She had thought that, at the very least, her sudden departure to Hong Kong would be an escape from what had been happening in London – the monastery, the sense of being followed, the restaurant that had blown up. But of course it wasn’t. It was a continuation, part of the same thing. The events that had closed in on her in London had followed her here. She was caught in the same trap. But here it was even worse. She was far from her friends and family, alone in a city that seemed to be hostile in every way.
This was all happening because she was a Gatekeeper. She remembered what Father Gregory had told her. He had talked about an ancient evil… the Old Ones. Scarlett didn’t know exactly what they were but she could imagine the worst. They were here, in Hong Kong. That would explain everything. The Old Ones were toying with her. They were the ones who were controlling the crowd.
What was she going to do?
She could march into the kitchen and tell Mrs Cheng that she didn’t want to wait for her father, that she was taking the next flight back to London. She could telephone her mother in Australia or the headmistress at St Genevieve’s. They would get her out of here. She could even contact the police.
But she knew that none of it would work. The forces ranged against her were too powerful. She could see it every time she went outside. Hong Kong was sick. There was a sort of cancer that had spread through every alleyway and every street and which had infected everyone who walked there. Did she seriously think that they were just going to let her walk out of here? So far, they hadn’t threatened her directly. That hadn’t been part of their plan. But if she challenged them, if she tried to assert herself, they would close in on her and she would only make her situation worse.
She had just one hope. The people who were trying to reach her: they had to be on her side. We are your friends. That was what they had told her. She just had to behave normally until she reached them. Then, once she knew what was really happening, she would be able to act.
She got up and got dressed. The fortune-teller’s note was beside the bed, but now she tucked it away beneath the mattress. Whoever her friends were, they were being very careful. They were contacting her in four separate stages: the guidebook hidden in her luggage, the illuminated sign across the harbour, the bird of fortune at Tin Hau and finally a meeting this afternoon. The question was, how was she going to persuade Mrs Cheng to take her back to The Peak?
They had already been there once. Victoria Peak was the mountain that rose up behind Hong Kong, a must- see for every tourist. Scarlett had gone there on the second day, taking the old wooden tram – it was actually a funicular railway – up the slope to the top, five hundred metres above the city. The views were meant to be spectacular but they hadn’t seen very much on account of the pollution. Maybe that was the answer. If the weather cheered up, it would give her an excuse to go back.
Mrs Cheng was in the kitchen, cooking an omelette for Scarlett’s breakfast.
“Good morning, Scarlett.”
“Good morning, Mrs Cheng.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you.”
As Scarlett sat down, it occurred to her that she had never seen the woman eat – not so much as a mouthful. Even when they went to restaurants together, Mrs Cheng only ordered food for Scarlett. In fact she had only ever shown hunger once. That had been at the market when they examined the hideous, sliced-in-half but still-living fish.
“So where would you like to go today, Scarlett?” They were exactly the same words she had used the day before. And she spoke without any real enthusiasm, as if it was simply what she had been programmed to say.
“Why don’t we go back to The Peak?” Scarlett suggested. “We didn’t see anything very much last time. Maybe we’ll get a better view.”
Mrs Cheng looked out of the window. “There’s a lot of cloud,” she remarked.
“But it’s going to cheer up this afternoon,” Scarlett said. “I saw the forecast on TV.” It was grim outside with a non-stop drizzle sweeping across the sky. And the forecast had said it would stay the same for the rest of the week. But somehow Scarlett knew she was right.
“I don’t think so.” Mrs Cheng shook her head. “Maybe you would like to go to the cinema?”
“Let’s see what it’s like this afternoon,” Scarlett pleaded. “I’m sure it will clear up.”
And against all the odds, it did. At around two o’clock, the clouds finally parted and the sun came out, still weak against the ever-present pollution, but definitely there. Even Mrs Cheng had to agree that it was too nice an afternoon to stay indoors and so the two of them set out.
The receptionist was in his usual place as they left Wisdom Court, sitting stiffly behind the desk and wearing the same dark suit and white shirt, watching them with no expression at all. As they went past, Scarlett noticed something. The man had a black spot, a mole, on the side of his face. At least, that was what she thought. Then the spot moved. It crawled over his cheek and began to climb up and she realized that it was actually a fly, one of the fat, black insects that had come to her window that morning. The receptionist didn’t move. He didn’t try to swat it. He didn’t even seem to have noticed it and did nothing as the creature reached the corner of his eye and began to feed.
Scarlett couldn’t get out of the building fast enough. Wisdom Court was only a few minutes from the tram station and they could have walked but Karl drove them anyway. But at least he had decided not to come to the top. Mrs Cheng bought tickets for the two of them and she and Scarlett got onto the tram.
Although the station looked new, the tram itself had been built more than a hundred years before. Climbing on board was like stepping back in history. They took their places on the polished, wooden seats and a short while later, with no warning, they set off, trundling up the tracks through thick vegetation with occasional glimpses of the city, ever smaller and more distant as they went. There were about twenty tourists sharing the ride, some of them small children, laughing and pointing. Watching them, Scarlett wished that she could be like them, part of an ordinary family, out here on holiday. She was only a few seats away from them but they could have been inhabiting a different world. Had they really got no inkling about what was happening in Hong Kong? Was she the only one to feel the all-pervading sense of evil?
We will be waiting.
She focused her mind on what lay ahead. Who would be there and why had they chosen The Peak of all places? Maybe it was because it was outside the city, away from the buildings. At the summit there would be no crowds, no surveillance cameras. It was somewhere with room to breathe.
The tram arrived and the passengers poured out, straight into a complex that seemed to have been specially built to make as much money from as many tourists as possible. From the outside it looked like a bizarre observation tower, like something out of Star Wars. Inside, it was full of tacky shops and restaurants with a Madame Tussaud’s and a Ripley’s Believe-it-or-Not with signs inviting visitors to “come and see the world’s fattest man”. Scarlett couldn’t wait to get out.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested. She was careful to sound as innocent as possible.
Mrs Cheng looked doubtful. She wasn’t dressed for a walk – in a short, grey skirt, black stockings and high- heeled shoes. “Maybe a short way…” she muttered.
There was a distinct chill in the air as the two of them made their way down a slope, passing a man who was sweeping leaves. Scarlett knew what she was looking for. A path that led off from the Lugard Road. That was what the fortune-teller’s note had said. She saw the sign almost at once. Without even waiting for Mrs Cheng to catch up, she set off.
The path was three miles long, snaking all the way round the mountain, paved all the way. On one side there was The Peak itself, with a tangle of exotic trees and bushes hanging overhead. On the other was an iron railing, to prevent anyone falling down the hill. There weren’t many other people around. The changing weather must have dissuaded them, and the other tourists who had come up in the tram had all stayed inside. Soon Scarlett found that she and Mrs Cheng were entirely on their own.
There was a strange atmosphere on The Peak. The mist had returned, hanging in the air, almost blotting out the sun. Everything was washed out, dark green and pale white. There were birds whistling, squawking and rattling in the undergrowth, but none of them could be seen. The path was lost in the clouds and it was impossible to see more than twenty metres ahead. As she made her way forward, Scarlett found it easy to imagine that she had somehow travelled back in time, that this was some Eastern version of Jurassic Park and that a dinosaur might be
