by Mark Arundel
‘Well, it’s not really likely,’ she said. Her voice lowered. ‘I don’t know he definitely did it, it could have been someone else.’
‘Yes, it could,’ I said.
We ended the call. She didn’t mention anything about a drink this time. Perhaps she was too preoccupied with thoughts of cornering her prime suspect that she had forgotten her appetite for a little Interpol romance, at least for now.
‘Who was that?’ Xing asked.
‘It was just the police officer investigating the killing of the girl in Soho.’
‘Do the police know who did it?’
‘No, they think it was Casanova. Now they’ve arrested him they’re hoping for a confession and quick end to the case.’
‘He didn’t do it,’ she said. ‘I hope he doesn’t tell them what happened in Switzerland.’ Xing threw my rucksack on the bed. I hoped that too, but I didn’t say so.
‘Start packing,’ she said.
‘In one minute,’ I said. ‘I’ve just got to make a call.’ That call was to ‘Billy’ Bradshaw.
‘Hello,’ he said in a friendly voice, ‘you’re using a K106. I’d have thought after Tenerife you’d be put off them for life.’
‘Have you heard?’
‘Yes, I’ve heard.’
‘Did he do it?’ I asked. ‘Is that the reason for the ST?’
‘I’ve got no idea whether he did it and I don’t know the reason for the ST.’
‘Who gave the instruction for the ST?’
‘It came through one of the normal secure channels, completely legitimate; I don’t know who sent it.’
‘What about the explosives?’
‘That was a specific request sent with the authorization.’
Bradshaw wasn’t helping. If he did know anything, he wasn’t telling. Meriwether was probably right; nobody told Billy what he didn’t need to know.
‘I’m ready to go,’ Xing said.
‘Give me a minute,’ I said.
‘When can you do the ST?’ Billy asked.
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘I’m away on company business.’
‘What’s Meriwether got you doing?’ he asked.
‘It’s a treasure hunt,’ I said.
‘Make sure it’s not a mulberry bush,’ he warned.
‘...a mulberry bush,’ I repeated.
‘Yes, you know, here we go round the mulberry bush.’
Xing gave me her hurry-up look.
‘...a mulberry bush,’ I said again.
Bradshaw didn’t respond. He ended the call before I could say anything more.
Xing was staring at me.
‘What’s a mulberry bush?’ she asked.
We followed our usual precautions and left the suite with care. Downstairs, at the wide desk, the smiley girl gave me a receipted bill. She had already taken the money on my card. Xing watched. She pushed her back against the marble pillar. Inside her coat, she held her hand ready just in case.
I passed through the double glass doors. I felt Xing’s free hand touch my back. I scanned ahead, one side, then the other. I saw taxis, doormen, bellboys, guests and a big saloon. It was a big Mercedes saloon. It must have been the colour. I dropped low; the Glock was in my hand. Xing moved with synchronised speed. She was beside me. Her Glock pushed forward. Her eyes followed mine. For a moment, I thought it was Missouri. The Mercedes passed by. The danger didn’t exist. I stood. People were staring. Xing straightened. We put the guns away and hurried off.
‘Well, at least you haven’t lost any of your speed,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a little practice. What was it, the Mercedes?’
‘I didn’t realise I was so jumpy,’ I said.
‘It’s better to be safe than sorry,’ she said.
I decided not to take the ferry. It was too risky. Those two men had spotted us before. Someone could spot us again.
‘The sky shuttle is expensive,’ she said.
I paid using the credit card. We waited in the plush departure lounge. The green pad was flat and smooth like a giant’s table-tennis table. Two of our travelling companions climbed in ahead of us. They were an odd couple. He was a sociable man with silver hair and a tailored suit; she was attractive and much younger like the age of his daughter or niece.
‘I don’t think they’re related,’ Xing said.
The silver-haired, friendly man helped the girl in by putting his hand on her right buttock. He pushed and squeezed at the same time.
‘You may be right,’ I said.
