He took his time on the drive home, but half-way there he realised how hungry he was and put his foot down. Mei met him at the door, her expression saying, ‘Where the hell have you been?’ far more eloquently than words. He winked and kissed her on the forehead and, making a pretence of being annoyed, she flounced off to the kitchen. The delicious aroma coming from it made Jie’s mouth water.

  Her father sat in Jie’s favourite chair wearing his habitual supercilious sneer. Jie asked about his family and received a report of how well his four sons were doing. As usual, he took pleasure in detailing their professional successes and how much money they made, this last delivered with a pointed look round the compact living room. He didn’t mention their honesty. The old man then started on his grandchildren and Jie’s stomach sank.

  “Food’s ready.” Mei carried a steaming dish to the dining table in the corner of their small living room.

  Jie leaped to his feet, hoping the variety of tasty dishes Mei had spent all day preparing would distract the old man. After the second dish, delicious double-taste crabs, her father started again, listing the academic achievements of his grandchildren.

  Mei’s face fell and Jie interrupted. “How’s the crab?”

  “Hmm.” The old man grimaced. “Not bad.”

  Jie felt like punching him. Despite their great successes, none of the old man’s sons had married great cooks, none to compare with Mei. “It’s absolutely delicious, the best I have tasted.” Jie wasn’t exaggerating - well, not much - and Mei’s grateful expression made him feel a giant.

  The old man looked at him sourly, unhappy at being contradicted. He ate in silence for a few moments then lobbed a hand grenade. “It’s difficult for mothers to spend time cooking, as you would have discovered, daughter, had your husband given you a child. Of course it’s much too late now.”

  Mei stood and, picking up an empty dish, rushed from the room. Jie didn’t follow, nor did he hit the old man. The father-in-law mentioned his daughter’s failure to give him a grandchild at least once during each visit, always adding the suggestion the fault lay with her husband, as her side of the family was very fertile.

  Jie had found out soon after they married that his wife couldn’t have children, the result of a botched abortion when she was young. She told him once and never spoke of it again. He let her father put the blame on him. The old man chewed the last mouthful, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

  Jie reminded himself he was only here for a few days and his daughter loved him, although he couldn’t understand why, so he would put up with him. Mei returned, red-eyed, with more delicious food. Jie made a point of praising each mouthful and her father, despite his grudging appreciation, cleared every morsel put in front of him.

  Afterwards the men sat at the coffee table, drinking rice wine and playing Mahjong, Jie wondering how soon he could go to bed. As if in answer to his prayers, the phone rang and he leaped up to answer it.

  “Inspector, it’s Sergeant Chen.”

  “Yes, Sergeant.”

  “Just letting you know we’re leaving the hospital.”

  “Why are you telling me? I didn’t want to know every time the guards change.”

  “No sir, there’s nobody relieving us, we’re not needed any—”

  “Has something happened?” Jie felt sick.

  “The people have arrived to collect him. I thought you knew.”

  Jie checked the time, sure the young woman said they’d be arriving at eleven tomorrow but maybe he misunderstood her. “They have papers?”

  “Of course, sir,” Chen said, affronted.

  Jie hesitated, but Chen was a diligent officer, renowned for his adherence to procedures. “Thank you for letting me know, Sergeant.”

  Jie ended the call with a sense of relief: he no longer had to worry about the Englishman.

  Thursday 7 June 2001

  The small ground-floor workshop strained to contain the six officers, but it gave the best view of the building across the narrow alleyway. At any moment, a courier would deliver the goods bought with the Englishman’s stolen card. Jie leaned against a wall next to the door, looking through a small grimy window. In a scruffy building down a muddy alley, the room looked like nobody had cleaned it since the walls went up. Tang stood to attention, avoiding touching anything. The other four officers slouched against shelving or rested on a bench along the opposite wall. Where had Tang found them? They resembled those huge Japanese wrestlers, useful in a fight, but they took up so much space.

