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Authors: Stephen Leather
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police station, mortuary and hotel had taken more out of me than I realized, and though my eyes opened at nine o’clock I spent over two hours drifting in and out of sleep until Howard banged on the door. I wrapped myself in a large white towel and let him in.
He was wearing a similar safari suit to yesterday, but in cream. He was carrying a plastic bag and he emptied the contents onto the dressing table: three cotton shirts, a couple of pairs of socks and underwear. There was also an aerosol of deodorant. With a jolt I thought of the bag full of Sally’s belongings, lying on the window seat, the silent proof that she was dead and this wasn’t a dream.
‘I thought this might come in handy,’ he said, holding out the deodorant.
‘Yeah, I was sweating a bit,’ I said. ‘I’ll just take a shower.’
The water jetted out hard and fast, almost scouring the skin from my back as I washed and then I turned it on full cold and gasped as the icy water hit me.
‘How far away is Sally’s flat?’ I asked Howard as I towelled myself dry.
‘Fifteen minutes in a cab. Mid-levels, a block in Robinson Road.’
‘Good one?’
‘It’s not the Peak, but it’s a place for expats rather than locals.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘A place called Shek-O, there’re a lot of journalists living there, mostly Aussies. It’s on the south side of the island.’
‘Flat?’
‘No, two-bedroomed house by the beach. It’s quiet, so quiet that it’s easy to forget you’re living in Hong Kong.’
I ripped the Cellophane off one of the new shirts and tried it on. ‘Perfect fit,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’
As soon as I had finished dressing, Howard asked me if I wanted to eat. I walked over to the polythene bag and took out the keys.
‘Never touch solids this early in the morning,’ I told him. The air was suddenly split with the crump of an explosion, a dull boom that I felt as much as heard.
‘What the hell was that?’
Howard looked at his watch. ‘The noon gun,’ he said. ‘Jardines fire it at this time every day.’ He took me over to the window and pointed down to a shining naval gun at the water’s edge. ‘The story goes that they fired it once to welcome a guest and the navy got pissed off so they were told they had to fire it every day as a punishment. Now it’s a tourist attraction, a gimmick. And don’t worry, they’re firing blanks.’
‘Aren’t we all, Howard. Aren’t we all.’
The heat caught me by surprise again as we walked out of the foyer. Shit, I’d forgotten to use Howard’s deodorant. Already the sweat was collecting in my armpits.
A taxi pulled up in front of the hotel and we both climbed into the back. Howard spoke to the driver in Cantonese and the old man turned the air-conditioning down. For an expat who professed to be totally ignorant of the local language Howard seemed to be able to get his message across without too much trouble. He was a cunning old sod. A couple of times in the lift or when we waited in the police station I’d caught him eavesdropping on the Chinese as they chatted away in sing-song voices, and while I could quite believe he wasn’t fluent I was certain he could understand a lot more than he let on.
‘It’s cold enough in here to freeze a polar bear’s balls,’ he said and rubbed his hands together. I was sweltering.
‘You’ve been out here too long,’ I said.
‘Aye maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re right,’ he replied. Crap. He was out here for good.
The taxi made its way up a hill, twisting in and out of the bends like a drunken rally driver. Out of the right hand window the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank building danced in and out of view.
‘Helicopter pad,’ said Howard, and pointed to the top of the ultra-modern edifice. ‘They’re not allowed to use it, but it’s there, just in case.’
‘I don’t follow you,’ I said.
‘1997, laddie, 1997. When the Chinese hordes come sweeping over the border the bank’s executives will be
He was wearing a similar safari suit to yesterday, but in cream. He was carrying a plastic bag and he emptied the contents onto the dressing table: three cotton shirts, a couple of pairs of socks and underwear. There was also an aerosol of deodorant. With a jolt I thought of the bag full of Sally’s belongings, lying on the window seat, the silent proof that she was dead and this wasn’t a dream.
‘I thought this might come in handy,’ he said, holding out the deodorant.
‘Yeah, I was sweating a bit,’ I said. ‘I’ll just take a shower.’
The water jetted out hard and fast, almost scouring the skin from my back as I washed and then I turned it on full cold and gasped as the icy water hit me.
‘How far away is Sally’s flat?’ I asked Howard as I towelled myself dry.
‘Fifteen minutes in a cab. Mid-levels, a block in Robinson Road.’
‘Good one?’
‘It’s not the Peak, but it’s a place for expats rather than locals.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘A place called Shek-O, there’re a lot of journalists living there, mostly Aussies. It’s on the south side of the island.’
‘Flat?’
‘No, two-bedroomed house by the beach. It’s quiet, so quiet that it’s easy to forget you’re living in Hong Kong.’
I ripped the Cellophane off one of the new shirts and tried it on. ‘Perfect fit,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’
As soon as I had finished dressing, Howard asked me if I wanted to eat. I walked over to the polythene bag and took out the keys.
‘Never touch solids this early in the morning,’ I told him. The air was suddenly split with the crump of an explosion, a dull boom that I felt as much as heard.
‘What the hell was that?’
Howard looked at his watch. ‘The noon gun,’ he said. ‘Jardines fire it at this time every day.’ He took me over to the window and pointed down to a shining naval gun at the water’s edge. ‘The story goes that they fired it once to welcome a guest and the navy got pissed off so they were told they had to fire it every day as a punishment. Now it’s a tourist attraction, a gimmick. And don’t worry, they’re firing blanks.’
‘Aren’t we all, Howard. Aren’t we all.’
The heat caught me by surprise again as we walked out of the foyer. Shit, I’d forgotten to use Howard’s deodorant. Already the sweat was collecting in my armpits.
A taxi pulled up in front of the hotel and we both climbed into the back. Howard spoke to the driver in Cantonese and the old man turned the air-conditioning down. For an expat who professed to be totally ignorant of the local language Howard seemed to be able to get his message across without too much trouble. He was a cunning old sod. A couple of times in the lift or when we waited in the police station I’d caught him eavesdropping on the Chinese as they chatted away in sing-song voices, and while I could quite believe he wasn’t fluent I was certain he could understand a lot more than he let on.
‘It’s cold enough in here to freeze a polar bear’s balls,’ he said and rubbed his hands together. I was sweltering.
‘You’ve been out here too long,’ I said.
‘Aye maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re right,’ he replied. Crap. He was out here for good.
The taxi made its way up a hill, twisting in and out of the bends like a drunken rally driver. Out of the right hand window the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank building danced in and out of view.
‘Helicopter pad,’ said Howard, and pointed to the top of the ultra-modern edifice. ‘They’re not allowed to use it, but it’s there, just in case.’
‘I don’t follow you,’ I said.
‘1997, laddie, 1997. When the Chinese hordes come sweeping over the border the bank’s executives will be
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