White Devil - A Beatrix Rose Thriller: Hong Kong Stories Volume 1 (Beatrix Rose's Hong Kong Stories) (6 page)

She ran the tap and filled the sink with cold water. She dunked her head into it, letting the sudden shock send the fatigue away. She dried her face.

She would avenge Lucas.

She just needed to find Isabella first. There was nothing she could do as long as Control had her.

She needed money to do that.

As she stared at her reflection, an idea began to take shape.

She was still staring when she heard the gentle tapping at the door.

She moved as quietly as she could back to the bed. She reached into her bag and took out the sheathed combat knife that she always kept in her go-bag. She dropped to the floor, sliding beneath the bed. It had been made up with a valance, the frilled fabric obscuring her from view save a half-inch gap above the floor through which she was able to peer out.

The tapping came again, a little louder and, then, after a short pause, there was the sound of a keycard being pushed into the reader. The lock retracted with a solid
chunk
, the door opened, and Beatrix watched as three men entered. The first man was wearing an expensive looking leather jacket. The second was wearing a crimson tracksuit and trainers, and the third had a vertiginous quiff that had been dyed with a white streak down the middle. The first man had a silenced pistol. His comrades were carrying meat cleavers.

The first man spoke, a quick snatch of whispered Cantonese that Beatrix could not translate. The second man opened the big floor-to-ceiling closet and started to rifle inside, and the third went into the bathroom.

The first man walked to the bed.

He paused at the bureau, and she heard the sound of him activating her cellphone. He would look through it for messages or useful numbers. He wouldn’t find any.

She slid the knife from the sheath. It had a nine-inch blade made from mirror-polished stainless steel. Her fist tightened around the Micarta hilt.

Beatrix knew she didn’t have long. They wouldn’t be so negligent as to not check under the bed.

The man walked closer.

Beatrix slithered nearer to the valance.

She heard him taking things out of her case and dropping them onto the bed. She watched his shoes, his right foot pressing up and down on the thick carpet.

She reached out and used the razored edge of the knife to slice through the Achilles tendons of both legs. He fell back, landing on the floor with a heavy thump. She slithered all the way out, and, as he was trying to reach for his legs, she plunged the knife deep into his heart.

The second man turned from the cupboard just as she yanked the knife out of the first man’s chest and threw it at him. It was close. She couldn’t miss. The blade thumped into his chest and stayed there. The man’s hands dropped down to the hilt and started to prod it.

Beatrix rolled over to collect the first man’s gun—a silenced Walther PPQ—and fired it. The shot blew the second man’s head apart and he pirouetted away into the short corridor.

The cupboard door was mirrored and she saw the third man in the bathroom, frozen there.

She got to her feet and took a step to the side.

The angle changed.

She saw the man.

She fired, two times. The first shot went wide, splintering the door frame. The second splashed into his throat. The man’s arms went limp as he slumped back against the wall and slid down to his backside.

She knew that she had to move fast. There could easily be others, waiting below. She took her cellphone and stuffed it into her pocket. She dropped the locket after it and stuffed her things into the go-bag. She stooped down to the second man, pulled out the knife, wiped away the blood on the duvet cover, and dropped it into the bag, too. She hurried across to the window and yanked it open. There was a fire escape that ran down the face of the building. She clambered out of the window and dropped down onto the metal landing. She started down the steps as quickly as she could. There was a short drop at the bottom and she paused, wincing at the pain in her side from the jar of the landing, and caught her breath. There were a few pedestrians walking along the harbour front, and a telecoms engineer working on a telegraph pole, but nothing that gave her cause for concern. With the Walther hidden from view against the side of her leg, she walked briskly around the hotel to the road. She waited again, looking left and right. But if there were any other triads in the area, they were keeping out of sight. She waited for a gap in the traffic and hurried across the road, descended into the underground lot and tossed the bag into the back of Chau’s car.

She got in. “Go.”

He drove up the ramp and merged with the traffic.

“It was all right?”

“Fine,” she said.

