‘I thought you was doin’ it to keep your stamina up for the next time you take me out.’

‘That too,’ he grinned.

She stretched out her hand and moved aside the crow’s wing of dark hair that always fell over Mann’s left eye, before running her finger along the scar on his cheek. She was a lover of scars – emotional and physical – he knew that much about her. That’s how she’d ended up working on the other side of the world serving drinks dressed in a g-string.

She tilted her head to one side and softness crept into her eyes. Mann tried to avoid that these days. He liked her but he wasn’t interested in taking it further, and neither was she if she was honest.

He turned his head from her hand.

She drew back as if she’d been smacked in the face and twirled angrily away from him. He knew she wouldn’t like that. But she’d be back. She was a creature of habit – a boomerang. She always went full circle and ended up back where she started. She couldn’t even leave the Bond Bar. Sometimes she managed to stay away for a few days, even a few weeks, but she couldn’t hack it. She always came back with one excuse or another. Really she missed the adoration and the easy money.

Mann gave an inward shrug. He wasn’t one to judge or cast stones. Everyone had their buttons. Kim’s were complicated and yet simple – she looked for love but never wanted to find it. She didn’t think she deserved it. Mann’s buttons all merged into one big fat one, and it had a T for triad etched on the top.

30

Kim spun back to him and sat pouting. He was amused by her hurt expression. She was extremely easy to read. She had a catalogue of expressions and Mann had seen them all, even the ones that she didn’t know she had at certain moments. This one was number six – the ‘pretend to be hurt’ one.

‘You’re stressed out, Johnny. I can see it. You should learn to relax more. You should get yourself a girlfriend – someone you can trust.’

‘How do you know I haven’t?’

‘Coz I know you.’

‘Got anyone in mind, Kim? Does she work in a bar and spend her evenings in a spangly g-string?’

‘Might do.’ She pulled her hand away and resumed quarter turns on her island. ‘Anyway, it’s just a thought,’ she said, but fighting a smile.

She was a lot like him – Mann knew that. They might have come from different places, but they had arrived at the same point. He was a ‘love shy’ commitment-phobe. She was a ‘grass greener’ sort – always looking over her lover’s shoulder to the guy behind. But when she got it, she couldn’t wait to get rid of it. And the thing Mann knew about greener grass was that it still got weeds and it still needed cutting.

‘Anyway, Johnny, I might not be here much longer. I’m thinking of leaving this place.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. And don’t look at me like that. I mean it this time. I’ve had a good job offer.’

‘What?’

‘Can’t say. Not yet, anyways.’

Mann could see she was itching to tell him. He smiled to himself. He could tease it out of her if he wanted, but then what was the point? The job wouldn’t last five minutes. Then she’d be right back where she started – serving drinks in the Bond Bar in her smalls.

‘Maybe you’d like to come and work for me? I need a personal assistant.’

She laughed and spun away. Pausing with her back to him, she shifted her weight from buttock to buttock and stretched forward to serve some new punters. Mann smiled to himself. He knew the show was just for him. It was appreciated.

When she finished flirting, she spun back.

‘The thing is, Johnny – you pay me enough – I might just consider doing it.’

‘Money? I was thinking perks.’ He held on to her table and stopped her from moving. He wheeled her back to him. ‘I need to talk to you, Kim … it’s serious.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I need to ask you something.’

Her smile disappeared and she frowned at him. ‘What?’ She glared at his hand holding on to her table. Even that much control pissed her off.

‘We’re looking for someone at the moment. Has there been any talk among the girls of anyone they’re worried about? Any punter overstepped the mark?’

Kim thought for a minute before moving her head slowly from side to side. ‘No more than usual.’ She arched herself forward as close as she could physically get to Mann without giving the loud shirt behind more to look at than he’d paid for. ‘But then, you know me, Johnny, I don’t do that kind of thing – I’m a good gal.’

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he said. ‘How many foreign girls are working here, Kim?’

‘Seven at the moment. Different shifts. Why?’

‘All of them been here for some time?’

‘We had to replace a couple recently.’

‘What’s the turnover of girls like in here?’

‘Fast …’ she laughed, ‘and furious.’

‘Why?’

Kim gave a derisory snort. ‘It ain’t the kind of job you give notice to, Johnny. They don’t bovver showin’ up, then we know they’ve gone. Sometimes they turn up again ’cross town. Sometimes they come back after a month, just need a rest, a bit of head space.’ She leaned forward to whisper in his ear again. ‘You know, Johnny, you need to ask me more questions you could always buy me dinner?’

‘Are you on the same number?’ he asked, getting out his wallet to pay for the drinks.

‘Yeah, but you better hurry up, Johnny,’ she breathed into his ear, her heavy breasts resting against him. ‘I might get a better offer.’

‘Than me? Impossible.’

‘Mmmmm.’ She closed her eyes for a few seconds. ‘You’re a bastard, Johnny. But a lovely one …’

‘I’ll be seeing you, Kim …’ He pulled away. ‘… Very soon, I hope. Meanwhile, don’t take any risks. Watch yourself. I mean it.’

She recovered her composure, spun away once more and blew him a kiss over her shoulder.

‘Don’t worry, Johnny. I’ll be careful. And Johnny –’

He hovered.

‘Don’t wait too long. I get very fidgety.’

‘How could I forget, Pussy?’ he grinned.

At the top of the steps Sam was having trouble with a group of rowdy British holidaymakers.

‘Need a hand, Sam?’

A lairy drunk in a Manchester United shirt turned round and found himself two inches from Mann’s chest. He looked up, then stepped back.

‘Thank you, Inspector.’ Sam puffed himself out. ‘There’s no problem here. Is there, gentlemen?’ he said, forcing the suddenly well-behaved men into order. ‘One at a time. One at a time, and remember …’ he wagged his finger at the sheepish line, ‘all nice girls in here – the best – no touching titties.’ He flashed Mann a big smile. ‘Be seeing you, Inspector.’

‘Be seeing you, Sam.’

Mann stopped at street level, stepped out of the stream of people, and took out his list again. He scanned down it and then looked up again to get his bearings. He was reluctant to move on. He glanced back at the Bond Bar. It didn’t feel right … He didn’t feel good about leaving Kim and the others. They were all at risk, but there was no point in worrying every foreign woman working in Hong Kong. Besides, Kim wouldn’t listen to him anyway, and Mann was under strict instructions not to start a panic, a stampede out of the region – not to do any more damage to Hong Kong’s vital tourist trade. Not that Mann seriously cared about orders. If it would have helped, he would have told them all – but it wouldn’t help. Wrong place, wrong time … any one of them might just be the chosen one. The killer was definitely out there somewhere, sat at some girly bar, watching and waiting.

Mann looked at his list; he had several more places to visit that night. He needed to get to as many as possible. He needed to find out how many foreign girls there were, and where they worked – so that the next time one turned up dead, dismembered and dumped in a black bin bag, he might have a chance of putting a name to a head.