White stopped abruptly. He wanted to say more, but one look at Mann told him he had already overstepped the boundary.

‘My father stood up for what he believed in, David. He died because he refused to pay protection money to a bunch of thugs. Just because it’s the norm doesn’t make it right. My father died rather than compromise his beliefs.’

‘I know. I know.’ White held his hands up, calling for a truce. ‘But it was such a great loss … Such a huge loss for you and your mother. For all of us.’

Mann knew that the Superintendent meant it – White missed Mann’s father. He missed all the good men he had known in his life. He was coming up to that point when he looked back and reminisced more than he looked forward. The last year had seen the Superintendent shrink inside the uniform that he used to fill with such pride. His retirement couldn’t come quick enough now, and yet it was the last thing he really wanted.

White inhaled deeply and shook his head, world weary.

‘And now I begin to despair that anything will make a difference any more. Fighting against the triads is useless. They have moved north to do their business in China. It will be impossible to control them now.’

It was the first time Mann had heard him speak in those terms. It took him by surprise. He had never thought of his old friend as a quitter.

‘I know things have been difficult since the Handover, but we will win in the end, David. Believe me, we will find a way to defeat them. I’m not prepared to give up. And you’re right – I don’t see a grey area when it comes to justice.’

‘Mann – let’s face it, you love to tread on toes. Since the Handover there are a lot of well-connected criminals that the Chinese government call patriots who we are supposed to accept as pillars of the community – when we all know them to be nothing but gangsters.’ White shook his head sadly. ‘And the trouble is, you don’t know whose toes they are until you step on them too hard and it’s too late to say sorry.’

‘I’m not going to apologise for any of it, David. If people have nothing to hide then they shouldn’t fear me. I didn’t join up to allow the triads to run Hong Kong … I just don’t get it – returning to China was supposed to mean tougher penalties on triads – they used to shoot these guys daily. But now the Chinese government is making deals with them. How does that work?’

‘I don’t know. It’s hard to know who’s pulling the strings these days in the government and in the police force – especially at the OCTB.’

‘Tell me about it.’ Mann pinched his thumb and forefinger together. ‘I was this close to nailing that bastard Chan. I was getting really close to finding out exactly what he was up to, when whoosh.’ He threw his hands up in the air. ‘They virtually took my chair away from beneath me and posted me out to the back of beyond.’

The Superintendent sat back in his old leather chair, which had served him for the last thirty years but was now beginning to show its age, just like its owner. Then he sat up, looked hard at Mann and slammed his forearms on the arms of the chair.

‘But, for now, I need this case solved – ASAP. And that’s what we need to concentrate on, not the triads and definitely not Chan. I know how much you hate him, Mann. I am with you on that, but I want no personal vendettas played out now. His time will come, I promise you that.’

He paused for a moment as if he intended to speak further on the subject, but then thought better of it. Mann knew what he was going to say. He was going to say that Mann would be a better policeman if his judgement wasn’t sometimes clouded by his hatred of all things triad and especially of all things Chan-related. And that Chan was not responsible for the death of Mann’s father. But David White didn’t say it. He merely paused, and the pause said it all.

‘Now, as for the workings of it all,’ he said, businesslike once more and changing tack. ‘I am to head the investigation. You will be my second-in-command. We will set up an operations room at the end of the hall downstairs. We have recruited officers from all over the district to help. Some are already here. The rest will be arriving tomorrow. Detective Sergeant Ng and Detective Li will share an office with you. It’ll be a bit cramped and hot, but then you know what it’s like at Headquarters – no such thing as working air-con.’

‘Hot and sweaty – just the way I like it.’ Mann got out of his chair and picked up his jacket.

‘Remember what I said, Mann – be careful, but most of all be clever, and don’t let that hot head of yours take charge.’

‘You know me, David …’

‘That’s what I’m worried about. I promised your mother I’d keep you alive at least until I retire, and I’ve only got six months left. Please wait till I’m safely back home with my garden gnomes and Sunday papers before getting yourself killed, will you? Now, where are you going to start?’

‘In the Sports Bar.’

‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’

‘Not for the person I want to talk to.’

9

Mann picked his way past the police officers on the stairs and paused in the entrance hall before passing through the heavy oak doors. He stood on the black and white tiled floor and breathed in the smell of lavender wood polish and Brasso and allowed himself a self-congratulatory moment. He had been given a reprieve, for which he was extremely grateful. Now he was back in the building he loved, working on a proper investigation instead of chasing traffic offenders. If he was lucky they wouldn’t transfer him back when the case was finished. If he was lucky and very good … so not likely then.

He went outside, crossed the car park and walked the steep road down to Central District. The area was number one in the region for shopping and commerce, with its golden skyscrapers, plush shopping malls and one of the most prestigious hotels in the world – The Royal Cantonese. Many deals were struck by an elite few in its Sports Bar, past the Doric columns and just left of the foyer.

James Dudley-Smythe was propping the bar up as Mann walked in. Originally from Cambridge, he had lived most of his life in Hong Kong. He was fabulously wealthy, with a large house on the Peak. He owned a fleet of Rolls-Royces and employed two full-time chauffeurs. But money really hadn’t brought him happiness. Besides his massive drinking problem, rumour had it that he could only achieve an erection when indulging in rough sex. Pain was what did it for him, if anything did any more.

He picked up hostesses on a nightly basis, but half the time he couldn’t remember whether he’d got what he paid for or not. Most of the girls were wise to it and knew that if they gave him enough drink he would pass out and they could get their money for doing nothing. Some weren’t quite so lucky.

Mann sat down on the stool next to him. ‘How’s it going, James?’ he asked, as the waiter brought him a vodka on the rocks.

Dudley-Smythe was, as always, impeccably dressed: sports jacket, cravat, pressed trousers and shiny brogues. He liked to say that you could always tell a man’s breeding by the state of his fingernails. He never missed his weekly manicure.

‘Rather well, thank you, Mann. And yourself? Married yet? I thought you were going to marry that pretty English girl?’

‘No, afraid not.’ Mann shifted his weight on the bar stool. ‘Been too busy. Talking of which, I’m working on a big case at the moment. Maybe you can help me with it?’

James replaced his glass on the bar, a little unsteadily, and motioned to the barman for a refill. ‘Shame that … I thought she looked perfect for you. Feisty little thing, wasn’t she?’ James Dudley-Smythe took a sideways glance at Mann.

Mann said nothing – he’d let the old drunk have his fun a little longer. He waited while the barman finished pouring his drink.