Black Horn (A Creasy novel Book 4)

by A. J. Quinnell

He decided to get his mind off the subject. He smiled at the new initiate at the table and said, ‘Why don’t you phone that agency you use and have them send out half a dozen gweilo women. We’ll have some fun.’

  One of the diners who had drunk too much rice wine let out a high giggle and pointed across the table saying, ‘You’d better get a gweilo boy for Hon Pang.’

  There was a sudden silence and all eyes turned to Tommy Mo. Slowly he stood up, his face impassive. He walked around the table until he stood behind the man who had made the remark. Then, in a soft whisper which was heard by everybody, he said, ‘Your mistake was not to insult Hon Pang, but to drink too much wine on such an occasion. You have made too many mistakes in the past days. I entrusted you with the killing of the policeman Colin Chapman and the woman Lucy Kwok Ling Fong. Your incompetence allowed her to escape and she remains a threat to us. I will give you one last favour. You can choose which way to die.’

  The new initiate, the wealthy Hong Kong businessman, watched in silence.

  The man stared at the table in front of him and then said, ‘By the sword of Loyalty and Righteousness.’

  Tommy Mo nodded.

  ‘You have saved a small part of your face.’ He pointed across the table at the man who had been insulted and said, ‘Hon Pang, you have the honour.’

  They went back to the meeting hall and the initiate watched the ritual. He had to turn away as he saw the sword slash down on the prone man’s neck and the blood gush out.

  Chapter 44

  Creasy flew in from Bangkok. The others would be arriving during the next twenty-four hours from various Asian destinations, and checking into different hotels. He would base himself in the safehouse.

  Before taking off, he had spoken to Jens on the phone and had been informed that a safehouse had been located and rented in Kowloon. Mrs Manners had arrived with Lucy and Rene, and they were in the Peninsula Hotel. The news related from Rene via Jens was that Mrs Manners was presenting no problems. Corkscrew Two had been in touch, and the weapons were on their way. The Hong Kong police were pretending not to cooperate, but had supplied vital information. Jens had faxed Creasy his twenty-page analysis on the 14K, and Creasy had studied it carefully, trying to get a feeling for his enemy.

  Creasy tried to look into the mind of Tommy Mo. Within a few minutes, one fact became obvious. If Tommy Mo was deeply intelligent and knew that assassins were on their way, he would simply melt into the background, move without an entourage into his milieu. In the most densely populated area on earth, Creasy would never be able to find him. Meanwhile, Tommy Mo could send his soldiers out after Creasy and his team. But from all his experience of such people, Creasy knew that Tommy Mo would not disappear. There were two reasons: first, to disappear would cause a loss of face among his followers, and such a loss of face to a Chinese could ultimately be fatal. Second, like most bullies, Tommy Mo would be a coward. The thought of hiding out on his own would not be an option. He would want his power around him, a kowtowing gun-toting sycophantic entourage. He would retreat to his Sai Kung stronghold, not realising that to barricade himself inside his villa with a small army was total false security. It was a military tactic at least a century out of date. It was vital that Tommy Mo ran to his villa.

  Creasy’s thoughts turned to his team, and the thoughts gave him satisfaction. The team was balanced between intellect and skills; above all, it was massively experienced. They might not be the youngest bunch of guys engaged in warfare, but they knew the difference between a pep talk and a bullet in the head. There would not have to be any pep talks or orders — just a request or a suggestion. The best kind of team.

  He felt the aircraft tilt as they began the descent to Hong Kong. Assuming that Tommy Mo retreated to his villa, Creasy would divide his forces. He would lead one unit, and Guido the other. Guido — literally a brother in arms. They shared an almost telepathic understanding. He considered how he would dispose the rest of the men between them. As the minutes passed, it all fell into place.

  Next Creasy’s thoughts turned to Lucy, causing disquiet in his mind. She was his kind of woman. She had a mystery and a sensuousness. She had a good mind. She held a tragedy. It was a combination designed to reach out and grab him.

