Read Online White Devil - A Beatrix Rose Thriller: Hong Kong Stories Volume 1 (Beatrix Rose's Hong Kong Stories) by Mark Dawson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark Dawson
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then.”
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CHAU SPENT four hours wandering the streets of Kowloon. He started in Salisbury Road, turned onto Chatham Road South and then walked south on Nathan Road. He tarried in the food market, the crazed open-air bazaar where you could, it often seemed, buy absolutely anything you wanted. The place was full of life, with locals and tourists alike jostling for space. The banter of the sellers was loud and intense, and the stalls were a riot of colours. He stopped and bought a lychee from a stall that also sold oranges, pineapples and coconuts, and gazed at the dozens of chickens that had been beheaded and plucked and now hung from metal racks on S-shaped spikes next to beef and pork. He allowed the eddy of the crowd to jostle him along the street until he was deposited before a particularly popular attraction. A superannuated old man, as thin as a stick and with skin that looked as thin and crinkled as parchment, was sitting on a rattan mat next to a large wicker basket that was full of snakes. He reached into the basket, plucked out a snake and, with a small and wickedly sharp knife, made an incision at the back of the reptile’s head. He tore the skin of the snake away with a single movement, discarded it on a pile behind him, and dropped the snake—now a gruesome pink—into another basket, where it writhed with similarly denuded brethren, ready to be cooked and eaten.
Chau flinched. It was difficult not to see the display as a metaphor for his own life. He was one of the snakes, waiting in the basket to be plucked out and skinned.
He wandered to the restaurant that Ying had recommended, but he had no appetite. He wondered, too, how safe it would be. If Ying had already decided to decline his offer, going into a business that he owned did not strike him as a particularly sensible idea. He would be taken out to the kitchen. Perhaps Donnie Qi would be waiting for him there. There would be no ‘apology’ this time. No amputation of his fingers. They would take their cleavers and hack him to pieces. No, he did not feel hungry. Not at all. He passed the restaurant and kept walking.
Chau looked for Beatrix, but he couldn’t see her. She had explained that they could not meet until they were back at Chungking Mansions, but she had promised that she would be close at hand in case the meeting with Ying went badly. He was beginning to doubt that. Paranoia? Possibly. But why would a woman whom he had barely met want to involve herself in a scheme that would involve the murder of a triad leader? The more he walked, and the more he thought about it, the more he thought it likely that she had abandoned him. What was he thinking? He was putting all of his hope in this one woman, and the only experience he had with her had been to watch her attack the three triads who had set about him. It wasn’t just naïve, it was foolhardy. She was a lunatic, and he had played himself into a position where he had no one to depend upon but her.
He ambled back to the dock and joined the queue of people, waiting for the gates to open. He looked around, but he couldn’t see Ying. He couldn’t see Beatrix, either. As he stood there, shuffling impatiently from foot to foot, he realised how stupid and credulous he had been. He should have fled into the mainland. Donnie Qi might have found him, but his chances would have been better than they were in this insane scheme.
“Move!”
He turned around, fear all over his face. He didn’t recognise the man behind him.
“The gates are open,” the man said irritably. “Move!”
Chau turned back and saw that the man was right. He apologised and shuffled ahead, across the gangplank and onto the ferry that would take him back to the island. Back to Donnie Qi and Fang Chun Ying and the short, brutal fate that destiny had planned for him.
#
CHAU TOOK the same spot at the rail as before. The lights of the city played out across the rolling waters in long painterly strokes.
He looked around for
#
CHAU SPENT four hours wandering the streets of Kowloon. He started in Salisbury Road, turned onto Chatham Road South and then walked south on Nathan Road. He tarried in the food market, the crazed open-air bazaar where you could, it often seemed, buy absolutely anything you wanted. The place was full of life, with locals and tourists alike jostling for space. The banter of the sellers was loud and intense, and the stalls were a riot of colours. He stopped and bought a lychee from a stall that also sold oranges, pineapples and coconuts, and gazed at the dozens of chickens that had been beheaded and plucked and now hung from metal racks on S-shaped spikes next to beef and pork. He allowed the eddy of the crowd to jostle him along the street until he was deposited before a particularly popular attraction. A superannuated old man, as thin as a stick and with skin that looked as thin and crinkled as parchment, was sitting on a rattan mat next to a large wicker basket that was full of snakes. He reached into the basket, plucked out a snake and, with a small and wickedly sharp knife, made an incision at the back of the reptile’s head. He tore the skin of the snake away with a single movement, discarded it on a pile behind him, and dropped the snake—now a gruesome pink—into another basket, where it writhed with similarly denuded brethren, ready to be cooked and eaten.
Chau flinched. It was difficult not to see the display as a metaphor for his own life. He was one of the snakes, waiting in the basket to be plucked out and skinned.
He wandered to the restaurant that Ying had recommended, but he had no appetite. He wondered, too, how safe it would be. If Ying had already decided to decline his offer, going into a business that he owned did not strike him as a particularly sensible idea. He would be taken out to the kitchen. Perhaps Donnie Qi would be waiting for him there. There would be no ‘apology’ this time. No amputation of his fingers. They would take their cleavers and hack him to pieces. No, he did not feel hungry. Not at all. He passed the restaurant and kept walking.
Chau looked for Beatrix, but he couldn’t see her. She had explained that they could not meet until they were back at Chungking Mansions, but she had promised that she would be close at hand in case the meeting with Ying went badly. He was beginning to doubt that. Paranoia? Possibly. But why would a woman whom he had barely met want to involve herself in a scheme that would involve the murder of a triad leader? The more he walked, and the more he thought about it, the more he thought it likely that she had abandoned him. What was he thinking? He was putting all of his hope in this one woman, and the only experience he had with her had been to watch her attack the three triads who had set about him. It wasn’t just naïve, it was foolhardy. She was a lunatic, and he had played himself into a position where he had no one to depend upon but her.
He ambled back to the dock and joined the queue of people, waiting for the gates to open. He looked around, but he couldn’t see Ying. He couldn’t see Beatrix, either. As he stood there, shuffling impatiently from foot to foot, he realised how stupid and credulous he had been. He should have fled into the mainland. Donnie Qi might have found him, but his chances would have been better than they were in this insane scheme.
“Move!”
He turned around, fear all over his face. He didn’t recognise the man behind him.
“The gates are open,” the man said irritably. “Move!”
Chau turned back and saw that the man was right. He apologised and shuffled ahead, across the gangplank and onto the ferry that would take him back to the island. Back to Donnie Qi and Fang Chun Ying and the short, brutal fate that destiny had planned for him.
#
CHAU TOOK the same spot at the rail as before. The lights of the city played out across the rolling waters in long painterly strokes.
He looked around for
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