Necropolis (23 page)

"Is there any news from my dad?" As they cleared the breakfast plates away, Scarlett asked the same question she asked every morning.

"I'm sure he'll call you soon, Scarlett. He's very busy."

"Why can't I call him?"

"It's not possible. China is very difficult." She flicked on the dishwasher. "So where would you like to go today?"

This was the moment Scarlett had been waiting for. She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she said.

"We could go out to Stanley Village. It is on the beach and there are some nice stalls."

Scarlett pretended to consider. "Actually," she said, "I wanted to buy some jade for my friend Amanda."

Mrs. Cheng nodded. 'You can find jade in the Hollywood Road. But it's expensive."

"Can't we go to a market?"

"There's a jade market in Kowloon…"

It was exactly what Scarlett wanted her to say. She had read the entire chapter in the guidebook and knew that the most famous jade market in Hong Kong was just round the corner from the temple. If they visited one, they'd be sure to walk over to the other. And that way she would arrive at Tin Hau without even having mentioned it.

She still had to make sure that they got there at the right time, so after they finished clearing up, she announced that she had some schoolwork to do. They didn't leave Wisdom Court until two o'clock.

Scarlett would have preferred to have taken the subway that went all the way there, but as usual, Mrs.

Cheng insisted that Karl should drive them. That meant he would be with them all afternoon. They were certainly keeping her close.

The jade market was in a run-down corner of Kowloon, just off the Nathan Road, which was a long, wide tourist strip known as "the Golden Mile." Not that there was much gold amongst the rather tacky shops that specialized in cheap electronics, fake designer watches, and cut-price suits. The market was located in a low-ceilinged warehouse, sheltered under one of the huge overpasses that seemed to be knotted into the city.

The pollution was even worse today. The weather was cold and damp, and the mist was thicker than ever. Scarlett could actually feel it clinging to her skin and wondered how the people of Hong Kong put up with it. She noticed that increasing numbers of them had resorted to the white masks on their faces.

How long would it be before she joined them?

There were about fifty stalls in the jade market, selling necklaces, bracelets, and little figurines. Keeping one eye on her watch, Scarlett made a big deal out of choosing something, haggling with the stallholders, asking Mrs. Cheng for advice, before finally settling on a bracelet that cost her all of three pounds. As she handed over the money, it occurred to her that Amanda would actually like it — she just hoped that she would be able to give it to her sometime soon.

"Do you want to go back down to the peninsula?" Mrs. Cheng suggested as they came back out into the street. Karl was waiting for them, leaning against the car. He never seemed to have any trouble parking in Hong Kong. For some reason, the traffic cops — if there were any — never came close.

"Not really…" Scarlett looked around her. And she was in luck. There was a signpost pointing to the Tin Hau Temple. They were standing right in front of it. "Can we go there?" she said, trying to make the suggestion sound casual.

"We've already visited a lot of temples."

'Yes. But I'd quite like to see another."

It was true. They'd already been to the Man Mo in Central Hong Kong and to the Kuan Yin only the day before. They were strange places. Chinese temples seemed to mix religion and superstition — with fortune sticks and palm readers sitting comfortably among the altars and the incense. The people who went there didn't pray like an English congregation. They bowed repeatedly, muttering to themselves.

They left offerings of food and silk on the tables. They burned sacks of paper in furnaces that were kept going for precisely that purpose. Hong Kong had been Westernized in many ways, but the temples could only belong to the East, providing glimpses of another age.

Tin Hau was just like the others. As Scarlett stepped inside, she found herself facing not one but several altars, surrounded by a collection of life-size statues that could have come out of a bizarre comic book: a cross-legged old man with a beard that was made of real hair, two devil monsters, one bright red, the other blue, both of them more childish than frightening. One of them was crying, wiping its eyes and grimacing at its neighbor. The other stood with a raised hand, trying to calm his friend down. There was a china-doll woman carrying a gift and, in a long row, more than fifty smaller figures, each one a different god, perched on a shelf. The temple was a riot of violent colors, richly patterned curtains, lamps, and flowers. The smoke from the incense was so thick that they'd had to install a powerful ventilation system that droned continuously, trying to clear the air.