  As the plane lined up for its landing over the harbour, he thought of Michael. Creasy looked out the window at the skyline of Hong Kong island. It was very different from his last visit, fifteen years before. The buildings were taller and even more clustered. Among the millions of people was a man who had caused his son’s death. A kind of pantomime villain who dressed in gaudy outfits for irrelevant rituals, but who dealt out death — be it to humans or the black rhino. A macabre joker.

  As the plane’s wheels screeched on to the runway, silent words went through Creasy’s mind.

  ‘I’ve arrived, Joker.’

  Chapter 45

  The Commissioner of Police surveyed Inspector Lau Ming Lan through his thick spectacles and commented, ‘You should have asked my permission.’

  Inspector Lau looked back through his own thick spectacles and answered, ‘You would not have given me permission.’

  The Commissioner’s voice remained stern. ‘I should bring you up before the disciplinary board.’ Inspector Lau shrugged.

  ‘Do so. For the last ten years, I’ve worked in what we now call the Anti-Organised Crime Department, but which we all know by its previous name, the Anti-Triad Department. We all know what they are and who they are, but we can do nothing. I have wasted ten years of my life. A few weeks ago, my boss was murdered by the 14K. I know who was responsible . . . and so do you . . . but we are powerless to do a thing about it. Tommy Mo walks around with impunity and laughs at us. We pick up small fries from the 14K, but you and I both know we have no chance of getting the top men. It’s an insult to my work and to Colin Chapman’s work and to every single man who works in our department.’

  The Commissioner looked down at the one-page report in front of him and said, ‘So why did you give me this?’

  Inspector Lau carefully considered his answer and then replied, ‘I belong to a disciplined force. By giving that Dane our computer disk on the 14K, I broke the law. In a sense, that report is a confessional.’

  ‘You broke the law and your discipline.’

  ‘Definitely. It came from frustration. You’ve seen the report from Commander John Ndlovu in Zimbabwe. He suspects that the woman Gloria Manners is financing a team of mercenaries to come to Hong Kong, a team aimed at the 14K.

  By law, we cannot cooperate with that team but instead, as my report suggests, the Hong Kong Police Force suddenly becomes blind in certain directions over the coming days. I suspect that Tommy Mo, through his infiltration of our force, has also read that report from the Zimbabwe police. We know that yesterday he moved into the Sai Kung villa, together with Hung Mun and between forty and fifty of his top fighters. My guess is that he’ll wait there and see what happens.’

  Again, the Commissioner looked down at the single sheet of paper. He remarked, ‘You suggest that these men will arrive under false passports and that we instruct the Immigration Department not to be too critical of passports over the next few days.’ He looked up, his expression still severe. ‘You have by your very clever investigation discovered that these men have a safehouse in Braga Circuit, and that within days they’ll launch an attack on the villa in Sai Kung. A violent attack. You suspect that they will be buying or importing illegal weapons. These are all illegal acts under our laws, and yet you have the temerity to suggest that we turn a blind eye.’

  The two Chinese men looked at each other through their thick spectacles for a long silent moment, and then Inspector Lau said, ‘We must have laws. As a policeman, I understand that. But even policemen have emotions. Colin Chapman was not a gweilo. He was one of us. He was your friend and mine. He knew more about our culture than you or I will ever know. But we do know that he was murdered on the direct orders of Tommy Mo. Sometimes, justice comes in strange forms. I h
ave broken discipline and you have every right to apply sanctions on me . . . I accept your decision.’

  The Commissioner looked down again at the single piece of paper, then, slowly and very deliberately, he tore it up, dropped it into the waste-basket beside his desk and said, ‘I never saw that piece of paper. But if the Governor sends me to jail for a thousand years, you will share my cell.’

