The intercom buzzer pierced the silence waking Ryan with a start. Blinking away the sleep, he sat upright and saw that his apartment was in pitch dark with the exception of the brilliant glow from the silenced TV that flickered, making shapes and shadows across his living room walls. He turned his wristwatch toward the bright screen so that he could check the time. It was exactly 8pm. Ryan stood up and made his way over to the intercom, switching on lights as he went.
He pressed the button.
“Hello?”
‘Mr Harper’ I have Mr Black for you.’ Mr Wu’s familiar voice crackled through the speaker to Ryan.
‘Send him up, thank you Mr Wu’. Ryan said.
He put his door on latch, and walked back to his living room.
A few moments later Ryan heard the tell tale creak of the wooden floorboard outside his front door, followed by the sound of the heavy Oak door opening and footsteps entering his hallway.
“Come in Rob, I’m in the living room”. Ryan yelled in the direction of the door.
Still in his work attire and carrying a black gym bag, Rob Black entered looking every inch like the City banker that he was.
Sitting down heavily on the big leather armchair and dropping the bag next to him on the floor, Rob loosened his tie with one hand and popped open the top button of his shirt. He leaned back allowing his body to mold into soft cushions. Without saying a word to his friend, Rob leaned over toward Ryan and plucked his freshly lit cigarette from his fingers, and placed it straight to his mouth. He took a long slow dramatic drag. To finish the theatrics, Rob leaned his head back, and slowly released perfect smoke rings toward the ceiling. Once he had finished blowing out the remainder of the smoke, he turned his head and smiled broadly at Ryan.
‘What a day’. He said.
Rob Black was about 5’9 and portly. He had dark wavy hair and smiled easily and often. No one would ever describe him as typically good looking, but Rob always surprised Ryan with his success with women. He was smart with a self-depreciating sense of humor. Most importantly, he was Ryan’s closest friend in a City where friends became the only family you could have.
Rob had been at the bank for almost six years, an ex-pat from New York, he was delighted when a new single playmate joined the ranks. Their motto was always ‘work hard, play hard’ and they stuck to it as though their lives depended on it.
Within Ryan’s first week, he had found himself sitting next to Rob during a compulsory and tedious, training day. They became friends from the onset. Thrilled that Ryan was new to the City, Rob made it his sole duty to become Ryan’s official tour guide. Before long Ryan knew all of the drinking establishments spanning across the Island as well as Rob did. They would often finish up their nights in Wan Chai, one of the darker districts of the social scene. Sitting in the heart of the City, and famed for it’s strip clubs, happy hours and late night shows that once lured Sailors. Ryan and Rob could frequently be found in a small smoky club, drinking whiskey, surrounded by beautiful girls. The bars and back streets offered them a glimpse into another time, a hint of the mysterious past of the Orient. Ryan often imagined what it must have been like as a young Sailor coming in from the port, excited about being in a tropical paradise, remembering the stories told whilst at sea. Being greeted by an array of girls; all dressed in exquisite silk Cheong Sam dresses. Not the demure kind like the traditional girls wore, with just one small slit on one side, but the kind of dress that demanded attention. The sleeves short and capped to show long slender olive arms with the dress buttoned high into a mandarin collar, secured with individual fine silk knots. The body of the fabric following the shape and contours of the figure beneath, stopping demurely at the knees, but teasing the observer with high slits at the sides revealing young firm tanned thighs. It was too much to resist for some men. They would be lured easily with promises of drinks, dancing and more. Now only snippets of the past were still visible, an old silk lantern here, a secret covered doorway there, it felt a lot less glamorous and lot more seedy. Neon strip lights flickered overhead, framing small door entrances with brightly lit arrows pointing to hidden staircases. Ruby red velvet curtains, that had seen better days, now hung heavily over windows, worn and faded with the smell of old tobacco. Mamma Sans sitting on low stools with toothy grins offering pretty girls and massages, dancing girls and drinks to anyone as they walked by. Rob and Ryan were fascinated by the Tattoo parlors. Not brave enough to ever have one of their own, they would look at the images that showed pictures of half naked bodies covered in intricate tattoos of dragons and elaborate Chinese inscriptions that they couldn’t understand. They spent many nights gracing the smoking lounges and the sleazy and dingy back street clubs. It was a common end to their evening, tumbling out of darkened nightclubs in fits of laughter over something that they would later forget, squinting into the bright daylight and heading home to sleep.
‘I bought you a present, thought you might need something to calm you down a bit.’ Rob leaned forwards and rummaged in his gym bag for a moment before retrieving his gift. With a big smile he planted a bottle of 12-year old Glen Fiddich Special Reserve on the glass coffee table between them.
“Perfect”, Ryan said with a smile as he stood up to fetch two glasses. ‘On the rocks or straight?’ He asked as he walked through to his kitchen.
‘Straight. Don’t ruin the amber nectar with ice.” Rob countered back, horrified at the suggestion.
