The Trophy Taker

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by Lee Week


  ‘Janie,’ Mann recalled, ‘that was it. Then there was the time the local police shut you down when you didn’t pay them enough. Never seen you so angry. But the worst was when I came here and there was nothing left. Typhoon Rosy took everything. You were devastated – remember?’

  Jojo closed his eyes, put his hand on his chest and sighed.

  ‘That storm was one I never forgot.’

  ‘But do you know what? In all the years I’ve been coming here this is the first time I’ve ever seen you scared.’

  Jojo wiped the sweat from his eyes with his shirt sleeve. He was smiling but he didn’t look like a happy man.

  ‘Listen to me, old friend.’ Mann held his gaze. ‘I know the Chinaman came through here. I followed him from Hong Kong. Tell me what he wanted.’

  ‘You gonna get me killed, Bro.’ Jojo looked around nervously. The boxing was still going on. The others were still staring at their drinks, waiting to find that ‘happy place’. Jojo turned his back on the bar and looked hard at Mann. ‘I in enough trouble.’

  ‘Tell me. I might be able to help.’

  ‘A Chinaman come here ten days ago. He rent my house – real nice place I have behind here.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Not as tall as you, but tall for a Chinaman – goatee beard, bald, mean-faced, thirty-five maybe?’

  ‘That’s the man. Anyone else?’

  ‘Come wid five other Chinese – his monkeys. Same time as he arrive come four white guys. They stay up at the end of the beach. Come wid whores from Angeles.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘He wanted me to sell ’im somethin’ – somethin’ I own.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have businesses in Mindanao, down south. He want me to sell them to him – cheap.’

  ‘What kind of businesses?’

  ‘A bar, a small hotel. Nuttin big. Nice place – on de coast.’

  ‘What did you agree to?’

  ‘Not agree nuttin. He said he be back. He left wid white guys here. Bin here a week. Deese are bad fuckers,’ he whispered. ‘One of de whores is beat up nasty. Dey got money – plenty – pay off de police. I see them talking wid dem like old friends.’ Jojo shrugged and shook his head. He stared hard at Mann. ‘I tell you, bro, I gonna be in big trouble when dat Chinaman come back.’

  ‘Are they here tonight – the white guys?’

  Jojo signalled for Mann to wait whilst he walked out of the bar and across the narrow sandy lane that ran the length of the mile-long white sugar beach’. Halfway across the lane he started swaying to the music…He began dancing with three of his sons who touted along the lane for him. As Jojo swang his hips to the rhythm, Rex on the drum box got a nudge from the singer. Rex opened his eyes. He stopped rocking his dreadlocks and began drumming faster. Jojo tried to keep up. He couldn’t. He staggered back into the bar, amidst laughter and applause, clutching his hand to his chest as if he were about to have a heart attack.

  ‘Bastards.’ He laughed, talking to the men watching the fight and rolling his eyes in the direction of the beach. ‘You give dem your name an’ they treat you like shit. Kids.’ He took a beer from the barman and waited for the fuss to subside before making his way back over to Mann. Jojo fanned his face with the bar mat.

  ‘They here?’ Mann asked again.

  Jojo leaned in. ‘One of dem is here….sat left of de stage wid a young Filipina…Big white guy… peak cap.’ Jojo turned away from Mann and leaned his back against the bar, pretending to be interested in the boxing match which had reached its fifth round. He kept his eyes diverted from Mann and kept smiling, ‘Anuder ding,’ he whispered. ‘Dat old white guy’s got somethin’ hard in his pocket an’ it ain’t his big old cock. You gonna spoil my business you make trouble here, Johnny.’

  ‘Relax, old friend. They’ll be no trouble.’

  Mann picked up his drink and walked across the lane. He sat on the end of a table of Dutch tourists, directly behind the man. It was hard to see the man’s face hidden beneath the peak cap and with just the candlelight and crescent moon to help. But Mann could see he was big, strong and weathered, ex-military, with tattoos over his upper arms. He wore khaki shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He chainsmoked and was texting fast, impatiently. The young Filipina sat a little apart from him, waiting nervously by his side. The text messages came back every few minutes – no jingle from the phone, just a light and a vibration. His leg twitched with adrenaline as he read a new text. He called a number, said a few words, then finished the call abruptly and slammed the phone down onto the table. He pulled off the peak cap and rubbed his sweaty head. His silver grey short back and sides was indented with the outline of the cap. Mann saw his face, mottled and puffy, dominated by bulbous eyes that made him look what he was – angry. Mann recognised him straightaway. It was the man they called the Colonel – one of the biggest traffickers of women and children in the Philippines.

  Enjoyed The Trophy Taker?

  Prepare to be frightened all over again…

  BLOOD LINES

  Grace Monroe

  Blood is thicker than water – and far more deadly …

  A woman is lured to a remote spot in the Scottish Highlands and strangled almost to the point of death. As she begs for mercy, her tormentor begins to carve her face, before burying her alive.

  In Edinburgh, unorthodox young lawyer Brodie McLennan becomes tangled up in the case. When it emerges that Brodie was the last person to see the victim and crucial evidence is found at her flat, she must fight to clear her name – and save her own skin.

