix couldn’t be sure that they would let her inside.

  She skirted the building, eventually finding a door that looked as if it was used by the staff and suppliers that were making deliveries. There was a keypad lock on the door. Two staff members, wearing uniforms with the casino’s livery in gold brocade, were smoking cigarettes outside.

  Beatrix took her own cigarettes from her bag, put one between her lips and lit it. She took her cell phone and pressed it to her ear, pretending to make a call. She paced back and forth, raising her voice in anger. The two members of staff regarded her, shared a comment in Cantonese that she couldn’t translate, and then went back to their cigarettes.

  She made sure that she was watching when the two stood, treading the cigarettes underfoot. One of them entered the code on the keypad. 3526. Beatrix saw it clearly, waited until they had gone inside, waited another minute, and then entered the code herself.

  The lock popped and the door opened.

  She went inside.

  #

  THE CASINO was heavy with smoke, the atmosphere thick with the scent of perfume and alcohol. Beatrix found it dizzying and a little nauseating as she passed out of the corridor that led to the bathrooms and into the main room. The place was as exclusive as she had expected it to be. It was housed in two large rooms. The first room had four poker tables. The second room had two roulette wheels and three blackjack tables. A lobby between the two rooms was equipped with a luxurious bar with a granite surface, the shelves behind it stacked with premium-brand spirits. Beatrix went to the bar and ordered an orange juice. The barman served it with wordless efficiency, took her twenty-dollar bill and did not return her any change.

  She observed. The chairs around the tables were all occupied and each table bore a small fortune in stacked chips. The clientele was a mixture of Chinese and foreign nationals and the atmosphere was excitable and tense. She could hear the rattle of the balls as they were spun around the roulette wheels, the clatter of chips as they were tossed into the middle. Results were met with exclamations of pleasure or distaste. The bigger wins were greeted with whoops and cheers, but these were no more than occasional. The trend was for rueful sighs and philosophical comments as the house won again and again.

  The men wore suits and the women cocktail dresses. Beatrix was glad of the dress and heels. She would be able to stand a little scrutiny, but she knew that she could not afford to draw unnecessary attention to herself. There were surveillance domes over each of the tables and she knew that their footage would be analysed by staff looking for anything suspicious. There would be members of staff in the crowd, too, keeping an eye on things and making sure that the casino’s losses were kept within acceptable bounds. They would regard the guests with appraising eyes. She nursed her drink and concentrated on fading into the background.

  She assessed the layout of the establishment. She knew that there was a way out through the back, but she didn’t plan on using it again. There were doors left and right for the male and female bathrooms. She guessed that the door behind the bar must lead to a storeroom. A flight of marble stairs led down to the main entrance and the street outside.

  She considered her options. She only needed a moment alone with Gao. She knew that she could be persuasive, and she also knew that he would be pliable once he saw the video that she had downloaded to her phone. It might be possible to do it in the casino. That would be a lot easier than the alternative. Perhaps, if he went to the bathroom, she could follow and intercept him. There would be an attendant inside. If she was going to speak to him, it would have to be in the corridor. She would have to persuade him very quickly before he could summon security.

  She mulled it over and dismissed it. Too risky. Too many variables. It would need good fortune, and she wasn’t in the business of relying on luck.

  She moved through the room with the poker tables and into the room with the blackjack and roulette. She passed the cashier’s desk first. The man, owlish in wire-framed spectacles, sat behind a screen with piles of notes and chips arranged on shelves. She saw notes of all denominations, HK $500 and $1000 bills. The cashier did not appear to have anything with which to defend himself, but the guards were nearby and she suspected that they were armed.

  Gao was sitting at one of the roulette wheels, the two girls on either side of him. She walked up. The wheel, table and chairs were on a raised pedestal, surrounded by a rail that reached as high as her stomach. There were others watching and Gao was putting on quite a show. He was presiding o
ver a generous stack of chips and they watched him push several thousand dollars’ worth to the centre of the table, spreading them over a handful of black numbers.

  Beatrix watched as the croupier collected the ivory ball in his right hand. The man gave the wheel a controlled twist clockwise with the same hand, and then flicked the ball round the outer rim of the wheel anticlockwise, against the spin. He called for final bets. Gao smiled at his girls, flipping each of them a five-hundred-dollar chip and grinning as they leaned over the table to place them on their lucky numbers.

  The ball settled. Black. The croupier scraped the chips across the table, divvied up the appropriate winnings, and passed them back again. Gao had won.

  Beatrix didn’t look at Gao too closely. She didn’t want him to notice, but she did want to get an idea about him and how he operated. Was he drunk? High? What was his attitude like? Aggressive? Relaxed? She assessed it all and then, when she had been there long enough, she faded back to the bar. She could still watch the proceedings at the table from there.

  A man sidled up to her. “Hello,” he said.

  She ignored him.

  “Haven’t seen you here before.”

  She ignored him again.

  He didn’t take the hint. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  This was unwelcome. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene. But she relented. Perhaps it could be played to her advantage. The man, whoever he was, looked comfortable here. Perhaps he was a regular. She could have a drink with him. He might make for some useful cover. The alternative was to stay on her own, and that would start to look odd.

  “Orange juice,” she said.

  “Nothing stronger?”

  “I don’t drink when I’m playing.”

  “What’s your game?”

  She put a smile on her face. “Roulette. Yours?”

  “Same.”

  They watched the table as they sipped their drinks.

  “You know him?” he asked her.

  “Not really.”