Scarlett had arrived on time, but she had no idea what she was looking for. There were about a dozen people in the temple, but they were all busy with their devotions. Nobody so much as turned her way.

Was it possible that she had misunderstood the passage in the guidebook? It had definitely told her to be there at five o'clock, and it was already a few minutes past. She waited for someone to approach her, to slip another message into her hand — one of the worshippers, or a tourist perhaps. She even wondered if her father might be there.

Nothing happened. Nobody came close. Scarlett knew she could only pretend to be interested in the place for so long. Mrs. Cheng was watching her with growing suspicion. She certainly hadn't shown much interest in temples the day before — so what was so special about this one?

"Have you had enough, Scarlett?" she demanded.

"Who is that?" Scarlett asked desperately, pointing at one of the statues.

"His name is Kuan Kung, the god of war." Something flickered deep in Mrs. Cheng's eyes. "Maybe you should pray to him."

"Why do you say that, Mrs. Cheng?"

'You never know when another war will begin."

In the end, Scarlett had to leave. She had lingered for as long as she could, but it seemed clear that nobody was going to come. She was hugely disappointed. Of course, the note had given her only a time.

It hadn't told her what day to be there. On the other hand, it was unlikely that she would be able to find an excuse to return, and slipping out of Wisdom Court on her own was out of the question. Nine people had died when the office on the waterfront had burned down. Maybe whoever had sent the message had been among them.

It was beginning to get dark when they emerged into the square. Karl was sitting on a bench with his arms folded, looking about as animated as the statues they had just seen. A number of stalls were being set up all around. They didn't look particularly interesting — selling socks, hats, reading glasses, and useless bits of bric-a-brac — but they were attracting quite a crowd.

"Can we look at them?" Scarlett asked.

It had only struck her there and then. The passage in the guidebook had described the Tin Hau Temple.

But it had also gone on about the square outside. Maybe her secret messenger would be waiting there.

Mrs. Cheng scowled briefly, but Scarlett had already set off. She followed.

Scarlett pretended to browse in front of a stand selling cheap alarm clocks and watches. She was determined to spend as much time here as possible. She noticed that the next stall wasn't selling anything. There was a woman with a pack of tarot cards. In fact, now that Scarlett looked around, she saw that at least half the market was devoted to different methods of fortune-telling.

She walked over to a very old man, a palm reader who was sitting on a plastic stool, close to the ground.

His stall was decorated with a banner showing the human hand divided into different segments, each one with a Chinese character. He was examining the palm of a boy of about thirteen, his nose and eyes inches away from the skin as if he really could read something there. Scarlett moved on. There was a woman a little farther along, also telling the future. But in a very different way.

The woman was small and round with long, gray hair. She was wearing a red silk jacket, sitting behind a table, arranging half a dozen packets of envelopes that were stacked up in front of her. On one side, there were three cages, each one containing a little yellow bird — a canary or something like it. On the other, she had a mat with a range of different symbols and ajar of seeds. The woman seemed to be completely focused on what she was doing, but as Scarlett approached, she suddenly reached out with a single, gnarled finger and, without looking up, tapped one of the symbols on the mat.

It was a five-pointed star.

Scarlett had seen exactly the same thing on the door that had led her to the Monastery of the Cry for Mercy. She was careful not to give anything away — Mrs. Cheng was standing right next to her — but she felt a rush of excitement. According to Father Gregory, the doors had been built centuries ago to help the Gatekeepers. They were there to help her. Had the woman sent a deliberate signal? Scarlett examined her more closely. She still didn't look up, busying herself with the envelopes and occasionally muttering at the birds.

Scarlett turned to Mrs. Cheng. "What's this all about?" she asked.

