Necropolis

WISDOM COURT

The nightmare started almost from the moment Scarlett arrived at Hong Kong Airport.

She was still a Skyflyer Solo and the airline had arranged for an escort to meet her at the plane and to take her through immigration and customs. His name was Justin and he was dark-haired, in his early twenties, dressed like a member of the cabin crew.

“Did you have a good flight?” He spoke with an Australian accent and seemed friendly enough. “It was OK.”

“You must be tired. Never mind. I’ll see you through to the other side. Is this your first time in Hong Kong?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to love it here!”

He prattled on as Scarlett followed him to passport control. It would have been easy to find her own way – there were signs written in English as well as Chinese – but she was glad to have company after eleven hours sitting on her own in what had felt like outer space. The worst thing about the flight hadn’t been the length or the boredom. It had been the sense of disconnection. She was going somewhere she didn’t want to go, not even knowing why she was going there. What could be so urgent that her father had made her travel all this way? And why hadn’t he been able to tell her on the phone?

The airport was surprisingly quiet, but then it was only six o’clock in the morning and perhaps there hadn’t been that many international flights. Even so, Scarlett felt uneasy. She examined the people around her as they stood on the travelator, being carried down the wide, silver and grey corridors. The other passengers looked more dead than alive, bleary-eyed and pale. Nobody was talking. Nobody seemed happy to be there.

And there was something else that struck her. Everyone was heading the same way. They were all pouring into the main building. People might be arriving in Hong Kong but, this morning at any rate, no one seemed to be leaving.

They arrived at immigration, joining a queue that snaked back and forth up to a line of low, glass booths with officials in black and silver uniforms, seated on low stools. They all looked very much the same to Scarlett – small, with brown eyes and black, spiky hair. She put the thought out of her head. She was probably being racist.

And then it was her turn. The official who took her passport and arrivals card was young, polite. He opened the passport and examined her details and as he did so, she noticed a surveillance camera just above him swivel round to examine her too. It was quite unnerving, the way it moved, without making any sound, somehow picking her out from the rest of the crowd.

“Scarlett Adams.” The official spoke her name and smiled. He wasn’t asking her to confirm it. He was just reading it off the page as if he didn’t quite understand what it meant. Then he reached out for his stamp, inked it and brought it down on the passport with a bang.

And at that exact moment, he changed. Did it really happen or was her mind playing tricks with her after the long flight? It was his eyes. As the stamp hit the page, they seemed to flicker as if someone had blown smoke over them and suddenly they were yellow. The pupils, which had been brown a second ago were now black and diamond-shaped. The passport official glanced up at her and smiled and right then she was afraid that he was going to leap out of his booth and tear into her. His eyes were no longer human. They were more like a crocodile’s eyes.

Scarlett gasped out loud. She couldn’t help herself. She was paralysed, staring at the thing in front of her. The escort, standing next to her, hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Nobody else had reacted. There was a stamp as another visa was issued in the booth next door and Scarlett glanced in that direction as a student with a backpack was allowed through. When she looked back, it was over. The official was normal again. He was holding out her passport, waiting for her to take it. She hesitated, then snatched it from him, not wanting to come into contact even with the tips of his fingers as if she was half expecting them to turn into claws.

“We need to pick up your bags,” Justin said.

“Right…”

He looked at her curiously. “Is something the matter, Scarlett?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Everything’s fine.”

The cases took about ten minutes to arrive. Scarlett’s was one of the first off the plane. Justin picked it up for her and the two of them went through the customs area, which was empty. Presumably nobody bothered smuggling anything into Hong Kong. The arrivals gate was directly ahead of them and Scarlett hurried forward. Despite everything, she was looking forward to seeing her father again. He wasn’t there.

There were about a hundred people waiting on the other side of the barriers, quite a few of them dressed in chauffeur uniforms, some of them holding names on placards. She saw her own name almost at once. It was being held by a black man in a suit. He was tall and bald with a face that could have been carved – it showed no emotion. Somehow, he didn’t seem to belong in Hong Kong. It wasn’t just his colour. It was his size. He towered over everyone else, staring over the crowd with empty eyes as if he didn’t want to be there.

There was a woman standing next to him and Scarlett took a dislike to her at first sight. Was she even a woman? She was certainly dressed in women’s clothes, with a grey dress, anorak and fur-lined boots that came up to her knees. But she had the face and the physique of a man. Her shoulders were broad and square. Her neck was thick-set. She wore no make-up although she was badly in need of it. She had skin like very old leather. She was Chinese and half the height of the chauffeur, with black hair hanging lifelessly down and thick, plastic glasses that wouldn’t have flattered her face even if there had been something to flatter. She reminded Scarlett of a prison warden. It was impossible to guess her age. Forty? Fifty? She didn’t look as if she had ever been young.

