A blast of flame from the balcony sent Mann reeling backwards The entire platform was fiercely alight now. For a second it eased as Ramon blasted it with the hose. Mann dragged Becky into his arms. The balcony was all but gone in flames. Ramon’s hose ceased to have any effect on it. The heat was biting the back of Mann’s throat. He heard the roar of the fire beneath him and the sound of glass shattering in the house. His skin began to scorch. He was clutching at the small amount of oxygen left in the room and he knew he was passing out. He looked behind him. The door to the bedroom was all but burnt through. He looked at Becky, he was glad she was unconscious. Hopefully she wouldn’t feel the pain.

‘I’m sorry, Becky, truly sorry, but…’ he kissed her face ‘…but we are not going to fucking die here. Agreed? That’s it then, no argument.’

With his last atom of strength he stood to his feet, wrapped the wet towel over his and Becky’s heads and cradled her in his arms.

He looked back towards the door, any second now it would be too late. There was a huge roar all around them. The whole refuge felt like it was about to collapse. The glass was cracking and about to shatter in the balcony doors. Then it would be too late and they would be engulfed in flames. It was now or never. Better to die on the way out than be trapped here.

He took one last look at Becky, took a step back, and ran at the balcony doors, blasted them apart with a kick and jumped into the fire. It was like jumping into a lava flow. Mann threw himself and Becky forward straight into the mouth of the volcano.

At that second when his clothes caught fire and he felt them stick to his body, at that exact second when he felt the excruciating pain of death and he opened his mouth to cry out in agony, it was filled with a cold, hard torrent of water from above.

76

Morning had come to Fields Avenue. The cockerels that would die later that day in the cock-fighting arena, pitched against one another in a slaughter of blood and feathers, now stood proud and erect as they crowed their last ever morning salute from the confines of their crates. A weak sun turned the dawn sky milky blue. Fields Avenue was stupefied. Its occupants lay in a tangling of bodies, asleep in their beds, collapsed in spent lust.

The street children were awake early. Their pavement beds grew too hard to bear beyond a few hours. They were hungry and on the scavenge. The bins at the back of the restaurants would be a welcome source of breakfast. They had worked their way up Fields Avenue and now they gathered one by one in the place where a man was dying. The old woman was there too. She was watching silently from the doorway. Outside the Bordello the Colonel’s journey was almost complete. Dismembered whilst still breathing, the Shabu had made the night a long one.

‘Finish it. Please’

Stevie Ho came around to the back of the Colonel’s chair and held the point of his knife directly over the Colonel’s heart. He rested the point between the exposed ribs and placed the palms of his hands over the hilt, one on top of the other.

‘You were a worthy opponent. You died a good death. I will give you your wish.’

77

‘You all right, Johnny?’

Mann awoke lying on his back, staring up at the blue sky with Father Finn’s face blocking his view.

‘I’m okay, Father. How are the others?’

‘They’re recovering, Eduardo is awake and he’s fine. Becky is just coming around, the doctor is with her. Just rest now, Mann, you’ve lost a lot of blood.’

‘What time is it?’ Mann felt a pain in his lungs as he talked.

‘It’s three o’clock. You have been asleep for a few hours. You are very weak, Johnny. Mercy has cleaned you up, the bullet is out, but you need stitching. The doctor is on his way.’

Mann was on a makeshift bed under the trees in the garden. A gentle breeze fanned his skin. The sun flitted through the leaves and skipped across his face. The sky was blue, but ash and soot still floated past. He turned his head to see that the refuge was destroyed. Ramon was busy keeping the house dampened with the hose. Some of the staff were helping him, some others were making lunch in a field kitchen. The children were running around shouting excitedly. They were splashing in the pools of water that had landed on hard ground and had not yet evaporated or been absorbed. Their arms outstretched as wings, they were re-enacting the moment Remy’s plane dumped the lake on their heads.