  Inspector Lau stood up and said, ‘When this man, Creasy, reads the contents of that disk, he might well decide that the risk is not worth the money — no matter how much he and the others are getting paid. One thing is for sure. The odds are totally on Tommy Mo’s side. He has ears and eyes everywhere. Even in our own force — maybe even in my own department. By giving that disk to the Dane and by asking your permission to turn a blind eye, we may have eased the odds very slightly . . . but only very slightly. I don’t think those people have more than a two per cent chance of getting anywhere near Tommy Mo. But even a two per cent chance is better than nothing. It’s certainly better than we’ve had over the past ten years.’

  The Commissioner also stood up and said, ‘I will issue the necessary instructions. For the next few days, passports will not be overly scrutinised at the airport. Concurrently, the police presence in the Sai Kung peninsula will be very busy elsewhere.’

  Inspector Lau moved to the door. As he reached out to open it, the Commissioner’s voice stopped him. ‘Have you considered what Tommy Mo’s reaction might be?’

  ‘Yes. He will attack.’

  ‘How and where?’

  ‘At the woman, Gloria Manners. She is funding the campaign against him.’

  ‘How will he attack?’

  ‘She is staying in the Presidential Suite at the Peninsula Hotel, together with Lucy Kwok Ling Fong. He will try to infiltrate. They have a double target. They missed Lucy Kwok the first time and, for sure, they’ll try again.’

  ‘Presumably, this man Creasy will have them protected.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But do you doubt that the 14K can penetrate that hotel?’

  ‘If they can, I’m sure this Creasy has made enough provision.’

  Chapter 46

  ‘She has arrived.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The woman, Gloria Manners.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘In a suite in the Peninsula Hotel.’

  ‘She’s alone?’

  Hung Mun shook his head. ‘She came by private jet, together with Lucy Kwok.’

  ‘She came just with Lucy Kwok?’

  ‘No. There was a man with them. According to his passport, he’s a Belgian called Rene Callard. They cleared customs together and were met by the manager personally. An hour later, the private jet took off. Its flight plan was to Bangkok.’

  ‘Do we have anybody at the Peninsula Hotel?’

  Hung Mun shook his head.

  ‘We have people in every hotel in Hong Kong except that one . . . The loyalties of the staff there stay with the Kadoorie family.’

  ‘So be it . . . but we have our men at immigration. Has Creasy arrived or this Maxie MacDonald?’

  ‘The immigration computers show no such names.’

  ‘False passports?’

  ‘Maybe . . . so, in the meantime, you stay here in Sai Kung.’

  Tommy Mo looked down at the piece of paper and remarked, ‘If we kill this old woman, everything ends.’

  Hung Mun shook his head.

  ‘I think not. I think this man Creasy is coming, and her death will not stop him. I think, also, she will be protected. She’s in the fifth floor Presidential Suite, and to get to her will be difficult.’

  ‘You said we have to attack. So how do we do that?’

  ‘We have to get Lucy Kwok. She will be the hand in our negotiation.’

  ‘How do we get Lucy Kwok? If she’s with this old woman, she has the same protection.’

  ‘We have to get her out of the hotel.’

  ‘How do we do that?’

  ‘We have to watch that hotel and all other hotels in the area. We have our people in all the other hotels. We must mobilise the 14K.’

  Chapter 47

  The customs officer studied the packing list and then the airway-bill. Finally, he looked at the large steel container which measured twelve feet by six. He turned to the airfreight forwarder next to him, who happened to be a cousin, and asked, with a slight edge of sarcasm in his voice, ‘Why would anyone ship furniture by air, at such a cost?’

  The cousin shrugged.

  ‘The customer is very rich and impatient.’ He was not at all concerned. He had met his cousin the night before at a Dim Sum restaurant and, after paying for a good meal, he had passed over the envelope containing the two gold sovereigns.

  The customs officer looked again at the airway-bill, and this time he smiled. ‘It’s very heavy furniture,’ he said. ‘It weighs more than a couple of tons.’

  ‘Solid mahogany,’ came the reply.

  Ten minutes later, the airfreight forwarder drove out of the airport customs area behind a truck carrying the container. He stopped very briefly at a side-street near Nathan Road. The passenger door opened and Corkscrew Two slid into the car.

  ‘Any problems?’ he asked.

