The Feng Shui Detective Goes South (34 page)

Brett Kilington had another struggle ahead—a tussle with himself. He was a rock climber. He had been a guide on The Rock. He had won a mention for barehanded climbing. He had some basic gear, including a climbing gun, in the boot of his car. And he had a general level of familiarity with the layout of the Opera House. If anyone could get up on to almost any portion of the roof, he could.

But was it right to do so? Was it against the rules? Was it, in short, an arrestable offence? It was certainly a good and right thing to go and arrest a large man who was holding a young woman against her will in a highly dangerous place. But at the same time, he had already made one strenuous effort to bring the man to justice and the police had been oddly unappreciative of their efforts—as had the girl. More than that, a senior officer had warned him that if he strayed a toe off the straight and narrow any time in the next fifty years, he would be down on him like the proverbial brick shithouse.

Yet here he was, on the very same afternoon, seriously considering doing something that would go directly against all the rules with which he had grown up. In the days when he had been a clerk at the Opera House after leaving school, he was told to take a certain route to and from the mailroom every day—and he had abided by it rigidly every working day for the entire six months he had been there. Yet five years later, he was thinking about entering one of the private areas, smashing a window, and climbing out on to the roof. Or using his climbing gear to mount the roof from below. It was ludicrous. He couldn’t do it. He would be locked up for sure. What would mum say? The image of Officer Gallaher loomed over him like a storm cloud.

‘Oh pigs! I’m sorry,’ he said to Joyce. ‘I can’t bloody do this. I can’t break rules. When I was small I wanted to be a cop.’

The young woman looked at him with her head on one side. ‘I’ve sussed you out,’ she said. ‘Never mind the muscles.

You’re a wuss.’

‘I am bloody well not. I just don’t like breaking rules, that’s all. I’m a Catholic. It’s just me. I’m like that. But I’ll help you do it if you want to go ahead.’

‘No way. I’m not going up there.’

The feng shui master, now he had managed to remain within the shadow of the broken rice bowls building for several minutes without having been struck dead, had decided that the fates were safeguarding him for the moment. He was going to be all right. He should act. This was his moment.

‘I am,’ said Wong. ‘Going up there. Ms Tsai is in danger.

No one is helping. I must help her. Here, please do this.’

Joyce blinked down at a small yellow box he had handed her. It was a disposable camera. ‘What’s this for?’ she said.

‘Take picture of me, please. One here. Then take picture of me up on roof, when I rescue her. Or when I try to rescue her.’

‘So you can send these to her dad, get a big reward?’

‘Must have evidence.’

‘You are so mercenary.’

‘Mersal—?’

‘Mercenary. It means, er, like obsessed with money.’

‘Yes. Thank you. Come.’

This last word was aimed at Brett, who had brought his box of climbing gear from the car and was clutching it in his arms as if it was a baby.

Wong raced off. Brett followed behind, the equipment in the box rattling.

‘Oh pants,’ cursed Joyce, and set off after them, camera in hand.

Amran Ismail was simultaneously utterly exhausted and filled with the greatest elation he had ever known. It was a curious compound of feelings, and it left him unsteady and almost delirious.

Madeleine Tsai clung to his arm, shivering with fear. ‘I want to go back. I want to go
back
,’ she said.

He lazily turned his head to look at her. ‘Later we will. Later.’

‘I want to go back
now.
I don’t know why we are here. This is so dangerous. Please, Amran, I’m scared. Take me back.’

‘
Takboleh.
Cannot. Very soon it will be over. I promise you,’ he said. ‘Wait a while only.’

She looked at the terrifyingly steep slope at their feet. A sob came from her throat.

‘
Aiyoh!
Don’t look if it upset you to look,’ Ismail snapped.

Madeleine closed her eyes and pressed her wet face against his shoulder.

He gently pushed her head away. ‘Careful. Don’t push me. Balancing very difficult. Better just sit still and wait only.’

They sat there together, not saying a word. The high winds were whipping her hair around, flicking it into her face. Occasionally there would be a sudden strong gust, which would flatten their clothes against their bodies.

‘What time is it?’ Maddy asked.

‘
Alamak
, you keep asking already. Less than twenty minutes to go only. It’ll go quickly. Should have bought something for you to do, distract you. Why not you just sing a song or something? Tell me a story. Or you like I tell you one? I can tell you about my children. The children in my home. I am going to do such wonderful things for them. And for Zahra. Ah, all my little ones. So cute. So
choon.

’ She shook her head. ‘You keep talking about them. I don’t want to talk about them.’

‘Sleep then.’

She dropped her head on to her knees but kept a tight hold on his arm. She began weeping more loudly. ‘You shouldn’t have made me do this. I’m scared. I hate you.’

‘Afterwards you realise. All the fortune-tellers said the same thing. Those
bomohs
in K L , the Great Bomoh in Melaka, that fortune-teller woman in Singapore, that old Indian guy, whatever his name was. They all said very bad luck coming.

Must go through this. Everybody confirmed. But Allah is so kind. He sent me to help you. You already dead for sure if you stay in Malaysia and Jackie find you. Allah is great.

He sent me to you. Now if can just stay here until end of tenth hour of daylight, then
inshallah
, all finished. Done.

Move on.’

He looked at her. She didn’t move her head. Without looking up, she said: ‘When can we go back?’

‘A little while more only-lah.’

They sat in silence again. After a while, he peeled her fingers off his arm—not without difficulty.

‘What are you doing? I want to hold onto you.’

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ he said in a reassuring tone. ‘Maybe I just hold you more tighter.’

She was sitting on his left. His long, thick left arm snaked around her shoulders. His other arm held her right upper arm tightly. She was entirely in his grip.

