The Trafficked

21

Hong Kong

Stevie Ho walked up from Central to the Peak terminal and waited in the tunnel entrance for the tram to come to a stop. There were only a few people waiting. It was too early for the tourists and too late for the few workers who went upwards to the Peak to work. Stevie was going because he had been summoned.

He sat at the back of the school-like wooden benches and waited for the juddering tram to crank itself into life. As it grunted its way forwards and upwards, the gravity coupled with the incline pinned Stevie back to the seat. He felt the wooden back of the bench dig into his spine. He was a big man, broad and carrying a little more weight than he used to. His back ached and he had a touch of gout-he had to lay off the drink completely. He shook his head. Thirty-five, no drink, what a fucking life! But secretly he didn’t mind: the lack of booze had made him smarter, more alert, and he knew that he needed every ounce of intelligence he could muster now. His life was on the line.

The tram ascended, leaving Central behind and inching its way upwards, slicing the Mid-levels in half. Stevie looked about him, peering into peoples’ windows, roof gardens, front rooms, lives, as he went. Plenty of time to stare-the journey was fifteen minutes, it gave him time to collect his thoughts. He knew what CK wanted to say and he knew why he had brought him to the Peak to say it. He wanted to make sure they were alone. He wanted to talk about the taboo subject-the day his son in law, Chan, had died. He would want to know if Stevie had been there and if Stevie could have stopped it.

The tram came to a halt and he walked around the corner and onto Lugard Road, which was more of a pathway than a road. Almost immediately he was met by the view that so many came to marvel at every day. Past the shimmering bamboo forests was a wall of skyscrapers, magnificent against the blues of sea and sky. He stood and waited and watched Hong Kong. He didn’t often get time to do that and he knew the man he’d come to meet would already be watching him. He knew he’d be walking over to him at that very second. He took a last look at the glittering harbour far below, before turning to the man who had come to stand beside him, and then he inclined his head towards him in a small bow of respect.

‘Good morning, CK.’

‘Walk with me, Stevie.’

The two men walked along the narrow road, which was cool and dark and had the smell of damp vegetation and the sound of noisy crickets. Around another corner and the islands appeared, sunbathing in a sea of glitter below them: Lantau, Macau, Green Island and Peng Chau. CK walked slowly with a measured pace; he would not be hurried.

‘Look down on these islands, Stevie. Was it on one of these islands that Chan was killed?’

‘I heard it was off Cheung Chau, sir.’

‘But we haven’t got a body to prove it, have we?’

‘No, we don’t, but if he drowned I think his body will have been eaten by the sea by now.’

‘Do you?’ He stopped and stared hard at Stevie. ‘I want to know how Chan died.’

‘I did not see it, CK.’

‘They say you were there. You did not protect him. You did not save him…They say you betrayed him.’

They walked on. Below them the junks and sampans of Aberdeen were bobbing in the water like blown-in litter collected at the coves. CK stopped and faced Stevie. Stevie was taller by a few inches and he was twice the breadth of the older man, but he had none of CK’s calm or coolness. Stevie’s bald head was getting hot; his forehead was shining with sweat. His small eyes looked puffy in his bloated face as they squinted in the glare. CK’s face was untouched, bone-dry, unmoved by earthly feelings.

‘Here is the solution I propose. I did not care for my son-in-law, he was not an asset to the Leung Corporation. He was a man with many vices and faults. But I cannot ignore your desertion of duty, your lack of loyalty. I cannot be seen to allow it-it would mean “loss of face”. We will make a deal, you and I, a private arrangement. It will be just for our ears. My daughter Amy is still missing.’

Stevie bowed again. He held up his hands in an apologetic gesture.

‘I delivered the ransom, CK. They want something more than money.’

‘Are we sure who has her?’

‘I believe she has been taken by a new society that call themselves the White Circle. I know little about them, but I do know they are making trouble for us across the globe. They are taking over some of our trafficking routes in the Philippines. They are disrupting many of our shipments.’

‘I need them stopped. The abduction of my daughter will give me this opportunity. I have involved Johnny Mann. He will soon realise that in order to get my daughter back he will need to destroy the White Circle. That will leave us free to snap up the routes that become vacant as Mann destroys them. That will be your job. Follow Mann, make your deals along the way, buy up everything you can and expose the White Circle for Mann to do his work. Make him think you have changed sides. Make him believe that you are working for the White Circle. After the job is complete, Mann will not live long. There are many people in Hong Kong, many amongst our brethren, who will pay well to see him dead. You will oversee it. That will be your first duty in your new command. You will be promoted to the rank of Paper Fan, the same rank Chan held, and you will have your own team to command. You will be in charge of the trafficking throughout the Philippines into the UK and Europe.’

‘What about your daughter?’ Stevie studied the old man. He had worked for him all his adult life, but still CK’s callous nature never ceased to amaze him. He knew what he would say.

‘If I were them I would have killed her by now. I don’t believe she is still alive.’

‘But if Mann manages to find her?’

‘We will not consider that option until we have to. Many doors will open to us by then. Many others will close to him.’