Scarlett went over to her.

“Good morning, Scarlett,” the woman said. “Welcome to Hong Kong. I hope you had a good flight.”

“Who are you?” Scarlett asked. She wasn’t in any mood to be polite.

The woman didn’t take offence. “My name is Mrs Cheng,” she said. “But you can call me Audrey. This is Karl.” The man in the suit lowered his head briefly. “Shall we go to the car?”

“Where’s my dad?” Scarlett asked.

“I’m afraid he couldn’t come.”

“Where is he?”

“I will explain in the car.”

The escort – Justin – had listened to all this with growing concern. It was his job to hand Scarlett over to the right person and that clearly didn’t seem to be the case. “Excuse me a minute,” he interrupted. He turned to Scarlett. “Do you know these people?”

“No,” Scarlett said.

“Well, I’m not sure you should go with them.” He turned back to the woman. “Forgive me, Mrs Cheng,” he went on. “I was told I was delivering this girl to her father. And I’m not sure…”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Mrs Cheng interrupted. “You can see quite clearly that we were waiting for her. We are both employed by the Nightrise Corporation and were sent here by her father.”

“I’m sorry. She doesn’t know you and right now I’m responsible for her. I think you’d better come over to the desk and talk to my supervisor.”

Scarlett was beginning to feel embarrassed with two adults quarrelling over her, especially in the middle of such a public place. But Justin and Mrs Cheng had reached an impasse. The Chinese woman was breathing heavily and two dark spots had appeared in her cheeks. She was struggling to keep her temper. Suddenly she snapped out a command, her voice so low that it could barely be heard. The chauffeur, Karl, lumbered forward.

“Now hold on a minute…” Justin began.

It looked as if Karl was going to punch him. But instead he simply reached out and laid a hand on Justin’s shoulder, his long, black fingers curving around the escort’s neck. There was no violence at all. Then he leant down so that his eyes were level with the other man.

And Justin caved in.

“You’re making a fuss about nothing,” Mrs Cheng said.

“Yes…” He could barely get the word out.

“Why don’t you phone the Nightrise offices when they open? They’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“There’s no need. Of course the girl can go with you.”

“Let him go, Karl.”

Karl released him. Justin swayed on his feet, then abruptly walked away. It was as if he had forgotten about Scarlett. He wanted nothing more to do with her.

“Let’s be on our way, Scarlett. We’ve wasted enough time here.”

Scarlett picked up her case and followed Karl and Mrs Cheng down an escalator. A sliding door led to a private road with a number of smart executive saloons and limousines waiting for their pick-ups. Karl took the case and hoisted it into the boot. Meanwhile, Mrs Cheng had opened the door, ushering Scarlett into the back.

“Where are we going?” Scarlett asked.

“We will take you to your father’s apartment.”

“Is he there?”

“No.” Audrey Cheng spoke English like many Chinese people, cutting the words short as if she were attacking them with a pair of scissors. “Your father had to go away on business.”

“But that’s not possible. He just got me out of school. He made me come all this way.”

“He has written a note for you. It will explain.”

They had left the airport. Karl drove them across a bridge that looked brand new with steel cables sweeping down like tendrils in a web. The airport had been built on an island, one of several that surrounded Hong Kong. Everything here was cut into by the sea.

They reached the outskirts of the city and Scarlett saw the first tower blocks, five of them in a row. They warned her just how different this world was going to be, how alien to everything she knew. All five tower blocks were exactly the same. They had almost no character. And they were huge. Each one of them must have had a thousand windows, stacked up forty or fifty floors in straight lines, one on top of another. From the road, the windows looked the size of postage stamps and anyone looking out of them would have been no bigger than the Queen’s head in the corner. It was impossible to say how many people lived there or what it would be like, coming home at night to your identical flat in your identical tower, identified only by a number on the door. This was a city that was far bigger than the people who lived in it. Hong Kong would treat its inhabitants in the same way that an ant hill looks after its ants.

The motorway had turned into an ugly, concrete flyover that twisted through more office and apartment blocks. It was only seven o’clock in the morning but already the traffic was building up. Soon it would start to jam. Looking down, Scarlett saw what looked suspiciously like a London bus, trundling along with far too many passengers crammed on board. But it was painted the wrong colours, with Chinese symbols covering one side. Hong Kong had once belonged to the British, of course. It had been handed back at the end of the Nineties and although it was now owned by China, it more or less looked after itself.