Our helicopter journey lasted sixteen minutes. The Westland 139 flew low over the water. I saw a ferry and smiled. The silver fox spent his time productively. His girlfriend had removed her coat to reveal a low cut dress. It seemed to take most of his attention. The other passengers were mostly businessmen except for one, a mature lady wearing a fur hat. She looked at me but didn’t smile. Xing noticed and said, ‘She’s a middle-aged woman in a hat and yet she doesn’t seem attracted to you.’
‘She’s just disguising it well,’ I said.
‘Close your eyes. Maybe it will feel like you’re on board a Chinook.’
‘I bet this guy is cheating on his wife. Why don’t you call her up, maybe she’ll pay you to kill him.’
‘I don’t do domestic work.’
The Westland bounced on its wheels. The ground crew wore orange overalls. They opened the door. The silver fox and his girlfriend stepped down. We followed. A strip of red carpet led us to the building like film stars on Oscar night, except for the missing flashbulbs and screaming fans.
At immigration, just as before, I showed my new British passport and Xing showed her HK Identity Card. We passed through. Nobody was looking for the names we were using.
‘We have to decide which hotel,’ Xing said.
‘It needs to be close to Missouri and it should be big and busy, so we get plenty of cover,’ I said.
‘Okay, that sounds like the Ritz. It’s on the Hill. It’s close to Ma Zu temple where we picked up Vong. Missouri’s house is only a short walk away.’
‘Who’s Vong?’
‘He’s the old man who led us to the house.’
‘I thought it was Wong.’
‘It is Wong in HK but in Macau it’s pronounced Vong.’
I didn’t bother to ask. ‘The Ritz it is then,’ I said.
‘It’s probably expensive,’ she said.
‘Good, I’m becoming acclimatised to Asian luxury.’
We took the bus, just like earlier. It hadn’t speeded up at all. The people were just as numerous and the seats just as covered.
The hotel stood on the slope of a wooded hill beside a shallow bay. It had changed its name to Riviera. For some reason, it made me think of a reformatory school. It was square and had unvarying solemn windows. The higher floors poked up above the tree line like statues on tiptoes.
Inside the lobby, the marble floor glistened, but the false ceiling would not please any base jumpers who had made the journey from HK. After finding out every room had guests, except for the second most expensive suite, Xing acted disappointed.
‘I don’t want second best,’ she said. She designed her silly grin to tell me she was trying to be funny. I handed over the credit card. The receptionist took it with her fixed smile. She had obviously seen silly grins before.
The suite looked out over the bay. The hotel described it as a harbour view. Xing spent several minutes with her nose pressed against the glass. She didn’t speak.
‘Let’s take a stroll by Missouri’s house again, and get our bearings,’ I said. I wanted to map the satellite coordinates onto my K106. She broke her gaze and walked towards me.
‘Yes, okay, if you want,’ she said.
We left the hotel. Our precaution routine had now become automatic. Outside, Xing tied her hair back and then discreetly checked her firearm.
We followed a winding pathway down the hill. It led us through the trees to the water.
‘It’s actually a lake,’ she said, ‘Sai Van Lake
, not the sea.’
The walkway beside the lake took us south. I recognised the road from earlier. This time, we were heading the other way. The line of trees marked the quayside. Tall apartment blocks huddled together for companionship. Through the curving bend, we approached the gates. It was quiet. The odd car passed by and other people, mostly tourists, strolled with the relaxed gait that holidaymakers always seem to have. We stopped just like last time. I tried to be as casual as I could. The Mercedes was still there. It didn’t look as if it had moved. The colour was the same as the one that had spooked me outside the hotel. We kissed and then turned so Xing could look.
‘Someone’s coming out,’ she said. I glanced back. The Mercedes was moving. We turned away and crossed the road. We needed to view from a more concealed position. A group of tourists were taking photos. We tagged on to the edge of their group. The gates opened and the big saloon accelerated through. We continued to embrace while secretly watching the car. The privacy glass concealed the rear passengers, but through the windscreen, I saw the driver and the front seat passenger. They were both men. The Mercedes sped off leaving the gates to close automatically.
