Wafting up from the vents was the smell of curry. They walked up a further two sets of stairs.

‘Christ, how many more? It better be worth it.’

‘Nearly there, big man.’

He wasn’t unduly worried. He was used to Asia. He was used to strange smells and dirty alleyways and heat and grime and he was used to places not feeling quite right. The small buzz of fear that he had felt when he first found himself alone as a foreigner on a faraway street had long since left him. Once every few months he made the same trip to Asia. He had lost his wonderment, his adrenalin rush at the fear of the unknown. He didn’t care for Chinese food any more. Now he longed for curry and a cold pint of beer. Now he just sat in cocktail lounges that could have been anywhere in the world. Ruby understood it. She knew he was used to being out of his comfort zone and he would not back out now. He had come this far. He would have it all now.

They reached her apartment door.

‘This isn’t a restaurant.’ He looked around, still smiling, a little less relaxed, a little less tipsy.

‘This is where I live, big man. Come in and I will ring the restaurant and get us the best table. While we wait I will get you a drink, make you happy…’ She smiled teasingly and brushed her hand over his crotch, softly, lingeringly. ‘I like you a lot. I am going to give you a real good time.’

‘Sounds good to me.’ He pulled her to him, held her by the bottom and thrust his hips at hers. She quickly opened the door and led him inside.

He stood just inside. ‘Are you boiling gammon? I haven’t smelt that since I was young. My grandmother always boiled gammon.’

Ruby didn’t answer; she led him past the kitchen where steam rose from boiling bones, now stripped of their flesh and rattling in the scummy water. The bones belonged to a man named Matt Simpson. His glasses were still on the side of the sink. His head was feeding the lobsters. His photo was sitting in the arms of a boy doll dressed in a blue bonnet and blue booties.

Ruby took his hand and steered him into her room, she closed the door behind him.

Five men had entered her room, stepped into her secret world. Five men had entered, none had left. He was the sixth.

Chapter 10

Mann took the MTR over to Central, Hong Kong Island. He walked up towards Soho (short for ‘south of Hollywood road’, an area of chic and not so chic wine bars, open fronted, pavement style, in cobbled streets and steep alleyways. Mann stepped outside of the noise and took out his phone.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be sharp.’

He heard her sigh. ‘You have every right, son.’

‘No, I don’t. You did the right thing in keeping the truth from me for most of my life. It was great while it lasted.’

‘It would have lasted longer if she hadn’t got in touch.’

‘It wouldn’t have gone on much longer, I would have always found out in the end. His assets existed whether you wanted them to or not. Anyway…I’m glad she, Magda, did get in touch. I liked her, Mum, whatever Dad was or wasn’t he loved her and I was proud to know her in the end. It was difficult, it was uncomfortable but I found a brother I never knew I had. I hope you will agree to meet him one day.’

‘Perhaps, son.’

‘I’ll see you soon, Mum.’

The Cantina Bar was decorated with a mix of sci-fi memorabilia. It was a place he felt comfortable, cherished even, amongst the chirrups of R2D2 and the hyperdrive floor that seemed to collapse as you walked on it before it spun you off into a black hole. But, most of all, what attracted Mann to the Cantina was Miriam. She looked like an Italian sex siren from the fifties, with her cinched-in waist and ample chest and the outline of her voluptuous body beneath her tight dress. She was older, an English woman, a Japanese Yakuza widow: her husband had been a Yakuza member – the Japanese mafia. He had taken the fall for others. There was honour amongst those left behind. Now the Yakuza looked after her. They made sure the local Triads didn’t overstep their mark. The Japanese Yakuza were brothers to the Chinese Triad; big players in the Asian Triad market. When necessary, when business crossed borders then the two could be bed mates. In Miriam’s case the Triads left her alone to run her bar knowing that if they didn’t they would answer to the Yakuza. Miriam had large dark and sultry hooded eyes that oozed sexual promise. A Roman nose, broad mouth and glossy black hair tumbled down her back in waves; her lips were red to match her dress. Mann and Miriam had a thing going which went back a few years. They understood one another, or so he thought.

‘Where you been, Johnny?’ she said as she turned on her stool and watched him approach. He leant down to kiss her. She turned her face and he kissed her cheek. It was then that he realized he was in trouble. ‘You look wrecked.’

‘I’ve been to hell and back, Miriam. I could do with some intensive nursing.’

‘I left you a few messages.’ She tried not to smile.

‘I’m sorry, Miriam.’

The barman glanced over and batted his eyelashes. Mann smiled back. What was it with gays? They always fancied him. He brought him over a vodka on the rocks. Mann thanked him and took a large swig.

‘I was worried. I heard you got ill.’

‘I got malaria. I’m fine now. I just can’t sleep. I need a bedtime story and a glass of milk. Let me buy you dinner, I’ll tell you all about it.’ Mann realized he was getting drunker than he meant to. He needed to eat. But not in the Cantina – the food was a variation on tapas and Mann needed a proper meal. He kissed her hand and followed it as it went back to her lap. Beneath his palm he felt the slide of silk stocking. There was a smile creeping in, a curl of soft red lips. But it wasn’t yet the smile that she gave him which meant he wouldn’t be sleeping that night, not yet.

‘I was really worried, Johnny.’

He smiled, looked into her eyes. ‘I’ve missed you, Miriam. I’ve missed the way you laugh. I’ve missed the way you pretend to be angry at me. I’ve so missed feeling you fall asleep in my arms. But, work has had me running around like a headless chicken and, to be honest, I haven’t been good company.’

She stood and stepped closer to him. Mann could smell her perfume. He touched the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her dress as it rounded her hip. She was relenting. She was giving in. She brushed her breast against his arm and touched the side of his face with her soft hand. She smiled, her eyes full of mischief. ‘Let me pick up my nurse’s kit on the way.’

Back at his flat, Mann stood back to allow Miriam through. She was a few paces in the room when she turned.

‘It’s been a while since we did this.’

He pulled her close. ‘Too long.’ He kissed her neck. She drew back.

‘But you haven’t been lonely.’

He pulled back at looked in her eyes. They were searching his.

‘You’re the only woman who comes here, Miriam, honest.’

‘Really? Since when have you been wearing perfume?’

Mann turned his head and smelt the air. Miriam was right; there was a smell of perfume and it was one that he knew very well. The smell of Miss Dior was in the air; the scent of Helen.

Chapter 11

‘Gin and tonic, right, Steve?’

Ruby was working fast to put him at ease. She could see by his face as he looked around her room that he was wondering if he’d made the right decision. He was wondering why they hadn’t just gone to his hotel room or straight to the restaurant. You hungry, big man? You want some fun? Spend the evening with me? Now he wasn’t so sure.

‘Yes, Ruby. I thought we were going for something to eat? Is this where you live?’ He looked around the tiny apartment. ‘Jesus, what a shithole. Sorry – no offence. Is this it? Everything in this room: kitchen, bathroom? What’s in there?’ He pointed to the curtain.