Ryan walked back through carrying two whiskey glasses. Rob was eager to pour with the opened bottle waiting in his hand. They sat in silent appreciation as he poured the dark amber liquid into the first glass, watching it swirl in the bottom like liquid metal. He passed the glass to Ryan and then filled his own.
“Here’s to nine-lives.” Rob said, clinking his glass heavily against Ryan’s.
“I’ll drink to that.” Ryan said as he took a large sip of the whiskey. He let the liquid trickle over his tongue savoring the myriad of subtle flavors that merged into one another, hints of smoke and wood mixed with fruit and liquorice, before swallowing it slowly. He felt himself relax.
‘This is good.’
“Tough day at the office?” Ryan asked his friend.
“No worse than usual, but pretty boring compared to yours. Tell me everything.” Rob said sipping his drink.
Ryan spent the next ten minutes without interruption telling Rob all of the days events. Rob listened intently, nodding and gasping at all the right moments. Ryan felt like he was living it all again as he explained in detail about the gunshot, the man falling, the blood seeping across the floor, the old mans distorted face. After he had concluded his story Ryan could feel that his heart was racing. He took another sip of the whiskey to calm his nerves.
Seeing that his friend needed to change the subject, Rob switched to a lighter topic of conversation.
“OK, enough about Bank robberies and dead people, let’s talk about girls. Have you called Lily yet?”
“No, not yet”, Ryan replied, pleased with the sudden change of topic. “I was planning to call today, but maybe I’ll call over the weekend.”
“Are you kidding me? That girl is hot, and it’s a Friday night! You seriously could have died this morning. If I were you I’d be out there making the most of it. Call her right now.” Rob pushed his mobile phone across the glass table to Ryan.
“Just see if she’s out tonight?”
Ryan laughed, took another mouthful of whiskey and swallowed hard.
Without saying another word, he reached for the phone, pulled out the folded piece of paper from his pocket and punched in the number.
Beluga was a small stylish restaurant in the heart of the fashionable SOHO district, a name coined by locals referring to its location South of Hollywood Road. The restaurant boasted a curved walnut bar counter with plush grey velvet seating against the surrounding walls. It had tall pedestal tables, which stood facing the dramatic glass entrance. At the rear, a few intimate tables were pushed closely together in a s
mall wooden decked area, full with trees and plants. The art against the red walls was striking. Large canvases of contemporary oil paintings hung from the ceiling creating the feeling of a gallery. The lighting was warm and subtle and candles shimmered behind glass holders on each tabletop softening the skin tone of anyone sitting close by.
The music was a perfect mix of Jazz and R&B. Not too loud that that you couldn’t talk and not too quiet that you couldn’t hear it. Already Beluga was filled with people laughing and chatting. All of the seating had been taken early on and the floor space leading to the bar was heavy with people jostling to get the attention of the bar tender.
Ryan found himself blocked in as he tried to maneuver his way through the crowds to the back of the restaurant without treading on toes or knocking people with his elbows. He finally reached his destination and turned to see if he could locate Rob in the throng of people behind him. Sure that his friend would find him eventually, he turned to face the beautiful woman that sat quietly at the corner back table, drinking Champagne.
“Sorry we’re late.” Ryan said apologetically and nodded toward the heaving crowd of people behind him.
“It took a while to get here.”
“Well, you’re here now”. The woman said smiling broadly, as she stood to greet Ryan.
She was taller than Ryan remembered. He noticed that she was wearing tight black jeans showing off her long lean legs. She wore a simple black cashmere sweater cut to a deep v at the back. Her hair was pulled back from her face into a loose ponytail that swung to the side, falling across her shoulder as she moved. She didn’t need make-up, but was wearing eyeliner and lip-gloss, which made her eyes look smoky and her lips smooth.
‘Where’s our boy?’ Lily said softly as she leaned in to kiss Ryan’s cheek. He could smell her perfume and he found himself inhaling her scent for a brief moment.
‘Oh, he’s here somewhere,” Ryan said totally distracted by her, wondering if he should have come on his own to meet her.
Ryan felt a firm hand rest on his shoulder and he turned to face a beaming Rob, slightly out of breath from pushing through the crowd, and armed with a new bottle of Cristal Champagne tucked under one arm, and three glasses in his hand.
“HELLO Champagne!” Rob shouted happily above the noise, before placing the glasses and bottle on the table. Lily and Rob exchanged amused glances before laughing fondly at their friend. Ryan shook his head, rolled his eyes at Rob and smiled. Finally, the thoughts of the day were drifting out of his mind and were replaced with thoughts of the fun night ahead.
Chapter 5
Sarah Lam sat in her office pouring over the details in the police report. Her coffee mug sat untouched on her desk, the milky brown liquid now cold to the touch.
So far she had not been able to identify the dead Chinese man. The circumstances surrounding the shooting at the Bank that morning were still ambiguous. She had a lot of people still to interview and seemingly a lot of information missing. She had sent her partner home a few hours ago already. Chow had a young family and she often felt bad keeping him at work late, away from his wife and child.
Now her office was quiet, and only a few lights were on in the building.
