Lights Out

by Stopforth, W. J.

  Lights Out

  By W J Stopforth

  First Edition

  Copyright 2015 by W J Stopforth

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  ISBN-10: 1519190832

  ISBN-13: 978-1519190833

  In the end, we only regret the things we didn’t do.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 1

  Ryan Harper pulled on the roller-blind cord. It was stuck again. With a resigned deep sigh he gave it a second harder tug whipping up the blind and pulling the cord promptly from between his fingers. He pressed his forehead gently on the cool glass and looked out at the heavy overcast sky that seemed to hug the shapely hills and jutting high rises of Hong Kong, expertly wearing the smog like a grey fur coat.

  Ryan breathed in deeply then slowly released his warm breath onto the cold window, fogging it up until he could no longer see the view. He breathed in deeply again only to catch his breath mid-way as the first hacking cough of the day consumed his chest and burned the back of his throat.

  I really must stop smoking, he chastised himself, knowing as usual that it was an empty promise.

  Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand Ryan made his way to the shower. The cool slate tiles felt good against his bare feet. The sudden blast of the hot water spiked and stabbed at his skin waking him up completely. He let out a groan as he felt the foggy effects of a hangover begin to vice grip his skull. He leaned back into the full stream of the shower in an attempt to wash the feeling away. Closing his eyes for just a moment Ryan let the water flow over his face, taking in little mouthfuls swirling it around his dry, dehydrated mouth before spitting it out like a cherub in a fountain.

  Ryan Harper had worked for the Response Security Group (RSG) in Central London for several years. He’d been there since graduating from University, having worked his way up from a trainee Security Supervisor, learning the ropes, to a fully-fledged Security Consultant. His job entailed speaking daily to leading retail banks across the Country, advising them on all aspects of security. He oversaw the installment and operation of in-house security systems through to the daily delivery of cash, cards and checkbooks.

  The Company paid enough to offer Ryan a comfortable lifestyle and a nice car and his salary was topped up with a generous bonus each year, but Ryan was finding it a struggle to remain motivated and excited about his career. He had reached a plateau. He was bored.

  His social life was not much better. Most of his friends were now either married, getting married, or busy having families of their own. His Friday and Saturday nights were becoming non-existent, as one by one his friends disappeared, spending more of their time instead with their new wives, or new families and not in their local pub after work with him. Ryan would get the occasional token invite to a dinner party, or a weekend BBQ, but recently he felt less inclined to accept. They invited him because they felt sorry for him, or were trying to set him up with an array of unsuitable single female friends, so that he could also become part of the club. Then his friends could legitimately see him more often.

  It had crept up on him slowly, but finally the realization had sunk in that he was thirty, single and very unhappy with his current life.

  Ryan’s transfer to Hong Kong was perfectly timed. RSG had brokered a groundbreaking deal with The Asia World Bank, which thrust the company into the Global arena. The Company had made the decision to tackle one of the busiest banking City’s in the World, and knew that if they did this successfully, that it would open up all kinds of doors into the retail banking sector across Asia. RSG needed ‘one of their own’, so his boss had said, and they felt that Harper was perfect for the job and ready to take on the challenge. He would be given full carte blanche on the team that he would need to employ and would be responsible for building close relationships with the existing Managers and Directors of the Bank.

  Ryan was reminded several times before leaving London that it was a high-pressure job, not that he needed the reminder. He was feeling the weight of responsibility as the time was drawing close to moving. He knew that his performance would be closely watched by John McIntyre, a fifty-something British expatriate, John had been with the World Asia Bank as their Security Director for over ten years. A formidable man who took his job very seriously. John carried out his duties with great pride. It had taken a lot for the Bank’s Directors to convince him that it was time to outsource to a new security company to satisfy its members. Finally after months of continued pressure he had been persuaded to make the change. With a clean slate with no attempted robberies or breaches in security for his entire career, John was intent that it was to remain that way and spent a long time weighing up the pros and cons of RSG and Ryan Harper. This didn’t worry Ryan. He was confident in RSG. He also knew that if he worked well with John, and continued to build confidence and continue the success rate, it would open up all kinds of opportunities with other Asian Banks.

  After all, John McIntyre knew everyone there was to know in the Hong Kong banking arena.

  Ryan pressed his hands against the glass and dropped his head down letting the steaming water massage his back. The vice grip on his skull loosened a little leaving behind the gentle throb of a headache. He stood there for a few moments enjoying the heat as the water gathered and flowed between his shoulder blades forming a rapid before finally hitting the shower floor and spiraling down the drain.

  His thoughts wandered back to his first week in Hong Kong.

  Ryan embraced his new expat life absorbing everything around him like a sponge. He spent most his spare time exploring on foot, walking the city like a tourist and taking in all of the Asian influences and what was left of a pre-handover Hong Kong.

