107

Ten p.m. Mann sat opposite Max in the interview room. Max looked dishevelled and exhausted. Shrimp leant against the far wall.

Shrimp had brought Mann some fresh black coffee, although he needed very little more wiring – he hadn’t slept for three days. He was going to get more out of Max, one way or another. He had a hunch that if anyone would know where Chan would run, Max would. Max had spent years catering to Chan’s subversive tastes. He must know more about him than even he realised.

Mann’s eyes were on the clock on the wall to his right. He was waiting for fifteen minutes to pass. He sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair and looked at the clock. Max went to get a cigarette from his packet on the table. Mann flicked the packet away; it landed in the corner of the room. Max looked at Li, whose feet it had landed at. Li stared back, unblinking. Every few minutes Max lifted his eyes towards Mann, waiting for the interview to begin and for it to be over with; waiting to be allowed to return to the seclusion of his cell. Mann tapped his pen on the tabletop as he watched Max sweat. Fifteen minutes was up.

‘Okay, Max, that’s fifteen minutes off your brother’s life.’

‘Huh?’

‘That’s right. Every minute you waste my time in here comes off your brother’s life.’

‘Huh?’

‘Now, that may not seem like a big deal to you, Max – after all, you are going to die anyway.’

‘Huh?’

‘You and your brother are to stand trial on the mainland. You know what that means, don’t you, Max? It means they are going to shoot you. So, maybe you think – okay, at least my brother and I will be shot together? You and your brother, side by side against the firing squad? Well, you will have to stand next to his corpse for fifteen minutes now. Want to make it a day standing next your dead brother? Want to watch the fly infesta tion begin while you’re waiting to die?’

Max swung his head from side to side, confused.

‘Then tell me what I want to know.’

‘I do not know any more. I have nothing more to tell you.’

Mann looked at the clock. ‘Twenty-two minutes. Buzzzzz. It doesn’t take long for flies to start laying eggs. They start laying in wet places: eyes, nose, mouth.’

Max looked at Li for help. Mann slammed his hand on the table. Max shrieked and turned back.

‘No one can help you, Max.’

Mann sat back and drank the rest of his coffee. He rolled the coffee cup in his hands.

‘The thing is, you deserve to die for your part in all of this, but you’re not the only one. Chan deserves it too. Nothing can make a difference to you dying or not, now, Max. Chan can’t cut your life any shorter than it is.’

‘What about my old father?’

‘How much longer do you think he’s going to last now without his sons to look after him? He’s as good as dead anyway. You did that – you, your brother, and Chan.’

Max started to whimper. Mann nodded towards Li, who picked up the packet of cigarettes and threw it over. Mann got one out, lit it, and placed it in Max’s shaking fingers.

‘The thing is, Max, after they have shot you and your brother full of holes, Chan will drink a toast to you. You will be dead and he will have escaped justice. Is that what you want? The man who reneged on his promise to your family? The man who used you and your brother? He walks free and leaves you both to carry all the guilt for him. That’s all right with you, is it? Chan cares less about what happens to you than he does about, say, Georgina.’

Max looked up.

‘Remember Georgina, Max?’

‘One of the nicest Gwaipohs I ever met.’ Max shook his head miserably and looked accusingly at Mann. ‘Good manners, always polite. Not like some.’

‘I’m not a Gweilo, Max – remember that. I may look like one, but inside I am all Chinese. Chan has her and he will kill her. Do you want that?’

Max shook his head – large despondent swings that took him seconds to complete.

‘There is still time to help Georgina,’ Mann persisted. ‘Do one good thing in your miserable life before you die … Now tell me … where would he take her, Max?’

Max looked at Mann. Looked away; looked back.

‘Where, Max?’

‘Find Miss Mad-arh-lin?’

‘Yes, Max. Find Miss Georgina. Try and right some of the wrongs you and your brother have done.’

Max looked at the floor, then back at Mann. He spluttered something.

‘What, Max?’

Max repeated it. This time he looked at Mann as he did so. ‘Maybe Cheung Chau. He has a cottage there.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Once, he stayed there for a week. He got ill. He rang me. I had to deliver some herbs from my father. I had to give him acupuncture. I went there.’

‘Do you remember where it was on the island?’

‘Straight across from the ferry, near the beach, a chalet. I don’t remember anything else.’

108

‘How are we getting there?’ Li asked as he appeared, carrying a backpack.

‘I have the keys to a boat.’ Mann held up a set of keys. A gold tag hung from them with the initials DW on it. Li looked at him. ‘It’s a friend’s.’

They drove down to the Hong Kong Yacht Club. Mann flashed his badge at the gates and they were ushered through. They headed towards the marina, parked up and walked along the line of expensive boats until they reached the mooring. Gently lapping against the side of the jetty, a white, fibreglass, twenty-one-foot Sea Ray Cruiser was waiting patiently for her first outing.

‘He must be a very good friend – to just give you the keys,’ said Li.

‘He is.’

‘Can you drive it?’

‘More or less. Stop asking questions now, Shrimp, and get in. Find a knob with BLOWER written on it.’ Mann switched the battery on, en route to the helm.

‘This one, boss?’

‘Yeah. Hit that one.’ Mann turned the key and put the throttle into reverse. ‘Cast off, Shrimp.’

‘What?’

‘Undo the rope that’s stopping us from going anywhere.’

‘Okay, boss. Awesome!’

Mann turned the boat and headed for the islands. The waters were quiet: the large ships were laid up for the night, all the ferries finished. Their small boat cut through the still water effortlessly as it glided between the huge ships like a cleaner fish on patrol.

Li pulled out a pair of board shorts and a surfer’s T-shirt from the backpack.

‘Where are you going to put your gun, and how many more outfits have you got in that locker of yours?’

‘Just a few.’ Li came to join Mann at the helm. ‘Got my handgun where I keep my board wax. What’s the plan, boss?’

‘We avoid using guns if we can. We don’t want to attract attention. If possible we want to get the girl, get Chan, and get out. Fast and slick.’

‘Awesome!’

‘Yeah, well, that’s the plan, but I’m not sure how we are going to achieve it yet. And another thing, Shrimp – Chan will be guarded by his most loyal. They are the men who killed Kim, back at Sixty-Eight. They don’t take prisoners and neither will we. Are you okay with that?’

‘More than that, boss – I am trained in empty-handed combat – I won’t let you down.’

Mann looked Shrimp up and down and resisted the urge to smile. Li had finished his outfit off with a peak cap.

‘I can believe it. Good man.’

‘Boss, if you’re not carrying a gun, what are you packing?’

‘These…’ Mann opened his jacket to reveal a custom-made knife belt with three pockets for throwing stars.

‘What the heck! I’ve never seen some of those before.’

‘Over the years I have confiscated various weapons from triad members, and some of them I’ve had customised. I’ll show you what they do later.’