‘Unproven? I can tell you who some of these men are. We just need to look through the Who’s Who of the world’s richest perverts – we’ll soon identify them.’

‘And what jury will convict them, Mann? Who’s going to stand up in court and condemn their whole family to certain death by convicting a highly connected triad? No one – that’s who.’ The Superintendent shook his head wearily as he slumped in his chair and sighed. ‘It wouldn’t get to court anyway. It would be thrown out by a judge, who’s probably in one of the bloody films. We have to swallow this, Mann. We have – no – choice.’

‘And Georgina, is she supposed to swallow it too?’

‘I am sorry, Mann. If she’s not dead already then she soon will be.’

Mann paused and shook his head slowly and sadly. He never thought that he’d see the day when the man he had looked up to all his life would sell out.

‘I never thought I’d hear you talk like this, David. I thought you had more balls and more integrity than this. Now that you’re about to retire, none of it means a damn to you any more.’

Superintendent White leapt up from his chair. It rolled back and crashed into the window frame. ‘Don’t ever talk to me like that. Not ever. Do you understand?’

‘Then tell me it’s not true, David. Tell me there’s not about to be one almighty cover-up, a trade-off, a pay-off?’

White went to stand by the window. He pulled angrily at the louvre blind, shutting its slats with a snap before turning back into the room.

‘Do you think I like it, Mann? Don’t you think I feel the same as you? I am disgusted with it all. I have given my life to upholding justice here in the region, never compromising, always putting my own life second. My reputation and credibility comes first for me – it’s paramount. You know that, Mann. But now integrity counts for nothing. Scum like CK are in charge – not us.’ He sat down heavily in his chair. ‘I had a call from someone very high up, Mann. There are to be no charges brought against any other individuals concerning the deaths at Club Sixty-Eight. Only the brothers will stand trial. The women went to the club willingly, consenting adults and all that bullshit.’

‘They consented to what? To being tortured to death? And the brothers are to take the rap for all the murders?’

Superintendent White nodded.

‘And I suppose they’re wanted in China on similar charges?’

He nodded again.

‘So, we have our two fall guys nicely stitched-up and facing a firing squad, while the money men walk free.’

‘That’s about the strength of it, yes. There will be no charges brought against Chan. CK will be responsible for keeping tabs on him from this moment on. Chan will stay in hiding until it all blows over. Then, when he returns, he will take a background role in the Wo Shing Shing from now on.’

‘Yeah, right! This whole thing might even work in his favour. CK takes the rap. CK has to watch his step – Chan escapes to start building a new life in the Philippines. Nice work! Well, David, you and the rest of the so-called justice system may have made a deal with the devil, but I haven’t. You may have sold your souls, but you didn’t sell mine. I am going to find Chan and make him pay, one way or another. I’m going to get Georgina back, safely. Then I am going to track down each one of those women’s murderers and bring them to justice. Whoever they are and whatever form justice takes.’

David White glared at Mann.

‘Don’t be stupid, Mann. You can’t win this one. You know what it’s like here. Money rules. Money is God. Money can buy anything, even justice.’

Mann had heard enough. He thumped his fist down on David White’s desk, upsetting the family photos and sending the rugby trophy flying.

‘Money might buy your type of justice, David. It’s never going to buy mine.’

102

If he was to secure a smooth path in his search for Chan and Georgina, Mann had to try and stay alive long enough to find them. Not an easy task when he was without police protection and surrounded by Wo Shing Shing. He knew it was time to up the stakes.

Two minutes after it opened, he joined the throng of people pushing through the revolving glass doors of the Leung Corporation building. He went through with the first rush of appointments and slipped into the stream of pencil-skirted, clicky-heeled secretaries tottering across the Italian marble floor, preparing for another day of money laundering. The whole building was dedicated to legit ways of using illegitimate triad funds.

Mann flashed his badge and slipped through security. He was hoping to make it up to the penthouse, where CK Leung had his office, without being stopped. It worked until he tried stepping out of the elevator on the top floor and was ejected straight back in. CK’s PA was flanked by half a dozen Wo Shing Shing gorillas, all flexing their muscles for a chance to hit someone so early in their working day.

‘Take it easy. I just want to have a chat with CK.’ He held up his hands for peace.

‘Mr Leung is a very busy man. You need to make an appointment,’ the PA – a slight, thin-faced, effeminate man – said before stepping back behind the gorillas.

‘This …’Mann flashed his police badge, ‘usually makes up for the lack of invitation. Tell him I want to see him.’

The gorillas started grunting. The PA put his small hand up for silence. He ushered Mann forward, and Mann grinned at them. ‘All right, boys? Nice suits. I didn’t know they made them in kids’ sizes. Cute!’

‘Follow me, Inspector. I will see if Mr Leung is free.’

They padded along on the thickest pile carpet Mann had ever trodden on. His leather soles sunk into it as he walked and he felt as if he were floating. It was over-the-top plush, with eye-popping décor that left you feeling slightly woozy with its purples and reds – like being inside a womb.

‘Please wait here.’

The PA left him sitting in the lounge area outside CK’s office for ten minutes, then he returned. ‘CK will see you now, Inspector. Follow me.’

As Mann entered, CK was standing by the window, looking out at his panoramic harbour view. He was in his customary Prince Charles pose – his hands clasped behind his back, his body leaning slightly forward, shoulders stiff. He was a slight man, elegantly dressed in a traditional Mandarin-collared dark suit. His luxuriant silver-grey hair was perfectly groomed and just touched the edge of his collar. There was an aura of calm menace about him, simmering just below the surface. Mann could feel it in the way he stood, the practised position of the all-powerful.

CK turned to acknowledge Mann – no smile, just a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. His face looked pale, thought Mann – tired. No, not exactly tired. More like white with anger.

‘Please, make yourself comfortable, Detective Inspector. Do you require some refreshment?’

‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’

CK nodded to his PA, who backed deferentially out of the room.

‘What is it, Inspector? How may I help you?’ He was frosty, curt, as he came back from the window to sit behind his desk, which was empty except for an antique jade dragon placed at his left side and a black phone console on his right.

‘Sorry. I know you’re a busy man, lots of arse-licking to do.’

CK looked up at Mann, shocked for a second, then he smiled – thin-lipped and mirthless.

‘Some of your English idioms don’t translate correctly into Cantonese. We quite enjoy arse-licking, it is thought of as one of life’s pleasures here. We are not so … anal as you British.’

‘That’s handy because you must have blisters on your tongue, the amount of people you’ve had to keep sweet since Chan’s little enterprise got discovered.’

‘If you are referring to Club Sixty-Eight, my son-in-law merely provided a service that others enjoyed. You have nothing on him – nothing that can be proven against him – and you have the case so cleverly wrapped up, with those brothers in jail.’