The wind rose higher, making conversation difficult. She wept quietly as they waited.

‘Mr Ismail. Mr Amran Ismail!’

The
bomoh
spun around. There was a voice in the wind. Someone calling his name? How could that be?

‘Ismail
-saang.

’ He arched his head further back and was astonished to find the head of the old Chinese man—one of Maddy’s friends— emerging from over the slope.

‘Die already! Get away,’ the angry
bomoh
spat. ‘What you want?’

Maddy squealed. ‘It’s Jackie.’

Ismail held her shoulders tightly. ‘Don’t scared. Is not Jackie. Just one of his men.’

Wong carefully climbed the slope until he was about six metres from them. ‘You’re in danger,’ the feng shui master called. ‘Come down. Not allowed to be here. Very against the rules.’

‘Go away,’ Ismail snapped. ‘Don’t come.’

‘Only want to help. Young lady she is scared, I think. I help her come back to window. You, me, together. Then she will be safe. All safe.’

‘Go die.’

Wong moved another metre closer to the couple.

Madeleine shrieked. ‘Stay away from me,’ she shouted.

‘Only try to help,’ Wong said.

The
bomoh
growled. ‘Don’t scared. I warn you . . .
Koyaklah!
Go now!’

Wong sat on the same ridge. But slowly he shuffled along on his bottom, getting closer to them, centimetre by centimetre.

‘Ms Tsai. I come to help. Mr Ismail, he does not really want to help you. He want you to die. This very bad place. Very dangerous. Not good to be here. Very bad feng shui. Also, for you especially, very bad time. You must be extra careful at this time. Not go into extra-dangerous place like this. Must come down off roof with me, come inside.’

‘Finish! He’s lying,’ Ismail said. ‘Shut up already-lah.’

‘Come inside,’ said Wong.

‘Don’t come near me,’ the terrified young woman squealed. She tried to move away from Wong, and temporarily lost her balance—and screamed again.

Ismail grabbed her shoulders. ‘
Aiyoh!
Go back, old man. You making her nervous. You making this situation dangerous, not me.’

Wong stopped moving. He appeared to be thinking about what Ismail had said. Then he nodded. ‘I think you are right. I do not want to cause harm to the girl, scare her, make her fall off. That would be very bad. I go back.’

He started shuffling the other way. Then he flipped over on his hands and knees and gingerly clambered, spider-like, out of sight.

‘Thank God he’s gone,’ Madeleine said. ‘Maybe that was it. Maybe he was the danger.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Maybe he was the danger that I was to face at this hour.

Now that he’s gone, maybe it’s all over. Can we go down now?’

‘Just wait. Little more time only,’ said Ismail.

They waited in painful silence. He looked at his watch. ‘Not long now. A few minutes and it will all be over.’

Five minutes passed as slowly as hours. Ismail murmured: ‘Nearly finish—oh no!’ This last comment was elicited by the sight of another head appearing over the curve of the roof. ‘
Alamok
,’ cursed the
bomoh.

‘Go away,’ said Maddy.

Then she gasped as she saw Joyce. The teenager was trembling from head to toe. Behind her, Wong was trying to pull her back. He was holding her arm so tightly that the skin of her forearm was white. ‘Come back. Must come back. You fall off, I will be in big trouble with Mr Pun. Please,’ the geomancer said.

‘Omigod-omigod-omigod-omigod,’ Joyce was chanting like a mantra. ‘Dear Jesus. Dear dear dear
dear
Jesus.’

‘Joyce?’

‘Maddy! Come in. You can’t sit out here. It’s like sooo dangerous. Come in
now.
Pleeeease.’

‘
Amran says I have to—
’ ‘Don’t listen,’ ordered Ismail. ‘Don’t talk.’

‘You come back,’ Wong ordered Joyce. ‘Crazy girl. Go down.’

‘Never mind what any of those stupid guys say,’ the young woman shouted. ‘Use your brain, Maddy. Is it dangerous to sit out here or what? Come
on.

’ ‘Something terrible will happen to me right now unless I’m really careful. It’s in my stars. I know it sounds crazy but I believe it,’ said Maddy.

‘I believe it too,’ said Joyce.

‘You do?’

‘I do. And I can tell you exactly what the bad thing is. The bad thing is that you have ended up in this incredibly dangerous place with a dangerous guy. Talk sense, Maddy. Come on.’

‘Don’t listen,’ Ismail repeated, tightening his grip on her.

‘He’s the dangerous one,’ said Joyce. ‘Not me. You know that’s true. Deep down, you know that’s true, don’t you? Don’t you? Answer me. I’m going to stay out until you come back.’

‘No,’ said Ismail.

‘No,’ agreed Wong. ‘You come inside now. I am your boss.

I order you. Come down now. Otherwise I sack you.’

‘No, you’re not,’ snapped Joyce, turning to him. ‘You sacked me already, remember? Down there.’

‘Oh. Okay, I give you your job back. Then I sack you.’

‘It’s too late.’

‘Please.
Must
come in.’

There was silence. Wong and McQuinnie turned to stare at each other. Both were dimly aware of shifting dynamics.

‘I’ll come in but I want promotion. I want the title of Personal Assistant. Intern sucks.’

‘Okay. You are Personal Assistant Intern Sucks. Now come inside.’ Wong was angrily hissing his words from between clenched teeth. ‘I am in big trouble with Mr Pun if you fall off.’

‘I want my own name cards.’

‘Okay, okay, own name cards, anything.’

‘I want a desk by the window.’

‘Okay, can do, no problem. Now come in.’

‘I want my own mobile phone.’