‘It’s a monkey, it needs drying out, Ng. Can it stay with you for a bit? Just for a few hours till it sobers up. You’ll like it, it’s cute. Please, Ng, it will be like a pet. I promise to get it tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Okay. I don’t know why but yes…bring it round.’

Shrimp pushed the monkey back in the seat. ‘Now behave and don’t be sick.’

Shrimp left the monkey at Ng’s. He would take it to the New Territories and release it in a day or so, when it got over its hangover.

Mia was waiting for Shrimp when he arrived back at Headquarters. ‘You’re undercover from tomorrow. It’s all ready to go. Chief Inspector Sheng wants to see you in his office to go through the brief. Any final business you have, tie it up today. Mann’s not going to be around. He’s spending the day with Victoria Chan. Did you see Mann this morning?’

‘Yes, I saw him.’

‘How did he seem?’

Shrimp hesitated. ‘He seemed okay.’

Mia waited until his eyes had stopped darting around the room and come back to hers.

‘I’ll repeat it for you. How did he seem?’

‘He seemed tired, Boss. He seemed like he’d had enough. He seemed like he didn’t know who he was any more. He seemed so sad.’

‘Okay. I get the picture.’ Mia sat at her desk, and buried her face in her hands for a few seconds before looking up. Shrimp was standing waiting. ‘He’s not the easiest person in the world to give help to but we can do it anyway. He needs us now more than ever even if he doesn’t realize it. We can help him in lots of ways. Take the pressure off him. We catch this killer as fast as we can and that leaves him to sort out the rest of the mess.’

‘Should he be spending time with Victoria Chan, Boss? There’s so much talk around this building. It’s a lot for him to deal with at the moment.’

Mia didn’t answer straight away. She held her head in her hands whilst she thought and then she looked up.

‘Yes, Shrimp. Don’t underestimate him. It’s when his back is against the wall he works the best. I suggest you make this the last day of being seen around the Mansions. Do what you have to today.’

When Shrimp arrived at the Mansions, Nina was waiting for him on the landing. She was in the shadows of the stairwell. She was back in her sari today. She shimmered with sequins around her face.

‘You look very handsome.’ She smiled coyly, her eyes shone in the darkness. She came towards him. They sat together in the usual place on the stairwell, from far above them was the echo of a door, from below, the sound of music. ‘Did you see Mahmud for me? Is he all right?’

‘I won’t lie, Nina. He’s not doing too well. He has a broken arm. He said he can’t write to you, he’s sorry. He will phone when they let him.’

Nina’s eyes fixed in a panic onto Shrimp’s.

‘He is still not telling us what happened. He will be put on trial and convicted if he doesn’t tell us soon. All the evidence points to him. I’m sorry, Nina. I will keep trying to help him but he’s not helping himself.’

Nina bowed her head and started to cry. She buried her face in her hands and turned away from Shrimp so that he wouldn’t see. He couldn’t help reaching out for her. He put his arm around her shoulder and she shifted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He felt the soft fabric of her sari fold in his hands. He felt the nearness of her body beneath. He kissed her forehead. He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t even known he was going to do it. He drew back instantly.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.’

‘Don’t be sorry, Shrimp. I have felt it since the first time I saw you. You and I have met before in some other life. We are soul mates. We are meant to be together.’

Shrimp was startled for a moment and then he looked into her eyes, still wet from tears, and saw that she was right. In some wonderful weird way she was right. He kissed her softly on the lips for so long that he lost track of time. By the time he left her he knew he couldn’t live without her.

Chapter 67

David called a meeting with the other Africans. More than thirty of them crowded into the bar next to his shop. The place was in sombre mood. David sat at the back of the room and addressed the men.

‘We have to act for ourselves. The Mansions has its own rules, its own government. Each race has its own country in here. Africa is a big country. We should have a say in here. We should have respect. We are allowing these stairwells to run with African blood. We are allowing a bunch of kids to hunt us down. We can’t allow it any more. We know who some of them are in here. We take out a few of the ringleaders and the rest will back off.’

‘What if they don’t?’

‘We have nothing to lose. They will pick us off one by one.’

David stood. ‘I know where to start.’

Three of the men followed him down to wait at the ground-floor entrance. They sat on the steps as they always did, but not just to pass the time, they were looking for one boy, Hafiz.

Hafiz looked across at David as he passed them and moved through the ground-floor money changers and guesthouse touts. He had a smile on his face and a swagger in his walk. He had money in his pocket, a gold necklace and an expensive watch. Since Victoria Chan had befriended him he earned more money from servicing the needs of her wealthy friends than he ever did with Michelle. He looked disdainfully at the Africans. He would have liked to have bent over for David. He wouldn’t charge. But he knew that it wasn’t allowed. The Africans were out of bounds. Hafiz had a new respect amongst the Outcasts. He had stamped on the African’s head. He had shown that even though he might be gay he could be as nasty as the rest of them, nastier even. Hafiz only had to whistle and the whole of the Mansions came alive. He was someone now, in his own right. He didn’t need to work in the restaurant if he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t need to go to school. He had all he needed. Rich men showered him with gifts; he was going to be somebody.

He stood for a second and stared back at David. Hafiz felt triumphant. David could look all he wanted. Hafiz just had to get his whistle out and that would be another African dead down the maintenance shaft. But today was different. Today David stared back at Hafiz with a look that frightened Hafiz. It seemed to look right inside him. It seemed to know all his secrets. Had David seen Hafiz stamp on the African’s head when he was lying on the ground? Had the African lived long enough to tell him? Hafiz doubted it, anyway what did he care? He was the prince of the Mansions.

Hafiz walked on and glanced back over his shoulder. David had stood and was walking his way. He walked quickly through the crammed corridor, on his way to the stairs. He turned to see not only David but three others following. Hafiz broke into a fast walk and then a run. He had a choice now, as the Mansions thinned out he could run to the back, along the back wall and try and escape that way, but there were fewer stalls that way and more Africans. Instead he chose the stairs and took them two at a time. His hand was shaking as he tried to squeeze it into his jeans pocket and bring out the whistle. There wasn’t time to stop; he could hear them coming. Their deep voices boomed up the stairwell. Hafiz was making small whimpering noises, talking to himself, trying to reassure himself. He was running scared. He dodged along and onto the inside landing of the seventh floor and he ducked down into a doorway and took out his whistle. He was shaking so much, so breathless he fumbled, got it to his mouth, tried to blow and screamed as David’s big foot stamped on his chest, trapping his arm where it was. David took the whistle from him and threw it over the balcony. He dragged Hafiz up by his arm.