‘Thank God you all got out, and thank God for Remy. He managed to empty eight hundred gallons of water right on target.’

‘He did a good job.’

‘He’s a good man, all right. He phoned me to say he’s landed at Clark now, he’s making his way over. I said we’d crack open that bottle of malt you brought over with you. We will need to camp out at the workers’ houses until we can rebuild the centre. I’ve already started working on the designs. I have decided it was a blessing in disguise. Now we can build a bigger centre—specially designed for our needs. I have organised for you two to stay with Ramon and Mercy until we can arrange something else.’

‘It will be just for a night for me, Father. I can’t stay. I leave tomorrow. I have to get back to Hong Kong as fast as I can. It’s not over till I make sure the trafficking ring is broken. We have to finish it off now that it’s wounded, and I have to make sure CK sticks to his side of the bargain. I can’t do that from here.’

Father Finn left to help Ramon and keep the flames from reigniting in the intense heat. Mercy and the others moved the children back and away to the cool of the gardens.

Mann stood, checked that he wasn’t about to fall down, looked and saw that the others were too busy to watch him. He was looking for something that he hoped no one else would find. He had a hunch that the DDS would leave something behind. He looked around him and began searching.

He made his way across to the far side of the driveway. There was an area that Father Finn liked to call his garden shed. It was a cluster of small wooden structures, some used for storage, others just palm-thatched open-sided summer houses for tranquillity and a bit of peace. As he neared the space between two of the huts, he found what he was looking for—Alex Stamp.

Mann knelt beside him and looked him over. He had seconds rather than minutes left, thought Mann. His chest was saturated with blood. His face was grey. His breathing was so shallow that Mann couldn’t be sure he was still alive. Mann checked for a pulse. As he pressed his fingers to the carotid artery, Alex opened his eyes.

‘Come to gloat?’ He could barely speak.

‘No…death comes to all of us.’

Alex Stamp smiled ruefully.

‘Yeah, well, don’t let me keep you.’

‘I’m not here to give you the last rites, but I will hear your confession. Where is CK’s daughter? You do that and I’ll do my best to keep you alive.’

‘You’re too late. She’s already dead. Tell Becky I am sorry. Tell her…’

‘I’ll tell her nothing. She’s suffered enough. Go to hell.’

Mann listened to the sound of death—the last gurgle of laboured breathing as Alex’s lungs became waterlogged. He covered the body with a piece of sacking and then he moved into the shade of one of the summer houses. He sat down and looked at his phone. It was late afternoon. He had several missed calls. He phoned Shrimp first.

‘Boss, you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I have some awesome news. Amy Tang walked back into school minutes before the deadline was up this morning.’

‘How?’

‘No one really knows. She said she got a taxi. None of the firms can confirm that, she said she thought it was a minicab that she hailed outside a flat. She gave a vague statement to the police. Said she just walked out. But, get this? Before she turned up we got an anonymous tip-off as to where she was being held. When we got to the flat, it was the weirdest thing. A Chinese woman was dead in there. Lying out on a bed in the back room. The autopsy is being done, but it looks like she died from strangulation. There was a string necklace type of thing around her neck—it had beads and stuff. The place was like an oven in there. Initial blood examination also indicated that she was heavily sedated—we found a half-empty bottle of sleeping pills in her bag. Apart from that the place was orderly. Clean, no sign of a fight. The woman had been drinking—there was an empty gin bottle in there. Nothing else, absolutely nothing else, and no little girl. Then I got a call from the school to say that she had just walked back in. She’s been interviewed. She’s drawn pictures of the suspects. One of them was definitely Alex Stamp, the other was the dead woman. She said that she was babysat by two other Chinese men—she drew one of them, London Chinese, named Sunny. He says he is a member of the White Circle. He’s not saying anything else. She couldn’t remember what the other one looked like, or even his name. She says she had put the necklace around the woman’s neck as a leaving present. Strange child.’