“I told a little lie actually. You see that old building where you found me was once my house. I was trying to get back in through the goods hatch to see if they’d left anything useful. Come on let’s see if we can open it from the inside.”
They soon found the hatch behind a pile of discarded timber and rubbish. Ling took the key and put it into the lock. To their great relief, it opened easily. Surprised, he tentatively pushed and the hatch opened without a sound.
Peering cautiously into the darkness, Ling could not see or hear any sign of the guards. He looked back at the others, gave the thumbs up and eased himself through. Alex squeezed out next, followed by the old man, who carefully relocked the little door before piling some broken boxwood and some discarded sacking in front of it.
“Follow me,” the old man whispered. They obeyed without question as he trotted across the rubble to vanish in the labyrinth of decrepit buildings. The old Chinese eventually stopped.
“On you go gentlemen,” he panted, catching his breath. “At the end of this lane, turn right and you’re back on the main waterfront. I’m going home — I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
Alex thanked the old man.
“We’re going to have to go back in there because our job is to destroy those weapons. Will you help us?”
The old man smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Alex’s arm. “You can count on me.” He looked across the road. “You see that café?” he pointed. “You can leave a message there when you need me. Just say you want to talk with old Ming-Ho,” he smiled. “Get away now. Your other friend needs you.”
They thanked him again and left, heading at a jog to David’s apartment. Alex shuddered at the thought of David being in the clutches of a Syndicate “Enforcer”. He knew their ruthless regime showed no quarter to those who challenged or betrayed their objectives.
4
Three Syndicate executives sat facing each other at the boardroom table; the older man spoke.
“Thank you gentlemen for attending at such short notice. But we have a problem.” He looked strained; his eyes pierced into the listeners. “It has been brought to my notice that an employee at the Hong Kong Harbours Land Department has been trying to investigate our warehouse site on the old docks.” He looked across to the picture window of the boardroom momentarily and then turned dramatically to face the others. “With the shipment due to leave tomorrow, we cannot afford any problems. So I want him interrogated. I want to know what he discovered, if anything, and why he was looking.” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Who can handle this immediately?”
One of the others raised a hand.
“I can do that.” he smiled enthusiastically, trying to ingratiate himself. “I’ve been sorting out that other little matter with the double dealing heroin peddler. So I still have the two men on loan from our Philippine warlord ally. OK?” He looked around for approval or otherwise.
There were no objections.
“Good. Then see that it’s resolved within the next twelve hours,” the leader ordered. “The other matter is the report of a treasure ship out in Manila Bay. Now we’ve all heard these stories over the years but recently there’s been a revival of divers searching the hundreds of wrecks out there. My recommendation is to watch and wait as usual but keep a sharp lookout. If something concrete develops, then we report to our controller and not before. False alarms are not welcomed either. Understood everybody?”
One of the men spoke out hesitantly.
“One of my boat people reported two men looking for wreck fishing, just a couple of days ago. I’ll double check it.”
“Good,” replied the group leader. “Anything like that must be reported to me at once. Is that clear?”
Alex and Ling stopped about one hundred metres from the apartment block and scanned the immediate area. There was nothing obvious to be seen from the outside. Alex dialled David’s number on his mobile as they hurried towards the building; there was still no reply. They paused again for a few moments, satisfying themselves that it was safe before climbing the metal stairs to David’s floor. The door to the apartment was cracked open. Alex crept forward and cautiously pushed the door; he could see David lying on the kitchen floor tied to an upturned chair, his mouth taped, hands and feet bound with a piece of electric flex. A piece of the same wire was wound tightly around his neck. Unable to breath, he was seconds from death. His eyes, bulging out of their sockets, stared in horror.
Alex dived into the room, ripped the tape from David’s mouth then grabbed at the flex around his throat, feverishly unwinding the slippery sweat and blood-coated wire; eventually and with a triumphant cry “Got yer, you bastard” he pulled the wire free. David retched as the air rushed back into his starving lungs. Then, after releasing the other bindings they lifted the semiconscious David and placed him carefully on his bed.
“Ling, you better ring for the ambulance. He’s going to need more than we can do for him — and urgently.”
Without further hesitation, Ling called the emergency service number, and explained the urgent situation and the need to access the building via the external stairway.
“Be with you in about ten minutes,” the dispatcher confirmed calmly.
Ling replaced the telephone.
“Ten minutes he said. I hope its quick enough,” Ling mumbled.
Alex was gently bathing David’s swollen neck and face with cool water. He was still very weak but then as he regained consciousness he tried to speak and struggled to get off the bed.
“You’re safe now. Don’t try to speak. Relax — we’ll sort everything out. You’re safe now,” Ling repeated softly, gently trying to calm him, David remained agitated and kept trying to make audible sounds but the damaged larynx made it impossible for any of the grotesque gurgles to be understood. Finally he fell back exhausted.
Alex placed a comforting hand on Ling’s arm.
“I think he’s passed out Ling. The ambulance will be here any minute now. Why don’t you rest, I’ll watch him for a while,” Alex breathed, smiling encouragement.
“I got him into this. He’s only young and only just married,” Ling muttered, close to tears.
“My God — where is his wife then?” Alex demanded, suddenly ice cold. They looked at each other. “The spare bedroom?” Alex suggested.
Ling stood up and ran to the end of the short hallway. He stopped dead in the doorway, grabbed at his throat and gagged. Alex was immediately behind him. The room looked like a slaughterhouse; blood was daubed on the walls and sparse furniture. On the bed lay a naked female body; it looked like a broken doll drenched in blood. She’d been decapitated, her head propped up against the headboard; a piece of paper had been literally nailed to her forehead with something like a crab pick.
Ling vomited involuntarily before muttering, “His wife. Oh God it’s his wife.”
Alex stood in silence. The blood drained from his head. He thought for one moment that even his iron constitution would succumb to the gruesome scene. He flexed his hands took a deep breath and stepped into the room. The floor was sticky with blood. He leaned over the bed, ignoring the pathetic head, and read the note. The stark message was written in the woman’s own blood.
We always start with the wives and children.
Stay out of our business.
Alex returned to the hall and grabbed the near hysterical Ling by the arm.
“Come on Ling. We have to get out of here immediately. The paramedics will call the police as soon as they discover this and we must definitely NOT be found here!”