Necropolis

THE CHAIRMAN

The view was amazing. Scarlett had to admit it despite herself. She had never seen anything quite like it.

It was the middle of the afternoon, her first day in Hong Kong, and she was standing in front of a huge, plate glass window, sixty-six floors up in the headquarters of the Nightrise Corporation. The building was called The Nail and looked like one too, a silver shaft that could have been hammered into its position on Queen Street. She was in the chairman’s office, a room so big that she could have played hockey in it, although the ball would probably have got lost in the thick-pile carpet. Paintings by Picasso and Van Gogh hung on the wall. They were almost certainly original.

From her vantage point, Scarlett could see that the city was divided in two. She was staying on Hong Kong Island, surrounded by the most expensive shops and hotels. But she was looking across the harbour to Kowloon, the grubbier, more down-at-heels neighbour. The two parts were separated by what had to be one of the busiest stretches of water in the world, with ships of every shape and size somehow criss-crossing around each other without colliding. There were cruise ships, big enough to hold a small army, tied up at the jetty with little sampans, Chinese rowing boats, darting around them. Tugs, cargo boats and container ships moved slowly left and right while nimbler passenger ferries cut in front of them, carrying passengers over to the other side and back. There were even a couple of junks, old Chinese sailing ships that seemed to have floated in from another age.

The Hong Kong skyscrapers were in a world of their own, each one competing to be the tallest, the sleekest, the most spectacular, the most bizarre. And there was something extraordinary about the way they were packed together, so many billions of tons of steel and glass, so many people living and working on top of one another… It had already reminded Scarlett of an ant nest but now she saw it was for the richest ants in the world. There weren’t many pavements in Hong Kong. An intricate maze of covered walkways connected the different buildings, going from shopping centre to shopping centre, through whole cities of Armani and Gucci and Prada and Cartier and every other million-dollar designer name.

There was very little colour anywhere. If there were any trees or parks, they had been swallowed up in the spread of the city and even the water was like slate. Although it was late in the day, the light hadn’t changed much since the morning. Everything was wrapped in a strange, silver mist that made the offices in Kowloon look distant and out of focus.

While she was being driven there, Scarlett had noticed quite a few people in the street had covered their mouths and noses with a square of white material, like surgeons, so that only their eyes showed. Was the air really that bad? She sniffed a couple of times but could detect nothing wrong. On the other hand, the air in the car was almost certainly being filtered. The same was true of the office. The windows here were several centimetres thick, cutting out all the noise and the smells of outside.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”

Scarlett turned round. A man had crept up on her without making any sound. He was a European, about sixty, with white hair and thin, silver glasses and although he was smiling, trying to be friendly, she found herself recoiling from him… as if he were a spider or a poisonous snake. There was something very unnatural about the man. He had clearly had a lot of work done to his face – Botox or plastic surgery – but there was a dead quality to his flesh. His eyes were a very pale blue, so pale that they had almost no colour at all.

This was the chairman of the Nightrise Corporation. It had to be. He was wearing an expensive suit, white shirt and red tie. Very successful people have a way of walking, pushing forward as if they expect the world to get out of the way, and that was how he was walking now. He had a deep, throaty voice – he could have been a heavy smoker – and spoke with a faint American accent. There was a silver band on the middle finger of his left hand. Not the wedding finger. Scarlett somehow doubted that he would be married. Who in their right mind would choose to live with such a man?

“It’s all right,” Scarlett said.

The chairman seemed disappointed by her reaction. “There is no greater city on the planet,” he muttered. He pointed out of the window. “That’s Kowloon. Some people say that the best reason to go there is to admire the views back again but there are many museums and temples to enjoy too. You can take the Star Ferry over the water. The crossing is quite an experience, although it is one I have never enjoyed.”

“Do you get seasick?”

“No.” He shook his head. “When I was twelve years old, a fortune-teller predicted that I would be killed in an incident involving a boat. I’m sure you will think me foolish, but I am very superstitious. It is something I have in common with the Chinese. They believe in luck as a force, almost like a spirit. This building, for example, had to be built in a certain way, with the main door slanting at an angle and mirrors placed at crucial points, according to the principals of feng shui. Otherwise, it would be considered unlucky. And you see over there?” He pointed to a factory complex on the other side of the water, in Kowloon. “How many chimneys does it have?” he asked.