  He found the local Chinese culture loud and crass when they spoke. To him it sounded like a chatter of noisy birds. He discovered that he loved the wet markets and the haggling process, the hustle bustle of tradesmen bringing in trays of fresh fish and vegetables. At times the smells in the markets were so strong that he had to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve to stop himself from gagging but still he found it fascinating, colourful and vibrant.

  In total contrast Ryan found the city modern and cosmopolitan. He discovered traditional Chinese di pai dongs nestled in between modern restaurants offering every type of food imaginable. To Ryan, Hong Kong was a City that would never go hungry.

  Most of all Ryan was drawn to the architecture, the mixture of the old and the new. At night the high-rise buildings were all lit up like a Christmas tree sending shafts of light hundreds of feet into the night sky for every
one to see, blotting out the stars. The buildings were a giant mass of glass and metal, and had mostly been built and designed using the rules of feng shui. Ryan had picked up quickly that a good number of Chinese people were superstitious. He learned that desks must be placed always facing an open door. He saw that aquariums and fish tanks were present in almost every reception area with rare and expensive breeds of fish swimming around opulently decorated tanks. Even the buildings appeared to have been erected in such a way to encourage and bring prosperity and good luck to all those who worked behind the glass walls and metal structures. It was all part of a culture rich in history and beliefs, which made it a unique melting pot.

  Ryan’s only task during his first week was to find himself a suitable place to live.

  RSG had placed him in a fully furnished serviced apartment in a fashionable area in the heart of the city. It was close enough to the bars and restaurants favored by other foreigners. Ryan knew that it would be fine short-term, but he was keen to get settled, and to finally ship his London belongings across the Ocean to start his new Hong Kong life. He was tired of living out of a suitcase.

  After viewing an assortment of apartments he finally found the perfect one.

  Hugging the side of Hong Kong Island’s tallest mountain, The Peak, sat Cameron Mansions. It was a spacious modern apartment building with views towards the city in one direction, and breath-taking views of the outlying islands and the Ocean in the other direction.

  Part of Ryan’s package included his relocation from London, a monthly housing allowance and a cash lump sum for him to use as he pleased to furnish his new home. As Ryan wrote his signature on the new lease, there was no doubt in his mind that he really had landed on his feet. RSG had never sent anyone this far afield before and they obviously wanted to make a good impression.

  Six months into his new job and it was going well. Ryan had managed to employ a strong local team comprising of on-site security officers, site security supervisors, and two security managers that reported directly into him. They all worked well together as a team and so far he had found John McIntyre to be tough, but also open to suggestions for improvements. Ryan was happy with their progress, as was RSG in London.

  Finally showered and dressed Ryan checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was broad-shouldered and measured just over 6’ft 2” making him tall for Hong Kong standards. He often found himself peering across the top of a sea of heads whenever he stood in an elevator. He was in reasonable shape and made good use of the banks’ in-house gym during his lunch hour and ran outdoors whenever he could.

  Ryan held onto the bathroom sink and leaned into the mirror to get a closer look at his face. Dragging his fingers tips across his cheeks and chin, he pulled at the loose skin under his bright blue eyes. He was handsome, his skin a little worn from too much sun, reminding him of days spent on the beach. His blonde hair was still thick and it curled around the nape of his neck. He had a lazy smile, which his mother used to tease him for and women seemed to like. Ryan spoke out-loud to his reflection.

  “You need to slow down, stop burning the candle at both ends.” He said, and then smiled at himself. He sounded just like his Mother.

  Dressed in his usual uniform of dark grey pants and a crisp white shirt, and black tie, Ryan gave the mirror one final glance. Satisfied with his overall look, he stepped out into the lift lobby closing the door behind him and pressed the lift call button. He rummaged into his back pants pocket until his fingers found the cigarette packet. He pulled it out hastily, eagerly anticipating his first smoke of the day.

  He reached the bottom of the lift and stepped out into the foyer, cigarette smoke dissolving quickly behind him leaving only the unmistakable aroma of fresh nicotine.

  “Good morning Mr Harper’. Ryan was greeted by the building caretaker, Mr Wu, “You know very well there is no smoking allowed in the lift Sir?” he said to Ryan as he playfully wagged his finger.

  The old caretaker, now well into his sixties had worked in the building for the best part of forty years, a gentle old man, slightly hunched over now, his white hair poorly dyed jet black, leaving obvious roots, which were easy for Ryan to see in his lofty position. Mr Wu’s English was impeccable with hardly a trace of a Chinese accent. He appeared always smiling and happy and ready to help.

  Ryan flashed him his best smile.

  “Right you are Mr Wu, I’ll try to remember in future!” Ryan said as he walked towards the exit of the building.

  Mr Wu gave a resigned smile and shook his head, slowly turning his old body and walking back to his small office.

  As Ryan walked outside he looked up at the heavy overcast sky. He paused for a moment trying to decide whether to run back for his umbrella, but looking at his watch decided against it. He continued his usual walk down the concrete sloped driveway and on to the busy main road.

