Death Trip. Lee Weeks
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Johnny. Hong Kong is built on secret handshakes and unspoken deals. There are things you don’t ask about.’
‘Hong Kong may be based on secrecy, but we need to trust each other. I need to know things about my father that affect me. If they don’t, then by all means keep them secret, but something as important as him having other children, I need to know.’
‘I had no reason to tell you at the time. You were eighteen. You had suffered enough. My main concern was you. You had gone through a terrible ordeal.’ Her voice dropped off. She watched the bird pecking at the peanuts on the table. ‘That night when your father died I was out with Eleanor. I became a novelty to her in the end and this was one of those nights when she was showing me off. We played bridge. I lost. I got a call from the servants. The amah was crying down the phone. She only told me that some terrible accident had happened. I remember asking her: is Johnny all right? She didn’t answer me, she couldn’t. I didn’t wait for a taxi. I ran all the way from Eleanor’s, my heart thumping, my lungs burning. I dreaded finding you dead. When I saw you standing there I was so relieved. But, as I walked forward, I saw Deming lying in front of the house, his head split open. And I remember my legs gave way and I crawled towards him. I tried to scream but I couldn’t. I was frozen on my hands and knees, and then I was staring at his head, his skull was smashed, his brain bulging from a massive gap and his face gone. I remember looking at the blood seeping onto the driveway and I remember thinking: we’ll never get that out; it will stain.’
The bird flew away from the bird table.
Mann stood and went over to rest his hands on her bony shoulders.
The sun hadn’t reached that side of the building yet, soon it would come in so strong that she would need the blind down. Already the aircon was humming away. Mann knew she wasn’t looking at anything.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. It must have been terrible for you.’
She reached a hand back and covered Mann’s that rested on her shoulder.
‘I am sorry I did not tell you sooner. I am sorry that the other boy died in such terrible circumstances. I would not wish that on any mother. I never want to meet her—Magda—but…’ She turned back from the window. ‘Go and find your brother, Johnny.’
It was five by the time Mann alighted at Admiralty station. He bought himself a bun from the French bakery before emerging into the late afternoon sunshine. It was the perfect temperature: Hong Kong was enjoying its best season, low humidity and cloudless skies. But it didn’t matter what season it was, Hong Kong was his home; he was born there and he would die there—hopefully not any time soon.
Mann’s office in the OCTB was in Headquarters, Central Police Station, just a short walk from the station through Harcourt Gardens. Mann had worked in the department for the last year. He was trying not to blow it. It was the kind of job he had joined the police force for sixteen years before, straight out of school. After the death of his father he had had personal issues to resolve: he wanted to make a difference and he had a serious hatred of triads. They had long since lost sight of their lofty aims to serve the people—now they were drug runners and people traffickers like every other scumbag gangster the world over. But they were far from easy prey. They hid themselves within the business community like chameleons. They were more subtle than other mafia around the world. They had friends in high places and had nearly cost him his career and his life once or twice. But he had become an expert in their ways and now the police force needed him as much as he needed to work for it. His methods were unconventional and he trod on toes but Mann delivered. The OCTB needed him as much as he needed it—and it was what he lived for.
He turned into the entrance, through the electronic gates, and sprinted up the elevator and into a waiting empty lift. He stopped to show his warrant card before taking the elevator up to the twenty-third floor. There were four wings to each floor. The OCTB was spread over two floors. Mann’s office was in the West Wing, along the semi-circular corridor.
Mann passed interview rooms. They were having trouble with gangs in the Mong Kok area and they had hauled in twenty for questioning. Pam, the new female detective, was interrogating a suspect. Lucky bugger, thought Mann—it would be nice to be interrogated by a woman in a white, crisp cotton blouse and a tight pencil skirt. It was a pity she was busy—this would have been a perfect chance to introduce himself properly. He walked into his office and was met by the fantastic view of Hong Kong. Headquarters had been designed so that all the boring stuff took place in the central sections of the building—it was where suspects were held, identity parades carried out and the Incidents and Communications room was located—whilst all the offices had massive windows.
Even though the paint on Headquarters was barely dry, there was already an air of scruffiness to it. The offices were crammed with files and the corridor had become a dumping ground for unwanted items of furniture.
Most of the senior inspectors had their own office. The rest shared with three or four others. Mann shared his with Sergeant Ng and Detective Li. Detective Li, a young detective otherwise known as Shrimp, was waiting for him.
Mann had worked with Shrimp for almost two years. During that time he had seen him evolve from boy to man but he still hadn’t lost that freshly scrubbed look to his face. He was an experimental dresser who normally favoured the vintage look. He swivelled his chair around as Mann entered.
‘Hello, boss. Ng’s on his way up, he had to go, but he filled me on the situation. Been busy looking at stuff for you. Discreetly, of course.’
Shrimp turned back round to his PC in the middle of his messy workstation, more tubes of hair gel than anything else, and he tapped on the keyboard, clicking various links until he found what he was looking for.
‘Thanks, Shrimp. I’ve put in a request for leave but it’s been refused. The Super wants to see me. I’ll catch up with you when I’m done.’
Mann walked down the corridor and knocked on the Superintendent’s door.
‘You wanted to see me, ma’am?’
The slender figure of Mia Tan seemed lost behind the massive desk. She hadn’t been in the post for long and she hadn’t had time to change things. The walls still bore the outlines of the last occupant’s photos. There was a stunning view down towards the harbour. As Mann came in, an eagle flew alongside her window.
‘Sit down, Johnny.’
She might have looked small in stature but Mia was anything but diminutive. She was tough and clever and very ambitious. With her short hair and her oversized eyes, she had a quirky but striking look. She had a dancer’s physique, slim but strong. She trained hard at the gym. She wasn’t one of those women who wore full makeup to the gym and hated sweating. Whatever she did, she did well and with enthusiasm.
They had known each other since cadet school and had helped one another with some extracurricular nighttime revision now and again, but Mia was too ambitious to put up with Mann’s wild streak for long. Now she had been promoted over him and she was his boss.
‘Can’t let you take off to Thailand. There’ll be questions asked about why a Hong Kong policeman is going into a politically unstable area. If you get caught in any trouble it could start a major standoff between us and the rest of Asia. You know the top brass is looking for any chance they can to discipline you. I can’t stick my neck too far out for you, Johnny.’
‘You don’t have to, Mia.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She gave a small smile and lowered her eyes. ‘We go back a long way. If you had toed the line a bit more you would have been sat behind this desk. We trained together. You’ve had more experience of high profile cases than me. You deserved the promotion. But you are never going to get it unless you play ball.’
‘Mia. I need to do this. There are personal reasons why I have no choice. I have to go.’
She