Kiss and Die

Chapter 8

Mann was grateful to get out of the building. He left Headquarters and walked through the small lush garden that fronted it. The palms were being watered with a fine mist. It clung to his skin and cooled quickly as he took the steps up to the elevated walkways slung between Hong Kong’s buildings like Tarzan ropes, allowing the city’s seven million residents to escape the pavements and move from building to building all in the name of commerce. Money was king, queen and country.

Mann stood six foot two and weighed a hundred and eighty pounds. It was less than his usual weight. But he had been ill. He’d caught malaria in the jungles of Burma. He’d nearly died rescuing his eighteen-year-old half-brother who was supposed to be building a school for refugees and ended up getting kidnapped. Mann had had no choice but to go.

He checked his watch; he was early. He had time to phone. He stood on the walkway and took out his phone.

‘Mum?’

She was pleased to hear his voice, he could tell. ‘Are you better? I haven’t seen you properly since you came back from Burma.’ Her accent was old school English: loosened a little by modern times but still tight, taut.

‘I’m all right, Mum. I’ve been busy.’

Mann allowed the pause that followed. He was used to pauses when he talked to his mother. They had so many things to say and yet they said very little. They loved one another but they were too alike. If one closed emotionally then so did the other.

‘Have you time to come over soon?’

‘I’ll see. I have so many things to sort out at home.’

‘Your father’s affairs?’ A frosty, hurt voice.

‘Yes.’

Mann rubbed his face with his hand. He was irritable now. Talking to her agitated him at the moment, he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath.

‘Look Mum, I have to go. I’ll call you later.’

Mann closed the phone and slipped it back in his pocket. Now he really felt like shit. He knew what she’d be doing. She’d be staring out of the French windows, listening to the carriage clock tick. Her grey eyes would be filled with the colour of the sky. Her prim, upright figure would be stiff shouldered. She would be feeling like shit. Just like Mann.

Now his father’s secrets were out, Pandora’s Box was open. His father hadn’t just had another family in Amsterdam; he had supplied most of Europe with heroin. His father wasn’t just any Triad, he was a very good one. The chatter of the birds greeted him as he walked up into the botanical gardens off Albany Road at the top of Central district. Apart from that it was quiet; it was too early for the tourists. The place had the smell of the tropics, freshly washed, birds squawked. Fountains filled the air with their fresh cool sound. Across the square he saw a small figure sat on a bench, her head down, her feet scuffling at the seeds and fallen leaves that had yet to be brushed up by the park attendant. Mann thought how young she looked, a skinny little slip of a girl. She might be twenty but she looked twelve. That’s why they’d been able to use her. He sat beside her but made sure they didn’t look as though they were together. He turned his head from her. Neither acknowledged the other. He rested his arm on the back of the seat. The sparrows gathered around their feet.

‘How’s it going? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?’ Mann asked.

‘Yeah, but I’m building up my rep as a wild child.’ Tammy sipped her can of Coke. ‘I’ll go in a minute. I’m just missing maths.’

‘Did you hear about last night?’

‘I heard about it. I heard that someone got killed.’

‘Yes. A young Indian girl. We are still waiting for formal identification. Do you have any idea who she is?’

‘They say she was someone from the Mansions. Her family lives there, they have a tailors on the first floor.’

‘Why was she killed, Tammy?’

‘I don’t know. There are a lot of rumours. They say she was an informer from another society, that she had told someone outside about the ceremony, that she had accepted money in exchange for information. I don’t know. I think maybe she was just picked as a show of strength. Now everyone is really scared. A lot of the girls are really shaken up by it. I have seen them huddled together, whispering, crying. It’s finally hit home that it’s not a game.’

‘Maybe now they will want out.’

Tammy didn’t answer at first. ‘I don’t think so, Boss. They are tough kids, scary tough. They don’t care about anything but money, MP3 players, watches. If anything, I think this death will bond them, strengthen their loyalty. These are just kids but kids see the cruelty of the world differently than we do. They frighten me. I think they will increase their members by this. It becomes more real, more exciting. They have no concept of death, of dying or being killed. They have no concept of the rest of their lives either. They feel no hope.’

‘Who’s doing most of the recruiting?’

‘Older girls. Sometimes from outside school. They wait for the kids when they come out. The one who is recruiting me is called Lilly Mendoza. She is in my year. She’s mixed race. Her mother is a singer in the hotels. They live in the Mansions.’

‘I know her mother – Michelle. I’ve known her since before Lilly was born. Try and find out more about who’s further up the ladder. We know they’re a breakaway branch of the Wo Shing Shing, we need to know a lot more. We need to know what their specific aims are, who their high-ranking officers are. Keep pushing, Tammy. The faster we find out what’s going on, the faster we can get you out.’

‘Yes, Boss.’ Tammy paused. ‘Boss…how much longer do you think I will have to stay undercover? I miss the real world. I miss seeing my boyfriend, seeing my parents.’

‘I hope it won’t be for much longer, Tammy. This was only meant as a short operation. I know it’s a hard one. You’re doing a good job. Not many officers would have had a hope in hell of infiltrating this group. You’ll be guaranteed a place in the Bureau after this. It will be great to work with you when you get out of this operation.’

‘If I get a place in the OCTB it will be worth it, sir.’ Tammy stood and picked up her bag. ‘I gotta go, Boss. Got my school uniform to change into. See you later.’

‘And Boss, I have a name for you for the new society: the Outcasts.’