They passed a market where the stalls were still being set up and made their way down a narrow street with dozens of advertisements, all in Chinese, hanging overhead. Finally, they turned into a driveway that curved up to a set of glass doors in a smaller tower block. Scarlett saw a sign: WISDOM COURT. The car stopped. They had arrived.

Wisdom Court stood to the east of the city in what had to be an expensive area, as it had the one thing that mattered in a place like this: open space. The building was old-fashioned – with brickwork rather than steel or glass. It was only fifteen storeys high and stood in its own grounds. There was a forecourt with half a dozen neat flower-beds and a white, marble fountain, water trickling out of a lion’s head. There were two more lions with gaping mouths, one on each side of the door. Inside, the reception area could have belonged to a smart hotel. There were palm trees in pots and a man in a uniform sitting behind a marble counter. Two lifts stood side by side at the end of the corridor.

They went up to the twelfth floor, Karl carrying the luggage. Audrey Cheng had barely looked at Scarlett since they had left the airport, but now she fished in her handbag and took out a key which she dangled in front of her as if to demonstrate that she really did have a right to be here. They reached a door marked 1213. Mrs Cheng turned the key in the lock and they went in.

Was this really where her father lived? The flat was clean and modern, with a long living room, floor-to-ceiling windows and three steps down to a sunken kitchen and dining room. There were two bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. But at first sight there was nothing that connected it with him. The paintings on the wall were abstract blobs of colour that could have hung in any hotel. The furniture looked new… a glass table, leather chairs, pale wooden cupboards. Had Paul Adams really gone out and chosen it or had it been there when he arrived? Everything was very tidy, not a bit like the warm and cosy clutter of their home in Dulwich.

But looking around, Scarlett did find a few clues that told her he had been there. There were some books about the Second World War on the shelves. He always had been interested in history. The fridge had some of his favourite food – a packet of smoked salmon, Greek yoghurt, his usual brand of butter – and there was a bottle of malt whisky, the one he always drank, on the counter. Some of his clothes were hanging in the wardrobe in the main bedroom and there was a bottle of his aftershave beside the bath.

And there was the note.

It was printed, not written, in an envelope addressed to Scarlett and it wasn’t signed. Scarlett wondered if he had asked his secretary to type it. He only used two fingers and usually made lots of mistakes. The note was very short.

Dear Scarly,

Really sorry to do this to you but something came up and I’ve got to be out of Hong Kong for a few days. I’ll try to call but if not, enjoy yourself and I’ll see you soon. No need to worry about anything. I’ll explain all when we meet.

Dad

Scarlett lowered the note. “It doesn’t say when he’ll be back,” she said.

“Maybe your father doesn’t know.”

“But he’s the only reason I’m here!”

Mrs Cheng spread her hands as if to apologize but there was no sign of any regret in her face. “This afternoon I will take you into the place where your father works,” she promised. “We will go to Nightrise and you will see the chairman. He will tell you more.”

Karl had carried Scarlett’s suitcase into the spare bedroom. So far he hadn’t said a word. He was waiting at the front door.

“I’m sure you’re tired,” Mrs Cheng said. “Why don’t you have a rest and we can explore the city later. Maybe you would like to do some shopping? We have many shops.”

Scarlett didn’t want to go shopping with Audrey Cheng. It seemed that the two of them were going to be together until Paul Adams returned. It wasn’t fair. Had she really swapped Mrs Murdoch for her? But she was certainly tired. She had barely slept on the plane. Right now, in London, it would be about midnight.

“I would like a rest,” she said.

“That’s a good idea. I will be here. Call if there is anything you need.”

Scarlett went into her room. She undressed and had a shower, then lay on the bed. She fell asleep instantly, darkness coming down like a falling shutter.

And once again she returned to the dreamworld, to the desert and the sea. She could sense the water behind her but she was careful not to turn round. She remembered the creature that had begun to emerge – the dragon or whatever it was – and didn’t want to see it again.

Everything was very still. Her head was throbbing. There was something strange in the air. She looked for the four boys that she had once known so well and was disappointed to find that they were nowhere near.

Something glowed red.

She looked up and saw the sign, the neon letters hanging in their steel frame. They were flashing on and off, casting a glow across the sand around them. But the words were different. The last time she had seen them, they had read: SIGNAL ONE. She was sure of it.

Now they had changed. SIGNAL THREE. That was what they read. And the symbol beside them, the letter T, had swung upside-down.

SIGNAL THREE

SIGNAL THREE

What did it mean? Scarlett didn’t know. But behind her, far away in the sea, the dragon saw it and understood. She heard it howling and knew that once again it was rushing towards her, getting closer and closer, but still she refused to turn round.

And then it fell on her. It was huge, as big as the entire world. Scarlett screamed and after that she remembered nothing more.