Scarlett counted. “Five.”

“It has four real chimneys. The extra one is fake. It is there because “four” is the Chinese word for death but on the other hand they believe that five brings good luck. Do you see? They take these things very seriously and so do I. As a result I have never been close to the water and I have certainly never stepped on a boat.”

He gestured at a low, leather sofa opposite his desk. “Please. Come and sit down.”

Scarlett did as she was told. He came over and joined her.

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Scarlett,” he said. “Your father told me a lot about you.”

“Where is my father?”

“I’m afraid I owe you an apology. I’m sure you were disappointed that he wasn’t here to meet you. The fact is that we had a sudden crisis in Nanjing.”

“Is that in China?”

“Yes. There was a legal problem that needed our immediate attention. Obviously, we didn’t want to send him. But your father is very good at his job and there was no one else.”

“When will he be back?”

“It shouldn’t be more than a week.”

“A week?” Scarlett was shocked. “Can I talk to him?” she asked.

The chairman sighed. “That may not be very easy. There are some parts of China that have very bad communications. The landlines are down because of recent flooding and there are whole areas where there’s no reception for mobile phones. I’m sure he will try to call you. But it may take some time.”

“So what am I meant to do?” Scarlett asked. She didn’t even try to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“I want you to enjoy yourself,” the chairman said. “Mrs Cheng will be staying with you until your father returns and Karl will drive you wherever you want to go. There are plenty of things to do in Hong Kong. Shopping, of course. Mrs Cheng has the necessary funds. There’s a Disneyland out on Lantau. We have all sorts of fascinating markets for you to explore. And you must go up to The Peak. Also, I have something for you.”

He went over to the desk and opened a drawer. When he came back, he was holding a white cardboard box. “It’s a small gift for you,” he explained. “By way of an apology.”

He handed the box over and she opened it. Inside, on a bed of cotton wool, lay a pendant made out of some green stone, shaped like a disc and threaded with a leather cord. Looking more closely, Scarlett saw that there was a small animal carved into the centre; a locust or a lizard or a cross between the two, lying on its side with its legs drawn up, as if in the womb. It was very intricate. If the work hadn’t been so finely done, it might have been ugly.

“It’s jade,” he explained. “And it’s quite old. Yuan Dynasty. That’s thirteenth century. Can I put it on you?”

He reached forward and lifted it out of the box. Compared to the delicacy of the piece, his fingers looked thick and clumsy. Scarlett allowed him to lower it over her head although she didn’t like having his hands so close to her throat.

“It looks beautiful on you, Scarlett,” he said. “I hope you’ll look after it. It’s very valuable, so you don’t want to leave it lying around.” He got to his feet. “But now I’m afraid I will have to abandon you. I have a board meeting. I’d much rather not go. But even though I’m the chairman, they still won’t accept my cry for mercy. So I’ll have to say goodbye, Scarlett. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

My cry for mercy…

Why had he said that? Cry for Mercy was the name of the monastery where Scarlett had been kept prisoner, on the other side of the door. Of course, he couldn’t possibly have known that but nonetheless he had chosen the words quite deliberately. Was he taunting her? The chairman was already moving back to the desk, but even as he had turned Scarlett thought she had detected something in his eyes, behind his silver-framed glasses. Was she imagining it? He had just given her an expensive gift. And yet, for all his seeming kindness and concern, she could have sworn she had seen something else. A brief flash of cruelty.

Scarlett spent the rest of the afternoon shopping – or window shopping anyway. She didn’t actually buy anything, which was unlike her. Back in England, Aidan had often teased her that she’d lash out money on a diving suit if it had the right designer label. But she wasn’t in the mood. She wondered if she’d caught a cold. It was still very damp, with a thin drizzle that hung suspended in the air without ever hitting the ground. She was also more aware of the silver-grey mist that stretched across the entire city, even following her into the arcades. The skyscrapers disappeared into it, the top floors fading out like a badly developed photograph. There was no sense of distance in Hong Kong. The mist enclosed everything so that roads went nowhere and people and cars seemed to appear as if out of nothing.

