Another knock on the door. A young man waited outside, briefcase in hand. He was immaculately dressed, if a little too carefully, and to the feminine side: his eyelashes were too long, and his mouth was slightly too wide with a smile that required a tilt of the head and a pursing of the lips to perform.

‘Mr Sun Yat-sen?’

‘Yes.’

The young man entered. ‘How do you find the room?’

‘Good. Very good.’

‘Let me refresh your drink for you.’ He poured out another scotch and placed it in front of Sun Yat-sen. Then, with a small bow, he sat perched on the edge of the leather sofa, knees together, legs tucked to one side.

‘Now, Mr Sun Yat-sen, I have been looking at your requirements.’ He looked up from Chan’s letter, which he had in front of him. ‘I believe that you are more interested in the fantasy side of Sixty-Eight rather than the gambling?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Normally our clients like to have the full experience of earning their fantasy – but, when you come with this sort of recommendation …’ he fluttered Chan’s letter, ‘we don’t tend to argue.’ He giggled as if his voice had never broken. ‘As you know, we do not use currency here – clients pay a fee to enter and earn the rest. Your benefactor has, of course, provided unlimited funds for you. So, you may have whatever you desire. Although …’ he smiled his wide smile and batted his inch-long lashes, ‘you may find it more fun to earn the points needed in some other way …’

The young man shifted his legs to the other side and waited for an answer. Sun Yat-sen just stared at him.

‘Well, let’s see now, your fantasy is pretty straight anyway, isn’t it? I believe that you wish to have some intimate time with one of the girls, preferably foreign.’

‘Must be foreign.’

‘I see, well, that can be done. And no other requirements, sir? Believe me, you can ask me for anything you wish.’

‘I don’t think so, but thank you for the thought,’ Sun Yat-sen replied, growing tired of the young man.

‘It’s my job.’ He stood and bowed. ‘See you later, Mr Sun Yat-sen, enjoy your fantasy, she will be waiting for you in the nightclub.’

75

Big Frank had decided to update his image. He had hair extensions glued onto his own white-blond strands of thinning hair. The hair once belonged to a fourteen-year-old Bangladeshi girl named Sonali. In order to achieve the look that Big Frank required, the hair had been bleached till it was ruined. Sonali had been paid enough to buy her brother some shoes so that he could walk the five miles to school each day. Sonali never went to school – there wasn’t one for girls.

Big Frank had bought himself a pair of tight leather trousers and a Harley Davidson motorbike, which he kept beneath the stilts of his Captiva house. He wasn’t able to ride it yet. Occasionally he flicked back his long hair, hoisted his creaky leathered leg over the saddle, and straddled the Hog, making engine noises. He kept a helmet for Lucy on the back. He had decided to ask her to marry him. There was some quality in her that he just hadn’t found elsewhere. Whether it was her devotion to her work, the pleasure she took from it, or just that she knew which of Frank’s buttons needed pushing – he had decided he could do a lot worse than spend the rest of his life with a willing whore. He caught a plane back to Hong Kong to seal the deal.

Lucy had accepted Chan’s deal, and she wouldn’t be returning to work at the club. She had a new job – looking after Ka Lei. Soon Chan would want them to move into the flat he had in mind for them. Then Lucy would have to tell Ka Lei that she had a new life ahead of her. That her nursing career meant nothing. It was over before it began. She would have no more money worries but she would have no freedom either. She would be owned by Chan.

Lucy dreaded telling her. She couldn’t do it yet – Ka Lei was deteriorating daily. She went from pacing around the flat to sitting on her bed for hours, staring at nothing. She was going mad, Lucy was convinced of it. She spent much of her time talking to the bathroom mirror: I love you, Georgina. Come back to me, Georgina. I can still see you in my eyes, Georgina … She repeated it endlessly. Lucy asked her what she was doing. She was talking to Georgina, she said. She could see her in the mirror, in her eyes, in her soul. Lucy despaired.

Ka Lei was sleeping when Big Frank called. Lucy was delighted to hear his voice. He wanted to see her straight away. She told him she couldn’t. Maybe tomorrow. But Frank was adamant. She must come over – he had one helluva surprise for his good little Hong Kong girl – something really special.

Lucy knew she shouldn’t go but she was sick of hanging about the flat looking after Ka Lei. She would love to get dressed up, go out and have some fun … So she agreed to go. She’d see him in his hotel room in one hour.

She left Ka Lei sleeping. She didn’t intend to be more than an hour – Ka Lei would be fine until she came back.

The rain woke Ka Lei. She listened out for Lucy. There was only silence and she knew she must be alone in the flat. She lay in her bed and watched the light change in the room as evening came, and she watched the shadows stretch out around Georgina’s room. Outside it was raining hard: tropical, pouring, soaking rain, streaming down the dirty windows.

Ka Lei began to feel panicky. She looked at her watch – Lucy had been gone for at least two hours now and Ka Lei had no idea where she was. She tried ringing her sister’s mobile, but it was switched off. She felt that panic again, like the day Georgina had disappeared. It squeezed her heart in a tourniquet. She couldn’t breathe. She listened to the rain and her mind went back to the happy days when she and Georgina had been caught in the downpour. Laughing and splashing like children, they got soaked. They didn’t care about the people who watched them, thinking they were mad. They didn’t care – they had each other.

Ka Lei cried so much that her stomach hurt.

Finally, exhausted by her grief, she wiped her face with her dress. Looking up from her lap she saw that darkness had descended. She watched the rainfall stick in large globules to the oversized windowpanes and she felt suffocated, imprisoned. She got out of her seat; her tiny frame was agitated now. The memories of Georgina that made her smile were the hardest to bear. The sadness weighed her down, but the happy memories cut so sharply that they made her want to scream with despair. She went to the bathroom for the hundredth time that day. She needed to look into Georgina’s eyes. She switched on the bathroom light and stood in front of the mirror, touching its cold surface, tracing the outline of her face with her fingers. Her eyes flicked back and forth, endlessly searching.

76

In the centre of the room was a king-sized bed, draped in purple silk. A red velvet pillow was laid at the top of the bed and on it rested the sleeping head of Georgina. She wasn’t actually asleep, she had been given a dose of Rohypnol and was merely inert. Her hair was brushed and laid out artistically over the pillow. Her cheeks blushed a rosy pink. Her lips were painted red. She was naked. She remained very still as all around her lights were adjusted. She heard the voices of the technicians but could not open her eyes to see their faces. Above the sound of equipment being adjusted and technicians communicating, she heard the sound of people: voices and laughter, but she could do nothing but listen. She was an inanimate object, fully aware of her body but unable to communicate to it.

Then she felt the man’s breath on her face. She felt the crush of his body. She felt him inside her. From some faraway place she felt it – the pain and the hatred. She saw it accurately, recorded it, but could do nothing to reach it. She couldn’t breathe. Squeezing hands were around her throat. She was drowning.