will remain with the families who will be joint owners of Eurasia Enterprises with China. If they choose to sell their interests, that is up to them. I highly recommend that they do so. I plan to retire. I will leave Hong Kong and find a nice quiet place to live out the rest of my life.
“EurAsia Enterprises was begun a century and a half ago by my great-great-grandfather. It started out modestly, but grew into an international trade organization. I have been proud to lead the company since I took it over from my own father twenty years ago. But, like Hong Kong itself, all good things must come to an end. That is all. Thank you.”
He started to leave the platform, but the mass of reporters raised their arms. “Mr. Thackeray! One question!” they called. Thackeray hesitated and said, “All right, I’ll take a couple of questions. You, in the front row.”
A woman stood up and asked, “What made you decide to sell your company to the Chinese? Despite the troubles EurAsia has experienced recently, it’s still a multi-billion dollar company!”
Murmurs from the crowd indicated that they all had the same question.
“Yes, you’re right, it
A man asked, “Where are you planning to go?”
“I haven’t decided. Certainly not England. I’ve never lived there nor do I wish to. That’s all. Thank you for coming.”
He left the platform abruptly, and pandemonium broke out. The EurAsia people jumped up and ran towards Thackeray. The two bodyguards protected him but Bond could feel their anger and dismay. This was all news to them. Very bad news.
“Mr. Thackeray! What is the meaning of this? How long have you known?”
Thackeray turned to them and said, “I’m sorry. You must make other arrangements with your lives. Most of you hold foreign passports. I suggest you use them. It’s been a pleasure working with you all. Now I must leave.”
It was a cold and cruel response. Despite the terseness of the announcement, Bond perceived that it had been very painful for Thackeray to make it. He was doing his best to remain stoic, though. Even the Englishman who hated Britain was keeping a stiff upper lip. He turned and walked out of Statue Square and got into the back seat of a black Mercedes waiting on Des Voeux Road. His window remained down as he looked out at the crowd and gave a little wave. He wasn’t smiling.
Bond watched as the Mercedes pulled away and stopped at a red light. A lorry moved into the lane between the car and the spectators, blocking their view for a moment. The light turned green, and the lorry moved forward. The car moved into the intersection slowly. Thackeray’s window was still down but he had retreated into the darkness of the vehicle and couldn’t be seen.
Suddenly, a young Chinese man dressed in black ran out into the intersection from the other side of the street. He passed by the open window of the Mercedes and threw something into it. Then he started running north across the square for all he was worth.
The car exploded into flames with such force that many of the people closest to it were injured. Bond felt the heat from the blast, and he was a hundred metres away. He quickly surveyed the scene—at least three pedestrians were lying on the ground, clutching their eyes. Everyone was screaming and running around in a panic. The Mercedes was totally destroyed. Only the smoking, charred chassis remained. Pieces of debris, possibly mixed with human body parts, lay in black, burning heaps on the street. Along with everyone else, Bond was shocked. The CEO of EurAsia Enterprises had been assassinated while the whole world watched.
Bond turned to locate the running man and saw him leave the square and run into the plaza underneath the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank building. Bond took off after him; no one else had been alert enough to follow him. Thackeray’s bodyguards must have been blown to bits as well.
Access to the bank from the plaza was by way of what were claimed to be the longest free-standing escalators in the world. The entrance was set into a double glass ceiling above the plaza, and let visitors out on level three, the public banking business area. The assassin had disappeared up the escalator and was now inside the bank, probably hoping he could lose himself in the crowd and eventually sneak out. Determined to find him, Bond scrambled up the escalator.
Bond stepped out on to the third level and was struck by the spectacular atrium rising 170 feet through eleven levels of the building. The tellers’ area was situated on the north and south sides of the atrium. Other escalators went up to a fifth level, where more public banking services were available. Bond quickly scanned the place from the east end of the building.
Black was not an easy colour to spot in a crowd. The bank was fairly busy, as it was near closing time. There was no sign of the assassin. Bond looked up to the fifth level and thought he saw a man in black moving along the right side of the atrium towards the west side of the building. He quickly ran up the next escalator to the fifth level.
Attempting to look inconspicuous, Bond stepped up to a long counter where bank customers filled out forms and deposit slips. He surveyed the large room and found his prey. The assassin was moving towards a bank of lifts on the west side of the building. He was looking around, trying to determine if he was being followed. Bond kept moving towards him, picking up his pace.
By now, police cars and a fire engine had arrived outside. Many of the bank’s employees were looking out of the south-side windows at the chaos in the street below. A security guard who usually blocked access to the lifts was also curious and had wandered over to the windows. The assassin reached the lift lobby and pressed a button. Then he saw Bond moving towards him, and a look of panic crossed his face.
Bond started to run. There was a good eighty metres between them. The lift door opened and the assassin stepped inside quickly. Damn! Now Bond didn’t care who saw him. He ran full speed to the bank of lifts and pressed the “UP” button. He watched the numbers on the assassin’s lift, noting that it stopped on twelve. Bond’s lift came and he got inside, just as he heard the security guard shout at him to stop.
Level twelve was the top of the atrium. One could look out and survey all the public areas from this impressive vantage point. Access to the higher floors was restricted to bank personnel only. A security guard stood by the lifts to prevent people from wandering up. Bond’s lift door opened just in time for him to see the assassin club the guard on the back of his head. The guard fell and the assassin ran to the left towards a stairwell enclosed in glass.
“Stop!” Bond shouted. He hesitated to draw his Walther PPK—he didn’t want to start a panic inside the bank. But then the assassin opened the door to the stairwell and an alarm sounded, alerting everyone in the building to their presence.
The assassin began to run up the zigzagging flights of stairs. Bond followed him into the stairwell, and took the steps two at a time. Three guards had joined the chase, and the police were most likely on their way. They entered the stairwell after Bond had climbed two flights and shouted “Stop!” in Cantonese. One of the men then shouted the word in English.
Bond called down to them. “The man who blew up the car outside is running up the stairs! He’s dressed in black!” Then he continued the chase.
Who could the assassin be? Was he Triad? Was he part of the Dragon Wing? Why was Guy Thackeray killed? Had he been the target of the floating restaurant disaster after all, and was this a second attempt on his life? Was this some kind of vendetta? Perhaps someone in the organization knew of his intention to sell the company’s stock to China and wanted to stop him. It was possible that the Triad wasn’t involved at all. The puzzle was certainly becoming more convoluted. Bond wondered how he would get to the bottom of any of this now that Thackeray was dead.
He heard a door slam above him. The assassin had left the stairwell. Thanks to Bond’s acute sense of hearing, he estimated that the sound couldn’t have been more than fifty metres above him. Bond stepped on to the next landing and was met by the rattle of gunfire. The assassin had shot a security guard in the doorway of the twentieth floor. Normally there was no exit from the stairwell without a card key. The guard must have opened the door from the inside, hoping to intercept the killer. Now his body was lying in the doorway, jamming it open. Bond leaped over the body and bolted through the door in pursuit.
He saw the killer running towards an open-plan area full of desks and office staff. The employees were cowering against the windows. The assassin leaped on to a desk, turned, and fired an automatic pistol at Bond, who dived for the floor just in time. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he drew his Walther, but the man had