  The atmosphere had been less than fresh when they arrived. The effect of six bodies being in there for two hours did not improve matters. He rummaged in his pocket and produced a crushed cigarette which he inserted between his lips. He went to light it but Tang gripped his forearm. Jie glared at the offending hand and a red-faced Tang snatched it away.

  “Sorry, sir, but do you think smoking is a good idea?” she whispered.

  Jie considered for a moment and removed the cigarette from his lips. He looked at it and, deciding it wasn’t worth saving, let it fall. Tang hadn’t hidden her irritation when Jie turned up, and he felt guilty abandoning Mei, but missing breakfast with his father-in-law was worth it.

  The sounds of a small motor echoed off the surrounding walls and a three-wheeled van crawled round the puddles of oily liquid in the alleyway. He looked at his watch: five past nine. The vehicle arrived at the entrance they had under surveillance, less than five metres away, and stopped. A uniformed driver dismounted and, retrieving three parcels from the back, he locked the van and approached the building.

  The ennui which had overtaken Jie vanished and he sensed the excitement of the others. A bell rang inside the building. The driver rang it a second time before the door swung inward and a skinny old man, dressed in baggy cotton trousers and a filthy ripped shirt, appeared.

  “Okay, okay, what’s the rush,” he grumbled.

  Jie recognised him as the caretaker and signalled to his men to relax. Why the hell had the old man answered the door when he knew they were waiting for the recipient? The caretaker examined the parcel before signing his name on the clipboard, muttering about the impatience of youth.

  “You,” Jie signalled to the fittest-looking of the four constables, “Go with the sergeant and stick with the caretaker.”

  Tang raced out of the workshop and the caretaker started, almost dropping the parcels, before recognising her and heading back inside with a theatrical wink. Jie and the other three followed at a more discreet distance. The staircase stank of urine, stale cooking and something far worse. Three floors up, the now wheezing caretaker led the officers along the corridor to a rusty sheet of corrugated iron fashioned into a door. Jie led his three officers into an alcove from where he could see the action and waited. Tang and the constable stood flat against the wall, each side of the doorway.

  The caretaker gave a shrill call then kicked the door, making a racket to wake the spirits. He waited a few seconds before, in an unconscious parody of the delivery driver, he repeated the assault on the door.

  A man from inside complained, “Okay, old man, what’s the hurry?” With a screech of metal against concrete, the door opened and a figure stood in the shadows.

  “I’m sick of running your errands.” The caretaker thrust the packages at the newcomer.

  Tang and the constable with her rushed forward. The figure tried to close the door but moved too slowly and the bulky constable crashed through the flimsy barrier. Tang caught the caretaker with her shoulder, bundling him aside to land on his backside.

  His cry of reproach, the crash of the door, the yells from the figure in the doorway and the two officers, combined to create a cacophony that summoned the other occupants of the building. Before Jie and his three men could follow their colleagues, indignant neighbours, demanding to know what was going on, spilled out into the corridor. So much for a low profile operation. Jie ignored their questions and squeezed past the rusty metal flap.

  The constable had overpowered the man who had answered the door and held him face down on the floor. Tang stood on a small balcony at the far end of the room, struggling with a woman. Jie joined her as the woman threw herself over the side. Tang grabbed her wrists and held her, panting with exertion.

  “You okay, Sergeant?” Jie said, making sure Tang had a good hold on the small woman.

  “Sir... can you... help?”

  A constable joined them and, leaning over, grasped the woman’s collar to lift her back onto the balcony. He held her at eye level with her feet scrabbling for the floor. She spat in his face. He let go and, as she fell, slapped her hard. She landed in a heap at his feet and he kicked her in the ribs.

  “Stop!” Tang shouted.

  Looking surprised, the young constable retreated into the room. Tang helped the semi-conscious woman to her feet.