She sighed and put down the report for a moment. She rubbed her temples with her long fingers, trying to massage away the headache that was threatening to present itself. She straightened her back and sat upright in an effort to refresh her mind and picked up the report again.
Lam scanned the paperwork familiarizing herself with the details. The dead Chinese man, she suspected, was probably from the mainland. He appeared to be some kind of manual worker based on the calluses found on his hands and sunspots visible across his face, neck and arms. She guessed that he was from simple means, and definitely not the mastermind behind the attempted breach of security.
Her mind began to shift into gear as she ploughed through the file. If a bank robbery was the intention, she thought to herself, then it would have been a fruitless attempt. The Bank was impossible to rob, especially single-handed. Security was extremely tight, too complicated for an old man on his own. Even if he had managed to get past the entrance undetected, where was he planning to go? What was the purpose of his break in? Sarah mulled over this for a moment.
Clearly there was more than one person involved in this, she concluded. But this is where her investigation fell short.
After interviewing the two security officers on duty, Lam felt sure that they were telling the truth and this collaborated with Ryan Harpers account of the events.
She imagined the scene in her head.
The old man had walked into the Bank and attempted to enter the main door using a swipe card. Having interviewed the two security officers independently, and verifying the procedures with the Bank’s Security Director, Lam now knew that all contractors must report to the duty security officer at the desk in the lobby before entering the building. This was their standard procedure. All work contractors knew that they had to pick up their new security tag as well as their daily swipe cards. The tags would be permanently clipped onto their overalls for the duration of their time on the premises and the swipe cards would allow them limited access to the fourth floor.
The swipe card that the old man attempted to use had immediately flagged up an error message, and raised the alarm to the security officer on duty.
When the officer approached the old man and asked him to sign in at the desk and follow the procedure, he told the officer that he was late for work, if he could just be swiped through by the officer, then he would be on his way.
The officer asked again and this time requested another form of ID from the old man. The old man refused, but was insistent upon getting through the door. He continued to push his card through the scanner in the futile hope that the door might eventually open.
The officer radioed through to his colleague, who promptly joined the two men at the door. After which they their argument began.
From her notes, Lam knew that it was at this point that Ryan Harper had entered the Bank. She wondered for a moment about Harper. There was something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Perhaps she just didn’t like these self-assured Westerners. She often found them too confident for their own good. She shook the negative thought from her mind and carried on. Harper was apparently oblivious to the breach of security and only seconds later had found himself lying on the floor and a single shot was fired.
With no CCTV footage on hand, Lam had no choice but to believe each witness account at this stage.
Lam read through the interview notes that Chow had written up on the on-site project manager, Lai Wong. He had worked for Wing Land Holdings for several years and was managing the fourth floor renovations at the bank.
There were twenty building contractors employed by Wing Land to carry out the work. They had been hired to renovate the entire fourth floor of the building. This was to become the new private banking section for exclusive use of the banks elite customers. There was a lot of demolition work, most of which was completed outside of normal banking hours. Every day, between 06:30am and 07:30am, all of the previous days rubbish and rubble would be removed from the building, and loaded onto a truck before the roads became too congested with traffic and before the bank opened to the public.
Lai Wong advised Chow that completion was due in three weeks time and they were on track, with no issues to speak of.
Lam had also spoken to the Bank Security Director, John McIntyre who collaborated everything that Lai Wong had said in the report. He also wanted to add that the authorization and restricted security access that had been introduced for independent contractors, had, until that moment been working well, and the fact that the old man had not been able to successfully penetrate the security, in his mind, meant that the system worked.
Lam referred back to the forensics file.
The old mans clothing had been removed and sent to the lab for testing. They used one of the Wing Land standard overall
s as a comparison.
Even though the overalls were similar in style and colour, the conclusive tests confirmed that it was not from the same manufacturer. The fabric weight and construction was different, and an alternative dyestuff had been used to attain a similar grey colour. The twist on the sewing thread was tighter than the original making it absolutely impossible for it to have been made in the same place or on the same machine. It looked as thought the overalls had been either custom-made or purchased for the sole purpose to make the old man look like one of the contract workers.
After lengthy discussions with both the construction company and the bank, both sets of records showed that all workers were accounted for that day, and all security swipe cards and tags had been handed back in to the Bank security desk. Not a single thing was unaccounted for. At this stage none of the bank personnel or the employees of Wing Land were under suspicion.
She had nothing.
Sarah closed the file, slipping it back into the pile of papers on her desk. She sat back for a moment to think. The Chief was giving her a hard time over this one. The Asia World Bank’s CEO had personally called his good friend the Police Commissioner to apply a little pressure. “A man shot dead at a major bank is not good PR, no matter which way the press handle it.” The Commissioner had said. The Chief relayed the message to Lam and Chow. If there was something more sinister behind this botched attempt, the Chief wanted them to find out what it was, and quickly.
Lam checked her watch, it was long after midnight and the last few hours had slipped by surprisingly quickly. Lam could feel that she was losing the battle against her headache and would be of no use to anyone here.
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