When she saw Mann she slid off her stool, picked up her drink, and followed him over to a table near the fire. Mann signalled to the barman that he would have his usual. As he did so, one of the snifter brigade looked up and held his gaze. Mann stared back. The man was white, early fifties, silver-haired, well-groomed. He looked like he had money and looked after himself. As Lucy left the bar, she nodded to the man.

‘Good evening, Inspector,’ she said, setting her drink down and positioning herself in the armchair oppos ite. Then, as she smiled at him, Mann saw the only similarity between her and Georgina – a mouth that formed an almost perfect circle, topped with a cupid’s bow. Hers was painted deep red to match her nails.

‘Do you know that man?’ He nodded in the direction of the bar.

‘I met him once. He’s a surgeon.’ She giggled softly, looking Mann over. ‘Lives in a nice apartment. Loves his clothes. Smart dresser, like you.’

Mann looked over. The surgeon was once again talking to his colleagues.

‘Do you always wear Armani? You look very handsome.’ She tipped her head to one side, picked up her Coke, searched for the straw with her tongue, and flicked it into her mouth.

The barman arrived and set down his drink. Mann looked hard at Lucy. She was full of games. She certainly had balls.

‘No, I don’t always wear Armani.’

‘Always wear designer, though? Not fake, made in Hong Kong. You wear genuine Paris, Milan. Am I right? Last time I saw you, you were in Valentino – very expensive – very nice.’

Mann smiled. She was definitely bold. This woman could handle herself and just about anybody else. She was one of Hong Kong’s survivors. You never got to see the ones who didn’t make it. There was no place for them in Hong Kong.

He picked up his attaché case and unzipped it. ‘You have a good memory, Lucy – impressive. Strange you didn’t remember this then …’ He threw the blow-up photo of Gosia’s tattoo in front of her. ‘Do you recognise it?’

Lucy glanced at the photo casually. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘You never saw Gosia Sikorska’s tattoo?’

‘This is Gosia?’ Lucy’s jaw dropped.

‘What’s left of her … yes. And you never saw the tattoo before?’

‘I knew she had a tattoo but I never saw it. She was very modest.’

Yeah, right …

‘… And you gave descriptions of other girls who lived in your apartment. Thanks for that. But they weren’t terribly detailed, were they, Lucy? I expected you to remember something about the women you lived with. You could be describing any foreign women, any place, anywhere. You lived with these women. You must have known them better than this?’ He rattled her statement.

Lucy shrugged. ‘You know how it is. When I first started to take in the Gwaipohs, I got to know them, made friends. But, after the first few, when they came and went so fast, I couldn’t be bothered any more. Mostly they kept themselves to themselves. They preferred it. I didn’t like to pry.’

You have to be kidding – you’re a woman – you never get tired of finding out about other people’s lives. That’s what made the female detectives so good at their job.

‘Well, if any more tattoos, birthmarks, glass eyes or wooden legs come to mind, you’ll let me know?’

‘Of course, Inspector. Immediately.’

‘And Lucy …’ Mann leaned forward and tilted Lucy’s chin upwards. ‘If you are hiding something, protecting someone, in the hope of getting something out of it, I should warn you, you may get more than you bargained for.’

Lucy called his bluff and raised him some.

‘I completely understand, Inspector.’ She pursed her lips around the straw and sucked.

Mann looked back at the bar – the surgeon had gone.

46

Mann took the MTR back to the Island. It was quicker than the ferry and there was something refreshing about it. So different from London or Paris, where you descended into darkness and depression that made so many want to finally seek that last resort and jump under an approaching train. In Hong Kong, after descending from the infernal noise, heat and crowds above, you found bliss: cool, air-conditioned, clean, white-walled, wide passageways, and hardly any people. Bliss …

He got out at Wanchai and cut across Johnson Road to the Bond Bar.

‘All right, Sam? How’s business? Plenty of punters?’ he asked as he came down the steps.

‘Very good, sir, and yours? Plenty of bodies?’ Sam grinned.

‘Word’s out, huh? Thought it wouldn’t take long. Enough bodies to keep me busy, thanks, Sam. Is Kim working tonight?’ he asked as he stepped inside.

‘Kim’s gone, Inspector.’

‘Gone where?’

‘She said she’d found a better job. Left today. She brought me this. Look …’ He extended his arm, and beneath the red satin sleeve was a diamond-encrusted fake Rolex. ‘It’s a really good one – keeps perfect time.’

‘That’s nice. Where did she go?’

‘Sorry, Inspector, she wouldn’t say.’

Mann went inside. There was a new girl at Kim’s station. She was auburn-haired, pretty, with a small muscular frame, pert breasts and nipples like pencil tips. She was dressed in lace knickers. Mann was just about to go over for a chat when he caught Honey Ryder looking at him from across the room. She was entertaining a couple of Chinese middle management who were escorting some visiting Americans and showing them a good time on the company account.

He made his way across to her. She looked up and beamed her beguiling gap-toothed smile at him as he approached. She’d exchanged the French knickers for a black thong and a laced red and black corset that ended beneath her small round breasts, pushing them up and emphasising them perfectly – like pink tennis balls. The corset would have looked tacky on anyone else, but on Honey it just looked like she’d been rifling through her mum’s ‘Saturday night’ drawer and was about to get found out any minute. There was always something about Honey that begged to be spanked.

‘Good evening, Johnny. The usual?’ she asked, wiggling like a child wanting the toilet.

‘Thanks, Honey. How’s things? I see you’ve got your convent outfit on.’ He perched on the suede-covered stool.

She giggled shrilly and spun away to make his drink. She dropped the ice noisily into his glass and overfilled it before spinning back round to face him.

‘Everything’s super, thanks, Johnny,’ she said, flicking her long fringe away from her eyes with a shake of the head.

He had forgotten how pretty Honey was: her green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles over her nose. She looked and was still a little girl, not woman enough for Mann. Whenever possible he tried to avoid the ‘fuckedup little girl’ ruined by some man or other – probably her father – who was still trying to make herself into a beguiling child to get love, even from strangers.

She leaned towards him and Mann wondered if she had freckles everywhere.

‘But I’m sure you want to know something else,’ she said, setting his drink down.

‘You’re right, Honey.’ Mann glanced towards Kim’s station. ‘Just curious. Where did she go? Did she say?’

Honey tilted her head to one side and twiddled with her hair, rocking back and forth on her heels. ‘She said you wouldn’t like it if you knew, Johnny. She said I wasn’t to tell you. But …’ She stopped rocking and sat up straight. ‘She’s not here and I am.’ She giggled, then looked up at him from beneath her fringe. ‘Remember that, Johnny. When you get lonely, you can always give me a call. I’ll bring my teddy bear and we can sleep over.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, Honey. I will certainly do that, and tell Teddy to wear stockings.’

She giggled again.

‘Where did she go, Honey?’

Honey rolled her eyes. ‘All right, you win. She went to work for some bloke – I don’t know who. She was offered a lucrative job, in-house somewhere.’