BEATRIX PROPOSED that they should go for something to eat. Chau was reluctant, saying that she should rest. She knew that his suggestion was partly motivated by concern for her well-being, but, for the most part, it was because he was uncomfortable with being seen in public. That was good. She wanted him to be scared. The proposal that she had decided to make stood a better chance of acceptance if he was frightened.

He was adamant that none of the restaurants in Tsim Tsa Shui were safe, but, in the end, he agreed on a compromise. He would take her to a place that he knew deep in the heart of Chungking. His confidence that he could hide there extended to the hundreds of restaurants that served the thousands of residents and visitors who thronged the corridors.

They accessed the building through a quiet side entrance. Chau regarded the homeless urchins who touted heroin and meth with suspicion, but, once they were inside, he allowed himself to relax. She followed him as he traced a path through back corridors and hidden stairs, emerging at last in Block E. There were a series of establishments along the corridor, each appealing to a distinct clientele. Beatrix saw a group of muscular Nigerians in tank tops and flip-flops. An African mama dressed in a traditional West African dress. Two Japanese backpackers, looking lost and confused. A family of Indians, the father sporting a pair of tight-fitting trousers with extravagant bell-bottoms. A Somali in a long robe. Arabs with their checkered scarves. They passed them all, stopping at the Khyber Pass restaurant. It was a dreary little corner of the building, lit by blue neon, the menu highlighted by a string of flickering Christmas lights. The proprietor, sitting on a stool outside the entrance, smiled warmly at Chau and they exchanged a few words. The man looked over at Beatrix, turned back to Chau and smiled at him with a lascivious leer that he didn’t even try to hide.

Chau took her to the front of the room, where the various dishes were displayed in green plastic tubs. There were plates piled with snails, giant crabs, emerald eels, and bloated, wart-studded toads. The final bucket contained a seething morass of brown, chubby snakes.

“What do you want?”

She settled for a bowl of vermicelli drowned in chicken stock, with a fried egg and lettuce. Chau loaded his plate with pork strips fried in crispy batter, a shrimp omelette with garlic, and steamed pak choi in oyster sauce. He paid at the counter and led the way to one of the cheap plastic picnic tables. Beatrix used chopsticks to pluck out the larger pieces of food, and a plastic spoon to drink the broth. Despite appearances, the food was delicious and she found that she was very hungry.

She watched him as they ate. He glanced down at his plate occasionally to guide his chopsticks, but his attention was focussed on the stream of people who were passing by the open door. In between bites, he chewed nervously on his bottom lip. He was anxious again.

“What will you do now?” she asked him.

“I do not know.”

“You’ll leave Hong Kong?”

“I have no choice.”

“But you would rather stay?”

“My business is here.” And then, gloomier, “But that is all gone now.”

“You’re sure Donnie wouldn’t listen to you if you spoke to him?”

He laughed. “Three of his men are dead.”

“No,” she said.

“What?”

“Not three. Six.”

“
What?
”

“The three in the bar plus the three in my hotel room this morning. I killed them. That makes six.”

He gaped at her. “You didn’t—”

“You said they would be looking for me. You were right.”

“But I don’t understand—”

“I told you that you didn’t know anything about me.”

“But—” he started before he ran out of words.

Beatrix leaned closer to him. “You need to listen to me, Chau. Carefully. I have an idea.”

“You have my advantage, Beatrix, because I have none. Please, tell me.”

“Donnie Qi is the problem.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said, as if speaking to a child. “Tell me something I do not know.”

“So why not solve the problem?”

“How?”

She spread her hands.

Chau laughed. “You cannot be serious. Kill Donnie?”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Because he is
Dai Lo
of the Wo Shun Wo. Do you know what that means?”

“Everyone can be killed, Chau.”

He shook his head vigorously. “Not him. He is impossible to reach.”

“If he was?”

“This is foolish.”

“You said before that he was unpopular among the others in the triad.”

“Yes.”

“So they might welcome it if he was removed. Perhaps it makes a problem disappear.”

“That might be so, but they will not welcome an outsider making a suggestion like that.”

“Humour me, Chau. You’ve been speaking to someone about him. You didn’t tell me his name.”