  A sea of bright red taxis greeted Ryan. Hong Kong Taxis were always in abundance, driving up and down the mountain road, picking up and dropping off. There was never a shortage. Within seconds Ryan had hailed a taxi and swiftly slid into the back seat of the red Toyota entering an entirely different world. The back passenger seats were covered with clear PVC to protect against spills and stains of customers. Miniature figurines of cartoon characters with heads that bobbed and moved as the car swerved, adorned the dashboard almost obscuring the drivers view. There was a small wrapped bunch of tuber roses dangling from the rear view mirror with a tiny tinkering bell that rang as Ryan closed the passenger door. Ryan suddenly found the strong floral aroma mixed with the faint smell of cigarettes over powering. His hangover didn’t help matters. It made the interior feel dark and dingy and he instantly began to feel nauseous. He wound down his side window to try and get some air, whilst he gave his directions to the driver in an attempt to get the car moving. “Queens Road Central. The World Asia Bank please”.

  The driver looked at Ryan in his rear view mirror and offered a faint silent nod before sniffing back phlegm, letting it swirl in his mouth, winding down the drivers side window and expertly spitting the contents on to the road below. Suppressing the urge to vomit, Ryan quickly scanned the inside of the taxi to find something to distract himself. He noticed a jar of Chinese tea precariously perched in the center compartment between the two front seats, and focusing on the tea leaves he watched as they twisted and turned in the water, following the movements and sways of the taxi as it swerved and cornered down towards the City.

  Chapter 2

  As Ryan’s taxi neared the Asia World Bank, the traffic started to slow down. The taxi radio crackled and jumped to life, barking loud instructions in Cantonese to any available driver listening in. Ryan could see that the traffic was starting to gridlock, and he only had a short distance left to walk. Still feeling slightly nauseous, Ryan asked the driver to stop. He quickly paid, relieved to no longer be twisting and turning and stepped out onto the pavement. He took in some deep breaths and immediately started to feel the nausea ebb away. He made his way to a nearby newsstand and purchased his daily Morning Post, paying with loose coins from his pocket. Ryan felt a piece of paper under his fingers folded into a small neat square. He fumbled for several seconds for the correct change, paid the vendor and walked towards Starbucks to order his usual take out latte.

  Ryan smiled to himself as he pulled out the folded piece of paper from his pocket, remembering the evening that he had finally managed to get her number. He unraveled the note and read the stylish handwriting in black ink.

  Lily 9304 8621 x

  Ryan placed the note back in his pocket. I’ll call later, he thought.

  Ryan had been walking for just a short distance, enjoying the effects of the coffee as it began to clear the fog in his head and thought about the day ahead. It was always so noisy in the Central Business District, but today the surrounding noise appeared even worse than usual. At seven o’clock in the morning the taxis were already starting to fill up the roads. Delivery vans were double parking. Ryan noted
the rubble and building debris was already being loaded onto a pick-up truck down a narrow side street next to the Bank. People on the pavement around him were rushing to and fro in all directions. Their heads down and focused as they walking deliberately and quickly, oblivious to other people around them. It was a cacophony of taxi horns, people talking and shouting and the sound of the trams running alongside the cars. Ryan started to find the noise unbearable, when without warning, a loud CRASH echoed behind Ryan silencing it all.

  Ryan jumped and swiftly turned to see what had caused the noise. One of the red taxi’s, in a hurry to avoid the gridlock had ran into the back of another taxi, leaving the metal bumper twisted and separated from the back of the car. The two Chinese drivers were already out of their seats shouting and waving their arms in the air like two passionate Italians. The two taxis had blocked part of the main road, making the gridlock complete. The sound of the horns combined with the raised voices began to increase again in volume like a crescendo in a symphony.

  Once Ryan had satisfied his curiosity along with many other onlookers, he turned and continued to walk towards the Bank entrance, happy to be leaving the chaos and noise behind him. As he drew closer he became aware of other angry raised voices, this time from inside the Bank. Through the reception glass he could see two of his security officers talking to a man with his back to Ryan.

  Ryan slowed down his pace and slipped his hand into his back pocket. He could feel his mobile phone, which made him feel better somehow.

  He stepped a little closer to the entrance and could see more clearly now. One of the security officers was talking into a radio; the other officer was still in debate with the man. Ryan could see that the conversation was getting heated.

  He paused for a moment, catching his breath and then entered the reception area behind them hoping to be able to help. The man with his back to Ryan was shouting in rapid Cantonese, he was dressed like one of the building contractors. He was short and slightly overweight, wearing an ill-fitting pale grey overall that was clearly too big for him. In his left hand he was carrying a small black duffle bag. The old man was gripping it so tightly that Ryan could see that his knuckles had turned white. Looking down he noticed that he wore old black plimsoles on his feet.