Dead in Hong Kong (Nick Teffinger Thriller) (18 page)

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Night

______________

A STRONG MOON threw a pale yellow glow over the nightscape. Kong watched from the shadows as the two women walked silently around the perimeter of the house and shined flashlights in the windows.

They were breaking in.

Why?

Were they getting dirt to blackmail some other poor sap?

They were gutsy.

He had to give them that.

Suddenly glass broke.

He smiled.

There they go.

He positioned himself between the house and their car, then searched around until he found a good clubbing stick. He’d knock them both out, then pick up one in each arm and carry them back to his car.

He waited.

Time passed.

Then something bad happened.

Headlights bounced up the road, getting brighter and stronger, heading his way. They came to a stop where Kong’s car was parked.

He swallowed.

Police?

They stayed there for some time. Then a car door slammed. The driver must have been out of the car and was now back in. Three seconds later, the headlights moved again. Kong headed farther away from the road and got down on his stomach. Someone could drive by a h
undred times and never see him, b
ut the car didn’t drive by.

Instead, it stopped twenty meters before it got to the house. The engine shut off. A man got out, a large man, and quietly walked towards the house.

The owner?

The man tiptoed to the front door and tried the doorknob. When it didn’t turn, he inserted a key and slowly opened the door. He left it open behind him and walked into the house without turning any lights on.

KONG CREPT TOWARDS THE HOUSE on cat feet.

Curious.

Excited.

Breathing deeply and silently.

He hoped he didn’t have to kill the man.

He really did.

But if it came to it, then it came to it.

He was going to leave with the women.

Period.

Nothing in the world was going to stop him.

It was his night.

He owned it.

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Night

______________

PRARIE’S KNIFE HIT SOMETHING that felt like flesh and, at that exact moment, Emmanuelle screamed. Two seconds later, the side of Prarie’s head exploded in colors and pain. She realized that she had been struck by something wooden or metal, something that injured her badly and maybe even killed her. Everything went
black before she hit the floor.
At some point later she regained consciousness
, a foggy
eerie consciousness
, n
ot fully awake
b
ut enough
awake
to tell that she wasn’t dead.

She saw nothing.

She blinked to be sure her eyes were open.

They were.

But the world around her was as black as if she was in a coffin.

She heard nothing.

She moaned to be sure her ears worked.

They did.

She heard that, but nothing else
, n
ot a sound.

She had no idea where she was. It felt like a mob of little demons was trying to break out from inside her head by beating on her skull with little hammers.

Let me pass out.

Please.

Please.

She went to put her hands over her ears.

Then something happened.

Something terrible.

Her arms wouldn’t move.

She went to stand up.

Her legs wouldn’t move.

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Night

______________

EVERYTHING WENT WRONG. The mystery woman—Tanna—got pushed aside by Fan Rae, who came over to guard her property.
Teffinger
spent most of the next two hours sandwiched between Fan Rae and Yuki, getting drunk and being groped. It wasn’t a bad place in the universe to be, he had to admit, but it wasn’t the one he came here for. He kept an eye on Tanna, waiting for a chance. She was on a couch with her hand in some guy’s crotch. Then it was time to leave.

It was t
hreesome time.

Yuki handed him a piece of paper.

“That’s my phone number,” she said. “It’s good for a week or two.”

Teffinger
shoved it in his pocket.

“Thanks for being so nice to Fan Rae,” he said. “You totally made her day.”

She rubbed her chest on him and kissed him on the lips.

“You listen to my CD, okay?”

He nodded.

“Do you do any Beach Boys songs on there?”

She laughed.

“You’re too much. Call me.”

TEN MINUTES LATER they were in a club called M1NT, another high-society Central hotspot, with a Swarovski crystal chandelier that cascaded between floors like a waterfall. The person they came to meet was standing next to a saltwater tank filled with baby sharks.

“That’s her,” Fan Rae said, pointing.

“The one in the pink and black?”

“Right,” she said. “Xiang.”

He didn’t know exactly what he expected, but it probably wasn’t this. The woman had tight pink shorts, incredible creamy thighs, a blue jewel in a very nice bellybutton, and a short black top. 

Teffinger
swallowed.

She was out of his league.

She might reject him.

The woman spotted them, waved to Fan Rae and then checked
Teffinger
out as they walked over. She kissed Fan Rae on the mouth and said, “He’s just as nice as you said.”

Then she kissed him and said, “I’m Xiang.”

“You smell like a flower.”

“Told you,” Fan Rae said. Then to Xiang, “You have a big act to follow. He’s been partying with Yuki all night.”

The woman was startled.

“Yuki the singer?”

