reached over and touched his hand.
‘You know, Mia, I never saw you as the sentimental type,’ Mann said, surprised. It had been a long time since they had been off duty together. ‘But, you know, maybe it’s not too late for us…we can go back to that single bed in my room in the academy halls. I can see it now…’
Mia laughed. ‘Yeah, so can I. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Your woman on tap and she’s your boss; you’d have me bent over every desk in the department. But…’ Mia finished her drink and shook her head, ‘…in the end you’d do a better job of breaking my heart than Daniel ever did.’
‘Forget men like Daniel and Sheng. You always pick the wrong ones – you attract them. You carry your emotional baggage with you like a third arm. It’s visible everywhere you go, Mia – get rid of it, cut it off, move on. He wasn’t worthy of you then and he isn’t now. You settled for less than you should have. You let your guard down too early. You got caught. You need to find someone outside the force. You shouldn’t bother with men like Sheng.’
‘Sheng isn’t that bad. He is going through a bad time at home. His daughter has got in trouble. He’s a good father. But, anyway, I don’t know why I’m listening to you. Your track record isn’t any better than mine.’ As soon as Mia said it she regretted it. ‘I’m sorry, Johnny. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.’
‘No, you’re right, Mia. My track record stinks. I treated Helen badly. I couldn’t commit to her. Something about the grass is greener. But you know what they say about greener grass, don’t you, Mia?’
‘Yeah. It still gets weeds and it still needs mowing.’
Chapter 21
The next morning Mann, Tom Sheng and Mia met at the far end of the incident room. In the background an Urdu translator could be heard on the phone. He had been brought in to phone the Indian groups and see if anyone could identify the dead girl.
‘We are pretty sure she came from the Mansions,’ said Mann.
‘Then we flood the place with uniformed officers asking questions-’ Sheng said.
‘No,’ interrupted Mann. ‘The Mansions are a volatile, unpredictable place. There are an awful lot of people who will run when they see uniforms coming in. They will think it’s immigration. Even if they have nothing to fear they will panic.’
‘Christ, we have created another walled city,’ muttered Sheng, ‘and right in the middle of the business district. The sooner it’s knocked down the better.’
Mann shook his head. ‘You’re wrong. It serves a good purpose. It’s the cheapest place to stay in Hong Kong. One hundred and twenty nationalities live there at any one time. Where are they going to go?’
‘They’re mainly made up of illegal immigrants, overstayers and drug pedlars, every type of scammer and Triad. Fights are commonplace. Deaths are a daily occurrence. Now we have young Triads taking over in there.’
‘You go in there like some fucking stormtrooper and they’ll split, reform and make an even bigger problem somewhere else. It’s not only them in the Mansions. We also have the impoverished backpackers, poor migrant workers. Four thousand people live there amongst the sweatshops and saunas.’
‘I agree with Mann.’ Mia looked tired. They were all fractious. ‘Mann and Shrimp can achieve a lot more by being discreet in there. We want to try and find out why she was killed as well as who she was.’
‘I’ll get down there as soon as this meeting’s over with,’ said Mann. ‘I have other business in there. One of the schoolgirls active in the recruitment is a girl named Lilly Mendoza. Her mother Michelle is a singer.’
‘Have you had trouble with her before?’ asked Mia.
‘Now and again. Sometimes she had to double as a hooker just to make ends meet and feed her habit. I’ve ticked her off a few times. She used to have a bad habit of fleecing the johns she went upstairs with after her set. We haven’t had any complaints for a while. Either she’s stopped or found a new angle. When I’m in the Mansions I’ll pay them a visit.’
‘What about Victoria Chan?’ Sheng was watching Mann very closely. ‘You met with her?’
‘Yes.’ Mann put down his coffee cup and looked hard at Sheng. ‘She wants to redevelop the Mansions. She says she wants to make it a community project. I think we can be pretty sure she is lying and intends to make a luxury development out of it. She hopes that if her new group, the Outcasts, cause enough trouble then the Mansions will have to be pulled down.’
‘Why does she have to go to those lengths, why doesn’t she just do it?’
‘Because the Leung Corporation doesn’t own the majority share. I have inherited the majority share of the Mansions.’
A silence spread through the incident room.
Sheng shook his head and grinned. ‘This is all a very convenient home from home for you, isn’t it, Mann? Doesn’t it feel more than a little fucking ironic that we devote our lives to hunting down and eliminating Triads when we have one on our own doorstep?’
Mann looked at Sheng and then at Mia. She was willing him not to rise to the bait.
‘The thing is, your father wasn’t just a Triad; he was a damn good one. He made a lot of money selling heroin to the kids of Europe. I wonder how many lost lives he was personally responsible for taking. A lot more than we have ever saved, that’s for sure.’ Sheng looked at Mia. ‘How can someone whose inheritance includes large chunks of Triad dough, be considered a secure officer in the OCTB? We don’t know where his loyalties lie. Do you trust him to watch your back? Because I fucking don’t.’
Mann thought about it. ‘You’re right, Sheng. You are so right.’ Mann stood; Sheng got to his feet. ‘I am never going to watch your back. I don’t give a shit who sticks a knife into it. And…’ He picked Sheng up by his jacket lapels. ‘…If I do ever cross the line, Sheng, believe me I’m coming for you first.’
Chapter 22
‘Tailor, sirs? Copy watches? Copy bags?’ It was the middle of the day and the Indian touts were out in force. They swarmed around the pink-skinned tourists like flies on fresh meat.
The Mansions were at the harbour end of Nathan Road. Nathan Road was the place to get anything made or copied. It was nicknamed the Golden Mile: it glittered, it sparkled, even when it was real it looked fake. It was a great snapshot of Hong Kong. Twenty-foot-high neon signs flashed their adverts. Girls with thigh-high socks and mini skirts chased one another across the linear images. Music videos blared down next to ginseng sellers and noodle bars. The middle of the buildings bulged like saggy pot bellies over the road, weighted with fifty competing neon signs. The back streets were impassable by car.
Shrimp was waiting for him. Mann hadn’t any trouble spotting him – he had slicked his hair back Saturday Night Fever -style and was wearing a vintage black suit, purple shiny shirt, thin black tie.
‘Hello, Boss.’
Mann held him back as he went to walk up the steps. ‘Did you dress especially for this?’
‘Huh?’
‘Never mind.’ Mann smiled to himself.
Shrimp shook his head and followed Mann up the steps to the Mansions.
Within a few paces they were engulfed by the din and chaos of another world. They wound their way through making slow progress amongst the money changers and the touts for guesthouses. The place was like every type of bazaar or busy market, a snapshot of Africa, India, Asia. Together they set up their food stalls side by side blaring out their brand of music. The Mansions belonged to no country. It was its own world under the canopy of fluorescent lighting and overhead pipes. It had corridors like narrow hospital wards. By day the ground floor was crammed with shoppers and stalls selling goods from around the world, food stalls that offered goat and Halal food, all castes, all colours catered for and fed. But there was a tense, precarious harmony.
Mann steered Shrimp through and towards the second set of lifts on the left. ‘We’ll start on the third floor. I