  “Make sure she’s not armed, Sergeant, then bring her in,” Jie said and followed the constable back into the apartment.

  His eyes took a while to adjust to the gloom. The stench was worse than the one he’d endured in the downstairs hovel. A simple rectangular box four metres square with one window, the room appeared to be sleeping and living quarters and a workshop. In one corner lay a mat next to a single-burner stove fed from a gas cylinder located out on the balcony. The other side of the room had a short workbench and small bundles of leather scattered around it. Jie now recognised the disgusting stench: badly cured leather. A bucket under the workbench appeared to serve as a toilet and added to the stink.

  Tang brought the woman in and dumped her in the middle of the floor next to the man. Both sat in silence, looking sorry for themselves, with matching nosebleeds.

  “Just these two in here?” Jie asked.

  “Yes, sir,” the policeman who’d hit the woman said.

  Jie studied the two on the floor, surprised at their youth. Grubby and stick thin, tell-tale needle tracks marked their spindly forearms. Two more drug addicts that didn’t officially exist.

  These weren’t the masterminds behind the thefts, they didn’t even have a computer. From the grubby surroundings and state of their garments, they obviously had no interest in designer clothes. The trampled packages sat piled in a corner.

  Jie picked one up and approached the prisoners. “Who sent you this?”

  “We’ve never seen it before. You must have planted it,” the girl spat.

  The constable behind her slapped her.

  A cry of, “Stop it, you brutes,” came from the doorway.

  “Let them go, they’ve done nothing wrong,” another voice added.

  The crowd which had gathered on the landing outside spilled into the room. Jie gave the order to clear the space then questioned the two addicts. Twenty minutes later, he’d discovered they sometimes accepted parcels on behalf of a mysterious figure who paid them in drugs. They had no idea of his identity or where he lived, but he was big, always wore a motorcycle helmet so they had never seen his face, and had a ‘normal’ voice. Useless as a description.

  “Shall we take them in, sir?” Tang asked.

  “No point, Sergeant. I believe them. Anyone with a modicum of common sense wouldn’t trust drug addicts.”

  “But they’re receiving stolen goods.”

  “Possibly. Bring the parcels.” Jie dragged the door open and stepped out into the corridor. He’d seen enough drug addicts die slowly in prison, at least here they cost the state nothing.

  “Shall we wait for the killer to collect these?” Tang brandished the parcels.

  The crowd on the landing had drifted away but the alleyway outside teemed with excited onlookers. “No point, that lot would have scared off anyone by now, but question the other residents to see if they have seen our mysterious motorcyclist.”

  Jie suspected they wouldn’t get a better description of the man in the helmet. He peered out of the window, lit a cigarette and inhaled a lungful. The sum total of the raid was four hours wasted, three designer leather jackets recovered and nobody worth arresting. The old caretaker stood to one side waiting for Jie to notice him, rubbing his rump, doubtless wanting compensation for getting in Tang’s way.

  “Yes?” Jie asked.

  “I know the man you’re looking for,” he announced.

  “Why didn’t you say?” Jie demanded.

  The man rubbed his backside again. “One of your men knocked me over. I’m an old man.”

  “Well, old man, it was a woman who knocked you over.” The old man looked sheepish. “Now, do your duty as a citizen and tell me what you know.”

  He glanced sideways at Tang who’d joined them. “Is there a reward?”

  “Your reward is we don’t arrest you for withholding information,” Tang said.

  “There’s no need for that, is there, old man?” Jie said.

  “No, sir,” the caretaker said. “My son saw the motorbike going into an apartment block near his work. It’s there several times a week.”

  Jie ground out his cigarette as Tang took down the details. Maybe they’d get something out of this raid.

  CHAPTER 22

  Manchester

  Kate snapped awake, bathed in sweat. Wisps of an ancient nightmare clung to her memory: tyres squealed and a woman screamed, then a crunch— a ringtone shattered the image.

  “Yes?” Kate’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. The time display read three fifty-seven.

