He looked Becky up and down. ‘Fuck, Johnny, not bad!’ he said, in Cantonese.

Mann grinned. ‘Have some fucking manners and speak English, you peasant. Becky—this is Detective Tin…Ponytail. He is one of our best undercover cops and an old friend. Becky is working with me on a case. She’s from London.’

Ponytail wiped his hand and then shook Becky’s.

‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘I got your message. What have you got for me?’ asked Mann.

‘I guess you heard the rumour about you working for CK?’

‘I heard.’

‘There’s an even better one than that. The talk is that you’re working for the new society—the White Circle.’

‘Is that the best you have for me, Ponytail?’

‘They say that CK has set the whole thing up. He wants this war so that he can wipe out all the opposition in one go and take over all the profitable trafficking routes. They say he is in charge of the new group using the Caucasian traffickers who are already established in the Philippines to do all the work for him, and then he will get rid of them.’

‘Why would he order the arson attack on the trafficked women in London?’

Ponytail shook his head, screwed up his face. ‘To throw us off the scent. To make it look realistic. I don’t know, but I know anything is possible with him.’

Mann looked at Becky and gestured toward the pile of bags.

‘You can’t leave without one.’

‘Take your pick.’ Ponytail pulled a sheet from a pile behind the door, pulled off a Kalashnikov rifle from the top of a pile and revealed high-quality Chanel replica bags. He put the gun to one side. ‘Here, have this one—it’s the best. Goes with your outfit.’ He handed her a dainty cream clutch bag.

‘Thanks.’ Becky took it reluctantly but looked secretly pleased. Mann wondered when was the last time she had been given something.

‘That’s five hundred Hong Kong, Mann.’

‘Fuck off! I’m not paying for that shit. Three hundred, tops.’ He grinned.

Ponytail shook his head. ‘Four.’

‘Throw in a couple of matching travel bags and it’s a deal.’

31

Suzanne sat on the chair at Amy’s desk whilst Amy brushed her hair. Suzanne said the brush was made from real boar bristle. Amy wanted to ask Suzanne where the bristles came from, and did she mean a wild boar, like a pig? But she didn’t ask because Suzanne got cross when Amy talked. She liked Amy to be quiet and concentrate on the brushing, and if she didn’t then Suzanne would be horrible to her again. She would make her drink the salty water like the day before, and then Amy had been sick all night. Amy had had to sleep by the toilet because she mustn’t be sick in the bed, because Suzanne would hit her.

The bristle brush was soft. That meant that Amy could brush Suzanne’s hair with long hard strokes, the way she liked it. Suzanne closed her eyes.

In the next room, the spotty one, Tony, had left the telly on when he’d left, and Amy could hear

EastEnders.

Amy recognised the theme tune. She didn’t watch it normally. It came on at a time when she was doing prep, but she had sometimes seen the omnibus on Sundays.

Suzanne was getting drunk. Amy had seen people drunk a few times. She’d even seen her own mother drunk. She would start happy, laughing and singing, and then become miserable. Sometimes Amy had been fast asleep and her mother had come and woken her up to tell her how much she loved her, and Amy had smelt the booze on her breath. But, she did love her—that was the main thing. Amy could tell that Suzanne didn’t even like her. And Suzanne had such bad moods. Amy didn’t know what she was going to be like from one minute to the next.

‘Suzanne?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you married to Lenny?’

Suzanne closed her eyes again and took a swig of gin.

‘I will be, just as soon as he dumps his wife. He promised me he’d have it done by now, but he still fucking hasn’t.’

Suzanne waved her hand in the direction of her glass and Amy picked it up.

‘How did you meet Lenny?’

‘I met him at home in Nanjing. He had business there. I was working as an interpreter.’

‘That’s why you speak such good English.’

‘Yes…’ She gave a drunken giggle. ‘…and I’ve been fucking western guys since I was not much older than you. I lived with a German for three years from when I was sixteen. That’s why my English has an accent.’

‘Yes, you have a strange accent. Not strange…’ Amy corrected herself quickly as Suzanne opened her eyes and glared at her ‘…but different…’

Suzanne tapped the glass with her false nails. She was still waiting for Amy to go and refill it. Amy took it from her and went out into the kitchen to do it. Amy had become an expert on gin-mixing in the few days that she had been left alone with Suzanne. She had even been allowed to go next door, into the lounge and the kitchen, to fetch the gin and tonic and to refill the ice tray when needed. Now Amy knew where lots of things were. She saw where they slept, when they took it in turns to stay over in the flat; she saw where Tony hid his porn magazines; and she saw where the spare keys for the front door were.

Amy came back in with a fresh drink for Suzanne, who was waiting for her.

‘Every woman has to make the best of herself, Amy. I have had to—you will have to. In this life women need to make use of

all

the assets they have to make it.’

‘Yes.’ Amy started reeling off a list. ‘Women need to be strong, intelligent…’

‘Of course we’re fucking intelligent.’ Suzanne’s eyes snapped open and she swung an angry look at Amy before settling back into her seat and signalling for Amy to continue brushing. ‘We’ve always been more fucking intelligent than all those pricks…Women need to know how to work the system, Amy: use your…’ She opened her eyes and looked Amy up and down. ‘…use anything you have. That’s what I will teach you, Amy. I have plans for you. Things have changed. Stand over there, Amy…’ Suzanne pulled Amy’s arm roughly, making her stand in front of her. ‘Take off your clothes. Let me look at you.’

Amy batted her eyes and her brace got dry and made the sucking sound.

‘Take that fucking brace out of your mouth. You’re not going to need it any more anyway.’ Suzanne sighed, exasperated, and looked Amy up and down. And don’t even bother to take off your clothes—I can see exactly what you look like; we need to put you on a strict diet. Come here…‘Amy inched towards her. ‘Give me that thing in your mouth…spit it out.’

Amy reached into her mouth and dislodged the plate.

‘Throw it in the bin—

do it.’

Amy went to the bin and dropped it inside.

‘Suzanne—let me do your hair now. I love your hair. You’re so beautiful, Suzanne—like a model. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Please let me do your hair…’

Suzanne’s phone rang. She answered. Amy knew it was Lenny on the phone because of the way Suzanne’s voice changed. Then Amy saw her smile disappear as she listened hard, concentrating on what Lenny was saying. Something wasn’t right.

‘Yes. Yes, I will do it now. Yes, okay. You know I will.’ Suzanne closed her phone.

‘Was that Lenny?’

‘Shut up and hand me my bag.’

Amy did so reluctantly. She knew what that usually meant. She watched Suzanne dig into the large leather bag and bring out the bottle of pills that Amy had seen many times since she arrived at the flat. Suzanne tipped out one into her palm.

She passed Amy the glass of gin and tonic.

‘Take it.’

Amy screwed up her face as she tasted the gin, but she knew better than to cross Suzanne.

‘Now lie down and go to sleep.’

Amy did as she was told. Suzanne watched her take the sleeping pill, then she went into the lounge to get ready. Amy lay down on her bed and pulled up the duvet. She waited for the familiar heaviness to come down on her. She listened to the sound of Suzanne tidying up the kitchen, washing the coffee cups. She heard her moving around the lounge; occasionally she heard her come back to Amy’s door, feeling her presence as she looked in to see if Amy was asleep yet, then went back to the lounge.