‘Go. We go.’ Saw started walking away.

Anna came over to help and between them they got Lucas to his feet. Saw looked back at them and shouted:

‘Leave him.’

Jake stood firm. ‘No…we can manage. I am not leaving him.’

Saw turned and raced back. Lucas dropped to his knees as Saw began punching Jake in the head with several fast, hard blows, until Jake felt his knees go weak and his head begin to spin.

Anna jumped onto Saw’s back and bit his shoulder. He gave a growl of pain and threw her with such force that she landed six feet away and lay stunned on the forest floor. Saw stood over Jake panting with rage. It was as if he had finally had enough. His men watched him with nervous curiosity. Handsome walked over to Anna and dragged her to her feet. He threw her over his shoulder and marched off down the track.

‘Get up,’ Saw shouted at Jake.

Jake rolled onto his knees and vomited. He held on to a tree and pulled himself up and leant against it, trying to breathe.

Saw grabbed hold of his wrists and started dragging him away from Lucas.

‘Lucas, Lucas, get up,’ Jake shouted at Lucas. But Lucas didn’t move. ‘No…please, please, I beg you, don’t leave him,’ Jake pleaded.

Saw strode over and kicked Lucas to see if he was still alive. Lucas didn’t move.

‘Leave him.’

Saw dragged Jake away.

95

Alfie stopped opposite the entrance to a shop stacked with ceremonial dragon heads used for Chinese New Year, massive heads with bulbous fish eyes rimmed with white and orange fur.

He looked again at the details Ng had faxed over to him. The Golden Orchid Company was registered to an address in Chinatown.

Yes, that was the place. He crossed the road. The door clanged with a series of tinny bells as he opened it. The shop was dark and crammed with Chinese wares. They were obviously not expecting customers. A young, slim Chinese woman, who was unloading a box of jewellery as he entered, looked startled.

‘Good morning,’ Alfie said with a big smile. She didn’t answer; instead she rose swiftly and exited twice as swiftly to a room at the back.

Strands of pearls were lying on the counter alongside jade jewellery items and mini Buddhas. Alfie examined the merchandise.

‘We are closed.’

Alfie looked up to see a man, similar in ethnicity, but not the one the Bitch had met. He spoke good Dutch.

‘Really?’ Alfie looked around.

The man didn’t answer. Alfie held a bunch of pearls in his hand and weighed them in the air.

‘You have some nice things here. Where do they come from?’

‘Hong Kong.’

Alfie looked at the script on the tag attached to the pearls. It wasn’t Chinese writing. It was very distinct, ornate, rounded, almost Arabic. The man saw him looking.

‘Some of it comes from other countries in Asia. What is your business?’

‘Mine? Customs and Excise. I want to know whether you have paid the taxes on these things.’ Alfie fished in his jacket and got out his warrant card and flashed it briefly. Brief enough to show it was legitimate but not to show which division.

‘We have import papers for it all.’

‘I will need to see them.’

‘They will take some time to find.’

‘I can wait.’ Alfie knelt down to look at the front of the box that the girl had been emptying. On it was the crest of the Golden Orchid Company.

‘Burma, huh? You still are managing to do business with them despite the troubles?’

The man shrugged. ‘The world will always have troubles, my friend. Business must go on.’

Alfie could see that his eyes were black, lightless. He was a man unmoved by human tragedy. He seemed to be weighing Alfie up. Then, clearly irritated, he called for someone from the back room. The slim girl reappeared, looking very nervous. The man spoke sharply to her and she stared at Alfie with a pleading look. The man spoke even more sharply and she turned on her heels and scampered off.

She returned with a few pieces of paper which she gave to the man and which he passed on to Alfie.

‘Can I keep these?’

‘Why should you need to? They are legitimate import documents. You can see by the stamp.’ The man gestured towards the paper. Across the grubby pages was a red stamp and a scribbled signature.

‘I want to check it, that’s all. I will give you a receipt for them.’

‘Take them if you want but there is a lot of work for you here. Surely there is something I can give you to ease your work. I can make a donation to your police fund maybe?’

The man’s eyes stayed focused on Alfie as Alfie stared back for a few seconds and then grinned.

‘Like I said, I will take these.’

Alfie stepped out of the shop. Folding the papers in his hand, he slipped them into the inside of his jacket and walked back towards the station. He wanted to fax them straight over to Ng.

96

Shrimp stood at the entrance to the boxing ring. An orchestra of five were playing traditional Thai music in the corner. There was a good crowd, maybe around one hundred and fifty, mainly locals—tourists were thin on the ground. A queue of hopefuls was already limbering up at the side of the ring.

Shrimp found himself an empty seat.

The live orchestra banged cymbals and jangled off-key percussions. After an hour Shrimp was no longer sat on his own, he was squashed beside a family who had brought their supper with them. They seemed keen to adopt him and share their dinner with him. There was a change of tempo in the music; something was about to happen. Then Shrimp saw El Supremo, ready for fighting. There was a big roll of the drums and clashing of cymbals as he stepped up into the ring, Coach at his side. Following them into the ring were two squaws, with thonged sandals criss-crossed up their legs and wearing very short, beaded leather dresses. One of them was carrying an open case full of money which she displayed to the crowd as she walked around the sides of the ring. There were gasps of excitement as the crowd surged forward to get a look at the prize money, more than five years’ wages for most. Then the list of contenders was read out. A few hopefuls came out and one by one they tried their luck against El Supremo. He annihilated each one in turn. The crowd were becoming glum and disappointed by the time Coach got into the ring and held up his hands for calm.

‘El Supremo is undefeated,’ he shouted. ‘Anyone else want a go?’

There were murmurings but lots of head shakings until Summer stepped into the ring.

‘I have someone to fight.’

There was a chorus of catcalls. The orchestra went mad with the cymbals.

‘Who?’

Coach eyed Summer’s girls, who were standing behind her.

‘Me,’ Shrimp called out as he shuffled to the end of the row, amidst much support from his newfound family members. El Supremo watched him approach and began to laugh. Shrimp reached the side of the ring and slipped out of his trousers to reveal pink boxing shorts. The crowd went wild. El Supremo threw his arms up and refused to fight Shrimp, who had come without a teacher to observe the proper ceremony.

‘I’m here, honey.’ Summer stepped up and into the ring in pink glitter shorts and a sequined boobtube. She held the headband, a pink scarf with VOGUE written on the front, in both hands and bowed.

Shrimp returned her bow. ‘Thank you, teacher,’ he said and there was a roar of approval from the crowds.

‘Do you know what I do in this bit?’ whispered Shrimp. The music struck up a cheery off-beat jangle.

‘You bow to me. Go to each corner, bow, pay your respects. Then go in the centre of the ring, kneel towards your home, Hong Kong, whichever way that is, and look like you’re praying. Get up, strike a pose, baby, and then bow three times. Then that’s it. Lots of luck, honey.’ She leant over, kissed his cheek.