  “Bondarenko here, why did you not tell me?”

  Kate fumbled for the light switch and sat up. “What are you talking about?”

  “My men are at hospital but your father is gone.”

  “He can’t be.” Drowsiness disappeared as her heart raced.

  “Ambulance take him last night. They said you arranged.”

  “I did not. What exactly did they say?”

  Kate listened to Bondarenko’s account and ended the call with a promise to ring him back. She rang Jie, leaving a message on his answering service, before getting hold of Eric Stevens, who sounded as if he was still at breakfast.

  “Eric, get off your arse and find out what’s happened to Oliver and what the hell the police are doing.”

  She cut off his protests and headed for the shower, letting the jets of scalding water pummel her skin as she fought the panic threatening to overwhelm her. She dried herself off, staring at the phone, willing it to ring. Despite her determination not to speculate, her mind conjured up images of a helpless Oliver being menaced by unknown assassins. The phone trembled and, glancing at the caller display, she saw it was an international call. She snatched it off the shelf.

  “Miss Kate, Senior Inspector Jie—”

  “Who are you?”

  “Sergeant Tang, the Inspector asked me to call.”

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “We do not know.”

  “What the hell were you playing at? You’re supposed to keep him safe.”

  “There was confusion when Inspector Jie get your call—”

  “This is your mess.” Kate recognised the edge of hysteria in her voice and took a deep breath. “What happened?”

  “Our men expect your guards and two men arrived with papers—”

  “What papers?” Could someone have got hold of the letter she emailed Bondarenko? The suspicion he might be in on it lasted only a few moments. He’d been angry.

  “Letter, saying they have your authority. They have uniform and ambulance so hospital let them take—”

  “You mean they took him in an ambulance?”

  “Yes, hospital say normal, they have American last month taken.”

  “Who took him?” TravelMed must have changed their minds.

  “I email…”

  Kate ended the call and ran to the spare room to fire up her new laptop. While she waited, she tried the numbers for TravelMed but it wasn’t half four yet and nobody answered. As she punched in the emergency twenty-four-hour number, her email pinged. The attachment showed the H & T letterhead and purported to be from her, but it wasn’t the one she’d sent, and the signature bore no resemblance to hers.

  London

  Byron reached his front door on the way to work when his phone rang. “Adam, what can I do for you?”

  “Sorry to disturb you, Byron, I got a big favour to ask.”

  “Do you need the protection team?” He’d sounded out two of his best men and they’d reluctantly agreed to go up to Manchester for a few days, but had acted like he’d asked them to go to the outer reaches of Siberia. One had even asked if they had McDonald’s up there.

  “Can you come with me to China?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Kate’s dad has disappeared.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she okay?”

  Adam hesitated. “She seems to be coping, but she wants to go so she can keep an eye on things.”

  “Has she spoken to Bondarenko?”

  “He told her about it.”

  “What’s she hoping to achieve? I imagine the local police will look into it. They don’t mess about.”

  “She knows people there, and is expecting to do some investigating, but needs a couple of minders.”

  “I really don’t know, Adam.” Now wasn’t a good time to go to China.

  “She’s paying good money and to be honest I could do with it. The roof needs replacing and I was going to have to get a loan.”

  Extra money would be handy, now they’d promised Theo ten grand. “What does Siobhan say? You have told her?”

  “Of course.” Adam sounded defensive. “She’s cool about it.”

  “Oh yeah, cool or frosty?”

  “She’s fine,” he hesitated, “I told her you’d be coming.”

  Byron couldn’t stop a laugh escaping. “It sounds like I don’t have a choice then.”

  “Great.”

  “When were you thinking?”

  “There’s a flight from Heathrow this afternoon, we’re getting—”

  “Whoa!” He wouldn’t leave until they’d sorted out Theo’s mess on Friday. “The earliest I can do is tomorrow afternoon.”

 

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