‘Do you think that was him?’
‘We’re going to need help.’
‘Yes, professional surveillance.’
Jonathan Puddles, nicknamed Jemima, called me.
‘I was told to make contact with you again. I didn’t know if you were in the same hotel, I’d stopped following you, you know because you told me to, so that’s why I called.’
I thought he sounded unhappy. Perhaps it was the prospect of meeting Xing again. At their second meeting in the park, she had told him to stop following us. I think she scared him. He would know what she did. I could imagine he might not react warmly to a triad-schooled killer warning him off.
‘We need your help,’ I said.
‘What kind of help?’
‘...surveillance,’ I said.
‘...surveillance,’ he repeated. ‘Can you be more specific?’
‘What do you know?’
‘What I’ve been told.’
‘Do you know who Missouri is?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I worked on the report.’
‘The report was a start, but now we’re going to need more detailed information,’ I said. ‘We need to make positive identifications, log activities, record journeys, create a register of events, a timetable that we can use to plan.’
‘I can do that.’
‘Have you done it before?’
‘Yes, of course. I have a team of locals I use. It takes a team to do that kind of work properly. I call them the ducklings.’
‘...the ducklings,’ I said.
‘Yes, it’s just a pet name,’ he said.
I didn’t laugh.
‘Well, you and your ducklings need to come to Macau right away, we need to get started.’
‘Three of the ducklings are already in Macau. Does Missouri have a car?’
‘Yes, he has a Mercedes.’
‘We have two taxis,’ Jemima said. ‘A taxi is a good way to follow a Mercedes.’
‘How do you manage to follow people without them knowing?’
‘Everyone wears blue jeans,’ Jemima said. That was his explanation. I didn’t get another.
Xing and I were back in our new hotel suite. She had started to undress. ‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she said.
‘Make the arrangements and then call me back,’ I told Jemima.
‘I’ll have to round them up,’ he said. ‘They sometimes paddle to the edge of the pond and get lost in the reeds.’
‘Just hurry up and then call me back,’ I said.
I ended the call.
Xing was now naked. ‘Are you going to join me?’
I nodded. ‘One minute,’ I said, ‘I just want to call Meriwether.’
‘Don’t be long.’
‘Dear boy, it’s lovely to hear from you, how are you finding the Orient, have you settled in?’ Meriwether was in a cheerful mood. ‘I’m just on my way to the tailors,’ he said.
‘...and I’m on my way to the shower,’ I said. ‘Look, I’ve just spoken to Jemima and he’s going to do the surveillance work. He said he has a team of locals that help him. He calls them the ducklings.’
Meriwether chuckled. I could hear the sound reverberate inside his travelling car. It sounded like he was warming up before going on stage. ‘Ah yes, the ducklings,’ he said, ‘most amusing, Jemima does enjoy a good witticism. He takes very good care of them, you know. They will do a first rate job, rest assured.’
‘We still need visual identification,’ I said. ‘Even with good photographs, head and shoulder shots, close-ups, we still need someone we can trust who can put names to faces.’
‘Yes, of course, that may be something Jackie will have to arrange. Unfortunately, the HK office doesn’t have that information and they don’t know anybody who does. It is her plan after all. She must have thought it through. It might be difficult to pull it off if you don’t know who’s who, wouldn’t you agree.’
He ended the call.
I was still considering Meriwether’s words as I walked naked into the bathroom. Steam was wafting from the shower like the pressing room of an industrial laundry. I stepped in and pressed my body against Xing’s wet back. I eased her forward so the hot jets fell on my head. She turned and put her arms around me. Her mouth was wet against my lips.
‘Jemima’s going to do the surveillance work,’ I said. ‘He’s got a team of locals he uses.’