She asked Audrey Cheng about it.

“It’s pollution,” she replied, in a matter-of-fact sort of voice. “Its not ours. It blows in from mainland China. There’s nothing we can do.” She looked at her watch. “It’s time for supper, Scarlett. Would you like to go home?”

Scarlett nodded.

And then a man appeared, a little way ahead of them. Scarlett noticed him because he had stopped, forcing the crowd to separate and pass by him on both sides. They were in Queen Street, one of the busiest stretches in Hong Kong, surrounded by glimmering shop windows filled with furs, gold watches, fancy cameras and diamond rings. The man was young, Chinese, dressed in a suit with a white shirt and a striped tie. He was holding an envelope.

“Scarlett…” he began.

He disappeared. The moment he spoke her name, the crowd closed in on him. It was one of the most extraordinary things Scarlett had ever seen. One moment, the people had been moving along the pavement – hundreds of them, complete strangers. But it was as if someone, somewhere had thrown a switch and suddenly they were acting as one. Scarlett tried to look past the seething mass but it was impossible. She thought she heard a scream. Then the crowd parted. The man had gone.

Only the envelope remained. It was crumpled, lying on the pavement. Scarlett moved forward to pick it up but someone got there ahead of her… a pedestrian walking past. It was just a man going home. She didn’t even get a chance to look at his face. He snatched up the envelope and took it with him, continuing on his way.

“What was that?” Scarlett demanded.

“What?” Audrey Cheng looked at her with empty eyes.

“That man…”

“What man?”

“He called out my name. Then everyone closed in on him.” She still couldn’t take in what she had just seen. “He had a letter. He wanted to give it to me.”

“I didn’t see him,” Mrs Cheng said.

“But I did. He was right there.”

“You still have jet lag.” Audrey Cheng signalled and Karl drew up in the car. “It’s easy to imagine things when you’re tired.”

Scarlett was glad to get back to Wisdom Court even though she wished her father had been there to greet her. She was going to sleep in his room. Audrey Cheng had taken the guest bedroom. Karl, it seemed, would spend the night elsewhere. She had been completely shaken by what she had seen. How could a whole crowd behave like that? She remembered the way they had suddenly turned. They could have been controlled by some inner voice that she alone had been unable to hear.

She ate dinner, said goodnight to Mrs Cheng and went to her room. She hadn’t finished unpacking and it was as she took out the last of her clothes that she made a discovery. Someone had placed a guidebook for Hong Kong at the bottom of her suitcase. She assumed it must have been Mrs Murdoch and if so, it was a kind gesture – although it was odd that she hadn’t mentioned it. She flicked through it. “The World Traveller’s Guide to Hong Kong and Macau. Fully illustrated with thirty colour plates and comprehensive maps.” It was new.

But that wasn’t the only thing she found that night.

Scarlett had brought a little jewellery with her – a couple of necklaces and a bracelet Aidan had given her on her last birthday. She decided to keep them safe by putting them into one of the drawers in the dressing table. As she pulled, the drawer stuck. That was probably why nobody had noticed that it wasn’t completely empty. She pulled harder and it came free.

There was a small, red document at the very back. It took Scarlett a few seconds to recognize what it was, but then she took it out and opened it.

It was her father’s passport.

Paul Edward Adams. There was his photograph. Blank face, glasses, neat hair. It was full of stamps from all over the world and it hadn’t yet expired.

The chairman had lied to her.

If her father had left his passport in the flat, he couldn’t possibly have travelled to China. And now that she thought about it, there had been something strange about the note he had left her. Why had he typed it? It hadn’t even been signed. It could have been written by anyone.

It was eleven o’clock in Hong Kong. Four in the afternoon in England. Scarlett got into bed but she couldn’t sleep. She lay there for a long time, thinking of the passport, the passport official with the crocodile eyes, the chairman joking about the cry for mercy, the man who had tried to give her a letter.

She had only been in Hong Kong for one day. Already she was wishing she hadn’t come.