“Right, she’s over at the Dragon.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Xiang said.

THEY HAD A COUPLE OF DRINKS.

Then headed to Fan Rae’s.

It turned out that the women already had a plan. They let
Teffinger
feel up Xiang to his heart’s content, to get it out of his system. Then they laid him on his back and said, “Stay just like that, don’t move.”

He obeyed.

Then they made love to each other.

Slowly.

Erotically.

They did it on top of him
, b
ut otherwise ignored him.

It wasn’t until they satisfied each other completely that they turned their attention to him.

“We’re going to have a contest,” Fan Rae said. “We each get to use our tongue and mouth for one minute. Then it’s the other person’s turn. We can’t use our hands or any other part of our body. The one who gives you the ultimate pleasure is the winner.”

Teffinger
closed his eyes.

“That sounds reasonable.”

Day Six—August 8

Saturday Night

______________

AS KONG CREPT CLOSER TO THE HOUSE, the blond woman suddenly busted out of the front door with a knife in her hand and headed right at him. At first he thought she was attacking, but as she got closer it was apparent that she would miss him by three or four steps. She was obviously heading for the car.

Kong positioned himself.

As she went by, he popped up out of the shadows and clubbed her in the chest so hard that she lifted off the ground, landed on her back and didn’t move. He didn’t know if he’d killed her or not.

He shook her.

She didn’t respond
.

Then he threw her over his shoulder and trotted towards his car. Her face banged against his back.

Kong didn’t care.

Screw her.

He got her in the trunk, hogtied her and then slammed the lid. Now it was time for the other woman. As he headed back towards the house, though, something whizzed past his head, missing him by not by more than a few centimeters. He didn’t know if it was a rock or an arrow or what.

Then he saw the source.

It was the man.

He was standing by the front of the house, cocking his arm back. Kong recognized the position.

He ran back to his car, turned it around and floored it.

The back window shattered as sped off.

A death star lodged in the dash.

Day Seven—August 9

Sunday Morning

______________

PRARIE WOKE UP IN A BED. Her wrists were tied together, tightly, with multiple wraps of a thin white rope combined with several hard-pulled knots. Her ankles were similarly bound. Faint background music came from the adjacent room. The pungent odor of turpentine permeated the atmosphere. An air conditioner hummed from somewhere in the house.

She looked around for Emmanuelle.

She wasn’t there.

Where was she?

Dead?

The little demons were still inside her head, but not hammering anywhere near as loudly now. She had to relieve herself so badly that she actually thought about doing it right there in the bed.

But the sound or smell might draw attention.

So she fought the pressure and instead surveyed the rope on her wrists. Then she began working at it with her teeth
, quietly, c
ontrolling her breathing.

How long would she have before the man checked on her?

Ten minutes?

Ten seconds?

With any luck, he was wrapped up in the painting.

IT TOOK FOREVER, but she got the rope off her wrists. Her instinct was to rub the circulation back into her hands, but instead she immediately set to work on the binding lashed around her ankles.

It was actually more difficult than her wrists.

It was harder to reach.

Plus, to pull the knots, she could only use her fingers.

They weren’t anywhere near as strong as her teeth.

Finally, though, she got it off.

Her shoes and socks were next to the bed. Should she take the time to put them on? Yes, she had to choice, because otherwise she wouldn’t be able to run. She did it as quietly as she could and alternated her attention between the task and the door, which was wide open.

The room had one window.

She unlatched the lock
, t
hen slid it up
o
ne centimeter at a time
, f
ighting the urge to jerk it up and dive through.
As soon as the opening was big enough, she stuck her legs through. She was halfway out when a man appeared in the doorway
—a
big man
, a m
uscular
man, a
bout thirty-five.

Two jagged scars raked down the right side of his face.

He dropped a paintbrush from his right hand and lunged at her.

“You bitch!”

Day Seven—August 9

Sunday Morning

______________

TEFFINGER
WOKE SUNDAY MORNING with Fan Rae on one side and Xiang on the other. Both women were naked. Both were beautiful, especially in the soft morning light. Still sexually charged from last night, he almost shook Fan Rae’s shoulder to see if she wanted to sneak into the other room. Then he thought better of it, slipped out without waking them and headed outside for a jog.

Hong Kong was still asleep
.

It wasn’t
boiling yet.

He ran for a half hour, still felt good, and kept going. The city was a study in contrasts—yesterday meets tomorrow, east meets west, old meets new, rich meets poor, young meets old, concrete meets water.

Strangely, he felt at home.

He could live here with no problem.

He knew that.

The food was good.

The people were nice.

And, of course, Fan Rae was here.

Fan Rae.