‘Yes, the ducklings, I heard.’ She kissed my chin and ran her hands over my chest.
‘How are we going to get confirmed identifications? We have to be certain.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’m going to get Vong to help us.’
17
FRIDAY: 06:50—12:00
Jemima called early the next morning.
‘The ferry has just left,’ he said. ‘I’ve rounded up the ducklings and all of them will be in Macau before the end of the day. Shall we meet?’
Tourists covered Ma Zu temple. It was busier than the previous day. We met Jemima in the courtyard. He wore a Panama hat and a cream linen suit.
‘Why don’t you just wear a badge that says, British spy?’ Xing asked scornfully.
‘I look like a British tourist,’ Jemima said defensively.
Xing then spoke to him in Cantonese and Jemima answered fluently.
‘You speak Cantonese,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he said, cheering up. ‘My father was a diplomat and I went to school in Hong Kong for several years and then I studied languages at Oxford.’
‘His accent is terrible,’ Xing said. ‘He even sounds like a British spy.’
Jemima was hurt. He turned away from her and spoke to me.
‘So, all we have is the one location,’ he said. ‘You better show it to me.’
We followed the same route Vong had taken us on. We stopped briefly at the gates. Jemima crossed to the other side. He looked up and down the road and then at the water. He nodded. It was a quick survey. We walked on.
‘It’s not the easiest location to work with,’ he said, ‘but my ducklings will make something of it.’
‘When can they start?’
‘Later today,’ he said. ‘We have two taxis, fully licensed. All the equipment we need we already have.’
‘...equipment?’ I asked.
‘Yes, you know, cameras, personal communication devices, bugs, trackers, binoculars, disguises...’
‘...disguises?’
‘Yes, disguises. One time, I dressed as a clown and did a street performance with a camera hidden in my flower and...’
Xing interrupted. ‘I’m not surprised it was a clown’s costume,’ she said.
It was time for me to stop this. We had to work together.
‘That’s enough,’ I said. ‘Jemima was only following us because he was ordered to do so. It isn’t his fault he’s good
at it and that you didn’t spot him. Your professional pride is hurt, that’s all, well, get over it; we have to work together as a team. Now apologise to him and then pack it in.’
She wasn’t used to anyone telling her off. For a moment, her eyes flared and I thought she was going to talk back. She didn’t. She knew I was right. I watched her closely. Her eyes held mine and then she turned to Jemima.
‘I apologise,’ she said.
Jemima smiled. He looked relieved.
‘Oh, that’s all right,’ he said, ‘I quite understand. I probably wouldn’t like someone following me either. Shall we swop addresses?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘no addresses, it’s better for security if we don’t know. We’ll keep in touch by phone.’
‘Very well,’ Jemima said. ‘I’ll call you later.’
Xing and I waited. Jemima went on ahead. We watched him until he was out of sight.
‘Did you learn that discipline as a soldier?’ she asked.
‘Ill-discipline is the quickest way to end up dead,’ I said. ‘I thought you would know that.’
‘I’ve been working on my own too long,’ she said. ‘When I worked in a gang my discipline was absolute. A lone killer forgets about teamwork.’
We returned to the hotel. After performing our security ritual, we closed the suite door and ordered room service.
‘Tell me more about Vong,’ I said.
‘He was a loyal triad, loyal to his master. He was an administrator, known as a White Paper Fan. He’s not a triad anymore.’
‘...why not?’ I asked.
‘He blames Missouri for his master’s death. When Missouri took control, Vong left.’
‘How do you know him?’
‘I don’t. He wants to help.’
‘Why does he want to help us?’
‘He doesn’t want to help us, he wants to help me.’
I must have looked confused. Xing’s face lightened. ‘He wants to help me kill Missouri,’ she said. ‘He knows what’s going on, he got word to me through the HK contact, he wants revenge on Missouri and he believes I’m the one who can do it. He’s perfect for telling us everything we need to know.’
18
SATURDAY, 05:50—21:00