  The Chinese man pointed at the truck ahead.

  ‘No problems, sir. They’re in there.’

  Creasy and Frank Miller had just finished lunch in the safehouse when the doorbell rang. The two men exchanged glances and then Frank stood up, wiping his face with a napkin, and went down the corridor to the door.

  Creasy also stood up and moved to the corridor, and watched as Frank pressed a button and spoke into the intercom. A voice came back, simply saying, ‘Corkscrew Two.’

  Half an hour later, the three of them were unloading the carefully packed weapons and checking them one by one. Apart from the two RPG7s, there were four Uzi submachine-guns and six FNP9 lightweight submachine guns, which, because of their mostly plastic construction, looked almost frail, but which were one of the most modern and effective short-range weapons ever devised. Then they unloaded a variety of pistols ranging from Colt 1911s, all the way down to lightweight Berettas, together with spare magazines and boxes of ammunition and soft chamois shoulder-holsters. Then the boxes of grenades, both fragmentation and phosphorescent. Two boxes of flares followed, one 2-inch mortar and a steel box of mortar bombs and, finally, a variety of clothing comprising black trousers and long-sleeved shirts, black socks, black boots, black webbing and chest pouches and black balaclavas.

  The others arrived one by one about an hour after dark. After Jens and The Owl had been introduced to Eric Laparte and Do Huang, Creasy led them all into the dining-room and they sat down for their first full-scale strategy meeting. Creasy was at the head of the table. He looked at the faces around him and said to Jens and The Owl, ‘We are what we are and we’re not ashamed of that. You will not know the words I’m going to speak, but for the rest of us, they are a Bible. They come from a prayer written by a French paratrooper who died with honour in 1942. His name was Andre Zirnheld and his courage was legendary. His words were thus:

  “Give me, God, what you still have;

  give me what no one asks for.

  I do not ask for wealth,

  nor for success, nor even health.

  People ask you so often, God, for all that,

  that you cannot have any left.

  Give me, God, what you still have.

  Give me what people refuse to accept from you.

  I want insecurity and disquietude;

  I want turmoil and brawl.

  And if you should give them to me, my God,

  once and for all,

  let me be sure to have them always,

  for I will not always have the courage

  to ask you for them.”

  When he ended the prayer, the silence was intense. Jens Jensen broke the silence.

  ‘We need that prayer. The information I have is daunting. Not all of
us will leave this place alive.’

  Eric Laparte lifted his head. He looked as though he had had a facelift that had gone wrong. He said, ‘That’s part of the prayer. Without the risk, there is no purpose . . . without a purpose, we have no blood . . . without blood, we are nothing. Sometimes we keep it and sometimes we lose it.’ He looked at the faces around the table. ‘Maybe for some of us, the time has come. Maybe that time has been overdue . . . How many wars? How many wounds? We have a just cause.’

  There was a combined murmur of agreement and then came the briefing from the Dane.

  His laptop computer appeared and, for an hour, he talked without interruption and then Creasy took over. He explained that for the coming days they would mount a major surveillance on the villa in Sai Kung. They needed to find a way to get in. A frontal attack would be suicidal. He then went through the composition of the two teams. Creasy himself would lead Tom Sawyer, Frank Miller and The Owl in one team, and Guido would lead Maxie, Eric Laparte and Do in the other. Creasy and Guido would be the ones to infiltrate the villa, before the operation started. The teams had been selected for their various skills. Maxie and Frank Miller would handle the RPG7 rocket launchers. Eric Laparte and Do would handle the 2-inch mortars. They would all have SMGs, pistols and grenades. Creasy immediately came up with an argument from Jens Jensen.

  ‘What about me?’ the Dane demanded.

  ‘You’ll handle communications and the base,’ Creasy answered.

  ‘So, I’m not capable of being in the field?’

  Creasy sighed. ‘You well know chat somebody has to co-ordinate the operation. That’s your job. You’re damn good at it and we’ll all feel secure with you at the centre — that’s a bigger contribution than any of us have to make.’