customers was being escorted out. The place was being cleared. Three of the customers were glued to the window, their hands over their mouths in horror. Mann saw why. The restaurant overlooked the racetrack. The young Irish jockey in black and gold had fallen from CK’s balcony. His body was being transported away at the same time as the horse.
‘Sorry to keep you,’ CK said as he entered the now empty restaurant and took up a seat opposite Mann at the window table. ‘The death of a horse must be investigated. Everyone involved in the event must take some responsibility.’
‘I see the jockey took it hard.’
‘Ah, yes.’ CK glanced out of the window and realized that Mann must have had a good view of the events. ‘I tried to console him but he was very distraught. He was dedicated. He lived for that horse.’
CK waited as the waiter placed his napkin across his lap.
‘This is not the best restaurant in Hong Kong of course. But I like the traditional decor, the views; I like its atmosphere. I like the silence.’ Now there was just the sound of twenty waiters with nothing to do but cater to two men’s needs as they walked softly over the stone floor and wound their way between the heavy rosewood furniture.
The waitress was a pretty girl from the mainland, traditional beauty: slight in figure, delicate, child-like, dressed in a chic coolie outfit. She spoke to them in Mandarin. CK kept his eyes on her as she waited to take their order. Mann ordered his usual – large Zubrowka vodka, ice, twist of lime. CK ordered a bourbon straight. The waitress didn’t need to take a food order. The chef was ordered to prepare everything on the menu. They would never eat it all but in Hong Kong waste equalled wealth. Duck heads arrived for them to pick at. CK watched the waitress walk away before he turned back to Mann. Mann smiled. He was oddly amused by CK’s lechery. It was the first time he had seen a weakness for the flesh in CK.
CK studied Mann. ‘I am pleased that you reconsidered your position and accepted my invitation, Inspector.’
‘My father has left me no choice. There are some things that I will have to deal with. There are decisions that will have to be made whether I like it or not. I think there are some companies with which I can be involved and not harm my integrity.’ As Mann said the words he had rehearsed in his head they sounded strangely true and he felt oddly calmer for having said them. Now he was really worried.
‘I am glad that you have finally begun to see reason. There is no escaping one’s destiny.’
CK paused and waited until the young waitress was out of earshot. He stopped picking at the duck eyes and replaced his chopsticks on their holder. ‘I can help you. I will make you an offer that I believe will be perfect for us both. You get to keep your integrity, I get the rewards I feel I deserve. After all, I have been looking after a portion of your father’s assets for years. This is a deal for your ears only.’ CK paused.
They were interrupted by the owner of the restaurant who came over and whispered something in CK’s ear. The waiter hastily laid another place beside CK. CK nodded his agreement and picked the napkin from his lap as he prepared to stand.
‘We have a guest.’
Mann looked behind him to see a Chinese woman walking towards them. She was taller than average, more athletic looking. She had curves. She was elegant, in her mid-thirties, perfectly groomed, sharp features, with her hair pinned high on her head, her fringe short, blunt. She was twinset and pearls, pencil skirt, box jacket, conservative. But then Mann took a look at her shoes, patent leather, black, five-inch heels. He heard the rustle beneath the skirt. Mann didn’t need an introduction, he knew her. She was CK’s daughter and the widow of his one-time best friend, Chan, now one more drifting set of bones in the South China Sea. She was CK’s only legitimate child; his other was a younger daughter, borne by a concubine and still at school in England.
When Mann was tracking Chan he had made a study of Victoria. He knew what size dresses she wore, which perfume she liked, where she played tennis, which lunch venue she preferred when she was entertaining her friends. Mann also knew that Victoria Chan married beneath her. She was privately educated in England. She had gone to Oxford and studied English. This was a woman who had juggled Chinese and Western cultures, had tried to catch the balls and then realized she hadn’t been passed any. This was the woman who had done what her father ordered, but along the way she had compromised herself. He stood as she approached. She looked from CK to Mann, where her eyes stayed as she walked towards them.
Mann knew what she must be thinking: Let’s get a good look at the man who killed my husband.
Mann waited whilst Victoria was seated. She declined food but ordered tea. He looked across at her. She was difficult to read. Surely she could not want anything from Mann? They had every reason in the world to mistrust one another. Yet they had things in common. They were both educated in boarding school in England. They both had a Triad for a father. But Mann didn’t intend to follow in his father’s footsteps. She obviously did. He waited for her tea to be poured and for the waiter to step away from the table. Mann wondered what she was really like beneath the cool exterior.
‘My daughter has a business proposal she wishes to put to you.’
Victoria studied Mann as if he were on the menu. After she seemed satisfied about which bit of him she would eat first, she gave a slight curl of her perfectly defined vampire-red mouth. When she spoke she had the merest hint of a lisp. The tiniest gap between her front teeth. ‘Good evening, Inspector. I trust you have enjoyed the evening’s events so far. Did you win?’
‘No. My horse had a better offer right at the end.’ Mann sat back, sipped his vodka and studied her in turn. ‘Tell me, Victoria, what is it with you? I just don’t get it. Well-educated, independent woman of the new order. You could be anything you want. Why choose the life of a Triad?’ Mann’s eyes flicked towards CK. He wouldn’t interfere. He was studying them both as if he were the proud coach of two prize fighters indulging in pre-match banter.
‘I am proud to be working for the Leung Corporation.’ She smiled, her eyes lowered and she inclined her head in a deferential bow towards her father. CK inclined his head back to her. His eyes lit up with menace as he listened with pride to his daughter.
Mann put down his drink, leaned forwards and smiled at Victoria. The ice maiden had nerves of steel. Mann wondered how long it would be before CK had to watch his back; when the pupil became the master. ‘You can use your money, pretty it up to make it look respectable but we all know where it comes from in the beginning. It never crosses your mind that it’s made from selling children into brothels, killing teenagers with drugs. It never for one tiny second crosses that mind of yours to feel a sense of disgust at the way you make your money?’
‘All money comes down to a dirty beginning. I merely accept it once it comes into my hands and I use it to the best of my ability. We have donated large sums of money to local children’s projects in Hong Kong. We are happy to reinvest in Hong Kong’s future.’
‘Schools?’
‘Yes, part of our investment is in schools.’
‘You’re happy to recruit from the kindergarten, you mean?’ Victoria Chan went to answer. He didn’t give her the chance. ‘Which schools? Schools on the immigrant, no hope, wrong side of the track?’
‘If you mean the disadvantaged, then, yes.