  Meanwhile in an asylum in Inverness, a deranged patient writes the name Brodie over and over in her own blood…

  As another mutilated body is discovered bearing the same ritualistic markings, Brodie is running scared from unknown forces, eager to see blood on her hands…

  Prepared to be shocked in this dark and gripping thriller, for fans of Ian Rankin and Mo Hayder…

  ISBN: 978-1-84756-041-4

  Coming in June 2008

  LOST SOULS

  Neil White

  A ritual murder. Abducted children mysteriously returned. Why?

  A woman is found butchered on a Lancashire housing estate, her tongue and eyes brutally gouged out. Ritual murder or crime of passion?

  Children are abducted and then returned to their families days later, unharmed but with no knowledge of where they have been – or who took them.

  DC Laura McGanity, having relocated from London to the old mill town of Blackley, quickly learns that life up North is far from peaceful. She needs to solve these mystifying cases – but keep the local police on side.

  Her reporter boyfriend Jack Garrett – the reason for McGanity’s relocation – is back in his hometown and finds himself entangled in the two mysterious cases. His investigations reveal murky connections and sordid secrets.

  But when Jack meets a man who ‘paints’ the future – prophecies of horrific events which he then puts onto canvas – it’s becoming terrifyingly clear that many people, including his own family, are in grave danger…

  ISBN: 978-1-84756-018-6

  Coming in May 2008

  THE MURDER GAME

  Beverly Barton

  Are you ready to play…?

  The game is simple – he is the Hunter. They are the Prey. He gives them a chance to escape. To run. To hide. To outsmart him. But eventually, he catches them. And that’s when the game gets really terrifying…

  Private investigator Griffin Powell and FBI agent Nicole Baxter know a lot about serial killers – they took one down together. But this new killer is as sadistic as they’ve ever seen. He likes his little games, and he especially likes forcing Nicole and Griff to play along. Every unsolvable clue, every posed victim, every taunting phone call – it’s all part of his twisted, elaborate plan. And then the Hunter calls, wanting to know if they’re really ready to play…

  There’s a new game now, and it’s much more deadly than the
first. A brutal psychopath needs a worthy adversary. He won’t stop until he can hunt the most precious prey of all – Nicole. And with his partner in a killer’s sights, Griff is playing for the biggest stakes of his life.

  ISBN: 978-1-84756-059-9

  Coming in August 2008.

  THE TROPHY TAKER

  Lee Weeks left school at 16 with one O’level and, armed with a notebook and very little cash, spent seven years working her way around Europe and South East Asia. She returned to settle in London, marry and raise two children. In those 15 years, she worked as a cocktail waitress, chef, model, English teacher and personal fitness trainer. She now lives in Devon with her two children and her dogs. The Trophy Taker is her first novel. Please visit www.leeweeks.co.uk for more information on Lee.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.co.uk for exclusive updates on Lee Weeks

  Copyright

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  AVON

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  A Paperback Original 2008

  First published in Great Britain by

  HarperCollinsPublishers 2008

  Copyright © Lee Weeks 2008

  Lee Weeks asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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  ePub edition August 2008 ISBN- 9780007281879

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty One

  Chapter Forty Two

  Chapter Forty Three

  Chapter Forty Four

  Chapter Forty Five

  Chapter Forty Six

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Chapter Forty Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty One

  Chapter Fifty Two

  Chapter Fifty Three

  Chapter Fifty Four

  Chapter Fifty Five

  Chapter Fifty Six

  Chapter Fifty Seven

  Chapter Fifty Eight

  Chapter Fifty Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty One

  Chapter Sixty Two

  Chapter Sixty Three

  Chapter Sixty Four

  Chapter Sixty Five

  Chapter Sixty Six

  Chapter Sixty Seven

  Chapter Sixty Eight

  Chapter Sixty Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy One

  Chapter Seventy Two

  Chapter Seventy Three

  Chapter Seventy Four

  Chapter Seventy Five

  Chapter Seventy Six

  Chapter Seventy Seven

  Chapter Seventy Eight

  Chapter Seventy Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty One

  Chapter Eighty Two

  Chapter Eighty Three

  Chapter Eighty Four

  Chapter Eighty Five

  Chapter Eighty Six

  Chapter Eighty Seven

  Chapter Eighty Eight

  Chapter Eighty Nine

  Chapter Ninety

  Chapter Ninety One

  Chapter Ninety Two

  Chapter Ninety Three

  Chapter Ninety Four

  Chapter Ninety Five

  Chapter Ninety Six

  Chapter Ninety Seven

  Chapter Ninety Eight

  Chapter Ninety Nine

  Chapter Hundred

  Chapter Hundred And One

  Chapter Hundred And Two

  Chapter Hundred And Three

  Chapter Hundred And Four

  Chapter Hundred And Five

  Chapter Hundred And Six

  Chapter Hundred And Seven

  Chapter Hundred And Eight

  Chapter Hundred And Nine

  Chapter Hundred And Ten

  Chapter Hundred And Eleven

  Chapter Hundred And Twelve

  Chapter Hundred And Thirteen

  Chapter Hundred And Fourteen

  Chapter Hundred And Fifteen

  Chapter Hundred And Sixteen

  Chapter Hundred And Seventeen

  Chapter Hundred And Eighteen

  Chapter Hundred And Nineteen

  Chapter Hundred And Twenty

  Chapter Hundred And Twenty One

  Chapter Hundred And Twenty Two

  Chapter Hundred And Twenty
Three

  Chapter Hundred And Twenty Four

  The Trafficked

  Preview

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Preview

  About the Author

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

 

 

 


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