109

Chan came into the room and threw a small package onto the bed. He reached into his pocket and took out a hundred-dollar bill and a lighter and threw them down with it.

‘You’ll have to chase it. There are no needles here. Now take it and shut up. No more screaming.’

He left.

Georgina shuffled forward into a corner of light at the end of the bed, and laid the ingredients out in a line in front of her. So neatly did the packet contain its dusty block of China White that its corners unfolded like an origami puzzle. There would be enough in there to have several hits. She knew how to do it. She’d watched the amah who came to clean her room take it on the days when she’d lain on her bunk staring at the walls. She’d seen the ritual it involved.

She picked up the foil, and stretched it gently on her thigh. She needed to smooth out the creases so that the liquid heroin would not snag and fizzle to nothing too quickly, or run a ragged path and be too difficult to chase. She tapped out a small amount of heroin onto the smooth sheet of foil before setting it carefully to one side. She picked up the hundred-dollar bill and rolled it into a tight tube between her fingers, and then picked up the lighter and paused.

Her thoughts went to Ka Lei. If she took the heroin there would be no going back, no point in being rescued. She would be back, spinning in the rain with her Ka Lei. It would mean that she had accepted her fate and that she was prepared to die one way or another – by Chan’s hand or by her own. But it would be so nice to feel better for a while. She placed the note in her mouth, flicked the lighter and picked up the foil. It would take no more than a few minutes to go into her bloodstream, then she would be back in the no-feeling zone. Back among the living dead – untouchable – unreachable. She would be lost forever.

She paused. Ka Lei would not have wanted her to do it. She would have expected her to stay strong, to weather it. It wouldn’t be long now before she would feel better – the withdrawal couldn’t last forever.

She owed it to Kim, to Ka Lei. She owed it to herself to fight back. Leeches, Kim had said they were, and she had been right. Georgina was worth more.

She picked up the envelope and tiptoed over to the window. Taking the neatly folded packet between finger and thumb, she pushed her arm between the bars, as far as it would go, and shook the packet. The heroin flew away like ash – like death on the wind. It disappeared. She was damned if she’d give up the fight yet.

She stood for a few moments, leaning her head against the cool bars, then, turning her head away from the light, she listened. For a second she thought she heard someone call her name.

110

It was midnight when they docked. Mann and Li left the boat in moorings and headed inland. They stopped at the busiest-looking restaurant on the road that cut across the island to the beach. The bulk of clientele were sat at tables and chairs outside. Groups of foreigners with their rented girlfriends were noisily demonstrating their inability to hold their drink. Mann and Li went inside. Just a few elderly Chinese were enjoying a chat with the proprietor – the rest of the place was empty. It wouldn’t be long before they shut, and they were taking a rest at the end of their busy evening. Mann spotted the owners – a husband and wife team who looked like they’d been in business there for a long time and knew both the island and its people very well. If anyone knew of strangers arriving, they would.

Mann and Li sat at a central table and waited for the wife to amble over with the menus.

‘Menoo Engleesh?’ she asked, looking at Mann.

‘I’d prefer it in Cantonese. Unless, of course, you only speak English?’ answered Mann.

‘Ha ha!’ The rotund proprietress held her stomach with her small fat hands and laughed. She turned to share the joke with her husband and the other three old people sat with him at a table by the bar.

‘See! I told you I speak good English – this man didn’t think I could speak Chinese!’

The whole group fell about laughing.

‘Come and join us. Come!’ The proprietor made space around the table.

‘Is this your son?’ the proprietor asked Mann, pointing at Li as they sat down. Before Mann had time to answer, the wife spoke. ‘You need to loosen up, like your son…get your shorts on…you still young…enjoy yourself…you’re on holiday here on Cheung Chau.’

‘My son has aged me prematurely.’ Mann patted Li’s cheek. ‘That’s children for you.’

The fat proprietress tutted and giggled as she stood and went to fetch a bottle of rice wine, and returned with seven glasses. She poured them out and handed them round before disappearing again to return with an assortment of noodle dishes and rice bowls.

‘How long are you staying on Cheung Chau?’ she asked.

‘We really wanted to see about hiring a cottage by the beach. Do you know if any are free?’

One of the old women spoke up. ‘There is one that’s always free. I clean it, but the man who owns it doesn’t usually let it out.’

The proprietress stopped, midway through refilling Mann’s glass.

‘He’s here at the moment – your man. I saw him. He passed by here this morning.’

‘The man who owns the chalet? I wasn’t told to expect him.’ The cleaning woman looked bemused. ‘I am always informed when he’s coming. I open it up for him, get it ready. He’s only ever been here once before, mind you. He lets others use it sometimes – business friends – not very friendly types. Was it definitely him?’

‘Yes. He passed by this morning with a young woman – tall, beautiful. She looked so pale and tired, I felt sorry for her. I asked her if she wanted something to eat and drink but your man pulled her away – he was in such a hurry.’

‘Yes,’ her husband added. ‘And then more men arrived, dressed in suits. Must be his friends.’ The old people nodded knowingly to one another. ‘And one man arrived alone, just an hour ago. He passed by here – looked inside – did not stop.’

‘What did he look like – the man on his own?’ asked Mann, pushing his bowl aside having left a small amount inside to signify he was full.

‘He was tall – he had a small beard – bald headed, Chinese.’

‘Where is that chalet?’ asked Mann.

‘Down to the end, turn right, follow along to the first lot of chalets, it’s last on the left. But it’s no good if he’s there. You better look for somewhere else. Where will you stay tonight? You can sleep here. We have a room upstairs you can rent for a night.’

‘Thank you, that’s very kind, but we will sleep on the boat. In fact, I’d better get my son to bed. He looks tired out. Come on, sonny!’ Li finished eating hastily.

‘But who shall we say wants to rent his chalet – if he asks?’ The fat old proprietress followed them out and stood with her hands on her hips – a mischievous look on her face.

‘There’s no need to mention anything.’ Mann peeled off three hundred-dollar bills and pressed them discreetly into the proprietress’s fat hands.

She smiled gratefully and inclined her head. ‘You know – your Eengleesh so bat, I can’t understand you. I think you never here.’

111

‘Do you know the man they’re talking about? The one who arrived on his own?’

‘Stevie Ho – he’s an old acquaintance.’

Mann and Li turned back towards the ferry terminal.

‘What’s his business here? Is it us?’

‘Yes. I would say so.’

‘Does he work for Chan?’

‘Yes, but his loyalties are split between CK and Chan.’

They turned left and then headed inland. Mann wanted to approach the chalet from the busy side of the island. If Chan was expecting trouble at all, he would expect it to come from the ferry side.