She watched his face as he decided how much to tell her. In the end he sighed and shook his head, resigned. “His name is Fang Chun Ying. He is also a
Dai Lo
. Donnie runs Kowloon around the Jade Lotus. Ying has Wan Chai. He has a club. The Nine Dragons.”

“How do you know him?”

“He and Donnie, they pretend to be friendly, but they are not friends. They have competing businesses, both legitimate and illegitimate. Ying has become aware of the quality of my work. Some time ago, he asked me whether I would be interested in cleaning for him. Of course, I say no. I could not. I worked for Donnie. He would kill me if he thought I was disloyal. Ying offered me much better terms, but it was irrelevant. I say no. Had to. No choice. “

“And how was he about that?”

“Disappointed. He said Donnie was unstable, that he was dangerous to triad, and that my future would be safer with him. He is right, of course. But Ying is realist. He would not press too hard. He knows Donnie would kill me. And he knows if he offered me his protection, and Donnie defied him, there would be problem between them. There was no future in it.”

“This Ying,” she said. “Can you get in touch with him?”

“Yes.”

“Set up a meeting.”

“For what?”

She looked him dead in the eye. “How much would you give me to take Donnie out for you?”

“
You
? Are you mad?”

“How much would it be worth?”

She saw the confusion on his face. “I do not know. A lot.”

“Thirty thousand.”

“Fine, thirty. What purpose is this serving, Beatrix? Is it joke? You cannot help.”

“Chau, I’m going to tell you something about me. I’m going to be completely honest with you, and you would be wise to believe me.”

He frowned. “Okay,” he said uncertainly.

“Before I came here, I worked for the British government. I was an assassin. I’ve killed more than a hundred people all around the world. Guns, knives, explosives, My hands when there was nothing else available. You should believe me when I say that I am the most dangerous person that you have ever met.”

“That is ridic—” he started. As he noticed her expression change, the rest of the sentence died on his lips. “That is… it is… I… You are
tourist
, Beatrix.”

“Those men in the bar. How many tourists do you know who would have done that? And the three men in my hotel room?”

He started to speak, but, unsure of himself, he stopped.

“It doesn’t really matter, Chau. From where I’m sitting, you don’t have any options. You could run, I guess, but the triads have a long reach. How far would you get? The mainland? No. That wouldn’t work. Even if you got away, you’d always be looking over your shoulder. You’d always wonder if this was the day that Donnie finally caught up with you. That’s no way to live.”

“The alternative?”

“Ying. He’s the alternative. If you can get him to agree, Donnie is in play. Can you set up a meeting?”

“He can’t help.”

“Of course he can. You pay me thirty and I’ll kill Donnie for you. But a man like him will be guarded. It will be difficult to get to him. But Ying benefits with him out of the way. You said that. And he knows him. Maybe he knows where he can be found at a particular time. Somewhere I can get to him. Somewhere he is vulnerable. You can leave the rest to me.”

She kept her eyes on him. He looked down at the table, his frown deepening the lines on his already furrowed brow. He put his lower lip between his teeth and bit it, nodded once, then twice, then looked up.

“I can try.”

CHAU WAITED at the dock as the Star Ferry nudged against the jetty. He looked across the water at the lights of the skyscrapers, reflecting in the blue. Hong Kong was two distinct urban sprawls, one on the Kowloon Peninsula and the other on Hong Kong Island. The ferry was an institution, beloved both by tourists who wanted the views of the skylines on both sides of the bay and by the native workers who could not afford the fares for the subway that ran from one side to the other. The two halves of the city were not so different, and the trains that whisked passengers between them were so sleek and swift that the uninitiated often emerged at their destinations without realising that they had passed beneath a mile of water.

The mooring lines were tossed down and knotted around the salt-encrusted bollards. The gangway was lowered, the gate opened, and the passengers disembarked. They streamed down to the dockside and disappeared off to the waiting taxis and buses, others swallowed up by the crowds of pedestrians that thronged the area. It was six in the evening and the temperature was still hot, the air clammy and wet with humidity.