‘Come on kids…please. That’s enough now. Let me go. I am sorry for whatever…please.’ Blood poured from his wounds; it dripped onto the stone floor.

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. They attacked him from all sides, slashing with a frenzy. Hafiz stamped on his dying body. The African’s eyes popped from his skull and his teeth clattered on the concrete floor.

Chapter 27

Shrimp brought Rajini’s parents back from the morgue and left them at the entrance to the Mansions. He went to the middle of the ground floor where there was a plan of the Mansions’ layout. He took the stairs up to the next landing. The Africans stopped what they were doing to watch him pass. They followed him down corridors overcrowded with people, constantly moving. The smoke bit into his eyes. There was no ventilation in the narrow corridors. There was no natural light whatsoever. The wailing of an Indian woman singing was reaching a crescendo. There was not one part of China there.

He looked back to see if he was still being followed. Ahead of him the corridor had turned into a mini Lagos. The black men leant on walls, sat on the floor on rugs smoking. They filled the air with the boom of their deep voices. The air was thick, pungent with cigarette smoke and cooking. Shrimp was approaching the end of the corridor, now he was the only non-African on that side of the landing. He stopped, turned and started back down the way he’d come. Five of the men blocked his way. Shrimp recognized the man from the lift. He looked at his feet. He was the one with the cool trainers. Shrimp smiled. He grinned back. He was brutally handsome: his features were hardened by scars. His eyes had a light of some inner mischief. The others weren’t smiling.

‘Excuse me. Do you know where I can buy some trainers like that?’

‘Come with us.’

Shrimp felt a large hand on his shoulder. He was steered inside one of the shops selling all sorts of goods: sweatshirts wrapped in cellophane hung down from every part of the ceiling, boxes of shoes were stacked to the roof. A crate was presented for Shrimp to sit on.

‘Your name?’

‘Li. My name is Li. They call me Shrimp. And yours?’

‘David. You want trainers? Here.’ David pulled down box after box and lifted the lids. He left them stacked beside Shrimp. He stood and watched Shrimp pretend to choose. Then he knelt down next to him, so close that Shrimp could make out every open pore, every scar on his face. ‘I saw you with your friend in the lift. You helped the Kenyan girl, she’s in trouble bad with smack. You a doctor?’

Shrimp shook his head.

‘A policeman?’

Shrimp looked at the others. They stood around the doorway. The corridor outside was full of dark faces watching him, not speaking, not moving. Gone was the laughter; they were listening intently. Shrimp kept his eyes glued on David. He reckoned anything that would happen would happen with him. The rest would take orders. If Shrimp was aiming to get out alive he had to be very fast on his feet. He had the advantage of being slight, slippery as well as athletic, but when he looked at the size of David’s bicep, snagged on the t-shirt, he was having doubts about his chances. He nodded.

‘So, what you doing here?’ asked David.

‘We had some reports of trouble. I wanted to take a look for myself.’

David wiped the sweat from his upper lip. Shrimp had never smelt the smell of stale sweat so pungent as it was in the small room. ‘We are used to the heat,’ said David, as if reading Shrimp’s mind, ‘but we are not used to the humidity. You guys don’t sweat much, do you?’

‘I’m sweating now,’ Shrimp smiled.

Chapter 28

Mann looked at the card Victoria Chan had given him. The address was a building he knew on Peking Road, just a stone’s throw from the Leung Corporation. He looked at his watch. It was close to ten. He knew where she’d be right now, where all the smart set went. She’d be in the Oceans bar having post-dinner drinks. On Peking Road, top floor. He stepped out of the lift and into the arms of the hostesses waiting to meet and greet at the entrance. This bar was uber chic, always a little too dark. He turned right and up the small flight of steps into the main bar. It had 360° views and floor-to-ceiling sloped windows that gave the impression the diner was floating in the Hong Kong sky.

The bar was crowded with Chinese entertaining clients and wealthy lonely locals looking for company. A round of drinks had a minimum charge which would have bought a dinner for a family of four elsewhere. But that was the very reason people came. Hong Kong was all about showing you could afford it and this was the bar of the moment. Mann got a seat at one of the tables that overlooked the eating area on the mezzanine below. He ordered his usual – vodka on the rocks. The pretty young waitress brought it along with a selection of nuts.

He’d taken his first sip when he spied Victoria Chan in the private booths to his left. He’d guessed right. There she was, tucked in the VIP area: private booths with sofa-type seating and endless skyline. He only just recognized her – no twinset and pearls today – a Roland Mouret Galaxy dress and a pair of killer heels. Her loose hair curled like a fifties film star. He knew it was her because she knew it was him. She was looking for him too.

Mann got the uneasy feeling he was on a film set and being directed and she knew he would show up when he did. She was sitting with CK’s PA and what looked like five visiting businessmen: one Caucasian, two Asians, a Korean and a Japanese, obviously getting the special treatment and being taken out by the boss’s daughter.

An interesting mix, thought Mann. She obviously had international aspirations and had her beautifully manicured fingers in lots of international pies, and she wasn’t afraid of anything. A couple of Wo Shing Shing bodyguards sat with them. Mann recognized them from his visits to Leung Corporation: their bodyguards were as square as they were tall. The bodyguards zeroed in on Mann as he approached. They were on their feet before Mann had reached the table.

‘Sorry to interrupt. Urgent message for Ms Chan,’ Mann smiled at the businessmen. ‘You’ll have to excuse Ms Chan. I’ll bring her back.’ Mann eyeballed the bodyguard and smiled at Victoria. ‘Just a quick word.’

Victoria waved the bodyguards back with a slight glance and bowed to her guests. ‘Please excuse me, gentlemen. Order more drinks for our guests,’ she hissed through a smile at the PA who looked flushed and flustered. She slid elegantly out from behind the table. ‘Please try not to miss me too much…I have something that you are going to want to hear when I come back – something we have all been waiting for.’

The men nodded and smiled and made appreciative, reassured noises as they watched their host walk away with the tall stranger. The PA got to his feet and clicked his fingers at a passing waitress.

Mann walked Victoria towards the lift. Two hostesses in ornate cheongsams and a male waiter in a chic version of a coolie suit were meeting and greeting the guests as they arrived. Mann waved them away with a smile as he got into the lift and pressed the button to close the doors. He pushed for the ground floor thirty floors below and then opened the operations panel of the lift and pressed the emergency stop button. The lift slowed quickly and gave a small judder as it stopped.

‘Kidnapping is an offence, Inspector,’ she said, smiling. He could see that she was not in the least scared. She was not frightened of anything. ‘But it is heart-warming that you had to go to such lengths to be alone with me. You could have just made an appointment like everyone else.’ She stepped closer towards him. ‘I like a man who takes what he wants and doesn’t ask.’

Victoria smiled, her eyes a dark, sinister green pool of unsettling menace. She put her hands on her hips. The sleeveless dress showed her strong shoulders, the perfect line of her collarbones, her cinched-in waist. Nothing was left to chance. The look was calculated. The body was a tool for her, like everything else. It had to work for its affection. Mann thought how she would punish it into shape. She would hate to lose at tennis or anything else. She would demand results. Mann could understand part of that. He needed the gym to free his head. He needed his body to stay strong, agile, to be able to perform and to save his life. He didn’t need it to look perfect. But she did. She was staring at him, a smug expression on her flawless face. She knew he was looking her over. She knew because it was what she had planned. Mann thought how different she was when her leash was taken off. This flirtatious display took him by surprise.