"She uses the birds to tell fortunes," Mrs. Cheng explained.

The old woman had heard the English voices and seemed to notice Scarlett for the first time. She squinted at her and muttered something in Chinese.

"She's offering to tell your fortune," Mrs. Cheng translated. "But it will cost you thirty Hong Kong dollars."

"That's about two pounds."

"It's a complete waste of money."

"I don't care." Scarlett dug in her pocket and took out the right amount. She set it down on the mat and took her place on the plastic seat on her side of the table. The fortune-teller folded the money and transferred it to a little purse that she wore around her neck. Then she reached for a white card and laid it in front of Scarlett. She said something to Mrs. Cheng.

"She wants you to make a choice," Mrs. Cheng explained.

There were a number of categories set out on the card, written in both Chinese and English. Scarlett could choose which part of her life she wanted to know about: family, love and marriage, health, work, business and wealth, or study.

"Maybe I should choose family," she said. "She may be able to tell me what's happened to my dad."

'Your father will be home very soon, Scarlett."

"All right, then. Love and marriage." Scarlett tapped the words on the card and thought briefly of Aidan.

She wondered what he was doing right then.

The fortune-teller took the card away and selected one of the piles of envelopes, which she had spread out in front of the three cages. Each cage had a door in the front, and she opened one of them. The little yellow bird hopped out as it had been trained to do, perched on the line of envelopes, then pulled one out with its beak. The old woman rewarded it with a couple of seeds, and the bird obediently hopped back in again. It was all over very quickly.

The woman opened the envelope and handed Scarlett the slip of paper that had been inside.

"Do you want me to translate it for you?" Mrs. Cheng asked.

Scarlett glanced at the sheet. "No, it's okay," she replied. "It's in English."

"Tell me what it says."

'"Good news from Fortune Bird Two.'" Scarlett read out the words. '"You will find your true love in the month of April. Your marriage will be long and happy, and you will travel to many countries. When you are old, you will make a great sum of money. Spend it wisely.'" She folded the page in half. "That's it."

"The note only tells you what you want to hear," Mrs. Cheng remarked.

"The bird chose it for me." She held out the page so that Mrs. Cheng could see it. "There you are. You can see for yourself. I'm going to be rich."

Mrs. Cheng nodded but said nothing. The two of them and Karl walked back to the car. And all the time, Scarlett's heart was racing as she kept the piece of paper close to her. She had folded it quite deliberately. She had only shown Mrs. Cheng half of what had been written.

For underneath the printed fortune, there had been another message, written by hand: Scarlet

You are in great danger. Do not let the woman read this. Come to The Peak tomorrow after. Follow the path from Lugard Road. We will be waiting.

We are your friends. Trust us if you want to leave Hong Kong alive.

NINETEEN

The Peak

Scarlett knew something was wrong the moment she opened her eyes.

A glance at her bedside clock told her that it was eight o'clock in the morning, but for some reason the sun wasn't reaching her bedroom. It wasn't just cloudy. It was actually dark. What was going on? She turned over and looked at the window. At first she thought that someone had drawn a black curtain across the glass, but then she realized that it wasn't on the inside. It was outside. How was that possible, twelve floors up? She propped herself on one elbow, still half asleep, trying to work it out.

And then the curtain moved. It seemed to fold in on itself, and at the same time Scarlett heard the beating of tiny wings and understood what she was looking at. It was a great swarm of insects, black flies. They had attached themselves to the window like a single living organism.

She lay where she was, staring at them with complete disgust. She had never seen so many flies, not even in the heat of the summer. And this was a cold day in November! What had brought them here?

How had they managed to fly across an entire city to come together on a single pane of glass? She could hear their buzzing and the soft tapping as they threw their bodies against the window. She could make out their legs, thousands of them, sticking to the glass. Their wings were blurring as they held themselves in place. Scarlett felt sick. She was suddenly terrified that they would find their way in. She could imagine them swirling around her head, a great black mass, crawling into her nostrils and mouth.