The Trafficked (2 page)
‘They here?’
Jojo leaned in. ‘One of dem is here…sat left of d stage…wid a young Filipina…big white guy…peak cap.’ Jojo turned away from Mann and leaned his back against the bar, pretending to be interested in the boxing match, which had reached its fifth round. He kept his eyes diverted from Mann and kept smiling. ‘A-nudder ting,’ he whispered. ‘Dat old white guy’s got
some-thin hard in his pocket an it ain’t his big old cock. You go-in’ to spoil my business you make trouble here, Johnny.’
‘Relax, old friend. There’ll be no trouble.’
Mann picked up his drink and walked across the lane. He sat on the end of a table of Dutch tourists, directly behind the man. It was hard to see his face, hidden beneath the peak cap, just the candlelight and crescent moon to help. But Mann could see that he was big, strong and weathered, ex-military, with tattoos covering his upper arms. He wore khaki shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He chain-smoked whilst texting fast, impatiently. The young Filipina sat a little apart from him, waiting nervously by his side. The text messages came back every few minutes—no jingle from the phone, just a light and a vibration. His leg twitched with adrenalin as he read a new text. He called a number, said a few words, then finished the call abruptly and slammed the phone down onto the table. He pulled off the peak cap and rubbed his sweaty head. His silver ‘short back and sides’ was indented with the outline of the cap. Mann saw his face, mottled and puffy, dominated by bulbous eyes that made him look what he was—mad angry. Mann recognised him straight away. It was the man they called the Colonel—one of the biggest traffickers of women and children in the Philippines.
Amy Tang’s oversized bag banged against her short, stumpy legs as she ran full pelt, arms flailing, down the long school corridor. It was Saturday afternoon and all the pupils had finished morning lessons and were dispersed at either sports matches or common rooms to enjoy the start of the weekend. But not Amy: she was getting a weekend pass. She was getting out. When the exeat list had been read out the previous evening, Amy had not been listening—she never expected her name to be on it. The teacher had had to repeat it:
authorized exeat…friend of her father…shopping…
She didn’t hear the whole message because she was shrieking so loudly.
Now she ran down the corridor, even though it was against school rules to do so. She didn’t care. She was twelve and she had been at boarding school since she was four, and this was the first time she had ever had an exeat. Other girls went to relatives for the weekend but Amy didn’t have any family in the UK. She had plenty
in Hong Kong—on her mother’s side—but she didn’t know much about her father aside from the fact that he was rich and powerful and that he didn’t live with them and that he wouldn’t marry her mother. Sometimes Amy thought he didn’t care about her or her mother at all. But now, finally, there was proof that he did—he had organised an exeat for her, the email said. She was going to be taken to Alton Towers, to the funfair there. Then she was being taken out for dinner and shopping. The other girls were so jealous. For once it was Amy who was going to have the best weekend.
She hadn’t had a difficult time choosing her outfit—she only had one. Her mother had sent it over from Hong Kong: pink skirt and purple leggings, white trainers and a pink hoody. It was her special outfit that she hadn’t got to wear yet. It was a bit tight because her mother always thought she was thinner than she was, but that didn’t bother her today. Nothing bothered her now, she was on an exeat!
Her footsteps echoed as she ran flat-footed down the long, empty corridor, slapping the worn paving slabs with her heavy feet. She barged through the first set of fire doors and passed the paintings by talented fourth-formers. She turned side-on to the second set of doors and pushed her shoulder so hard against them that the right-hand door swung open and ricocheted off the corridor wall. She stopped to realign her bag across her shoulder before running on—past sports trophies and press cuttings that she never featured in. She was arty, they said—but Amy didn’t see any of
her
pictures on the wall.
She ran so fast that when she finally arrived at the man waiting for her at the end of the corridor, her face was scarlet with exertion and excitement and she was breathless. She tried to talk but her braces got in the way and she spat out a breathy hello.
‘Amy?’
Amy stared at him. She didn’t recognise him.
‘Yesh.’
Her tongue protruded like a panting dog on a hot day as she rested her hands on the tops of her knees and bent over to catch her breath.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
She looked up at him. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed—he wasn’t what she had expected at all. He was wearing a suit for a start! He looked like a teacher. This man didn’t look like he was ready to take her to Alton Towers, then shopping.
A group of girls in netball kit with swishing pony-tails and rustling gym skirts passed by on their way to tea. Amy and the man stood back to allow them through. The girls giggled and chatted to one another but none of them acknowledged Amy. It was as if she was invisible to them: the beautiful and the gifted.
‘Let’s be off, shall we?’ The man took her bag and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Let’s get you out of here and have some fun. Your father has insisted on it and we don’t want to disappoint him, do we?’
He steered her towards the side exit. Amy glanced back along the corridor to the glass-panelled oak doors that led to the old library. She could still hear the girls laughing and the kitchen staff putting out the plates ready for
match tea. She could smell the pizzas cooking. She looked back at the man. Something told her not to go with him. Something told her to run as far away from him as she could.
‘Call me Lenny,’ he said, holding the door open for her. ‘We are going to be such good friends.’
‘You got some colour—you look more like a wild man than ever.’ Sergeant Ng was there to meet Mann at Hong Kong’s international airport on Lantau Island. Ng was an old friend and he and Mann had worked together on and off for many years. But it was the first time Mann had seen him up and about for three months, since he’d got shot on the last case they’d worked on. Ng was a dedicated policeman who gave his life to the job and had almost lost it, in the line of duty, on more than one occasion.
‘Yeah, and you’ve lost weight, Ng. Getting shot suits you.’
They shook hands warmly. Mann picked up his bag, slung his jacket over his shoulder and followed Ng through the airport terminal to the car park.
‘Why the hell was I recalled? I was supposed to be having a vacation—just about to go surfing, for Christ’s sake! What was so bad it couldn’t wait a week?’ asked Mann.
Ng shrugged, walking faster than he wanted, to keep up with Mann’s long stride.
‘New Super ordered it. Forget surfing—take up golf. And don’t bullshit me—I know you were working. You couldn’t resist it. Did you find out who’s buying up all the property on the trafficking routes out there? Are the rumours true that there is a new super group muscling in?
‘Yes, and you know who I found? A few old friends. One was the Colonel, that self-styled God of Angeles, and the other was Stevie Ho, our old Triad friend and paid-up member of the Wo Shing Shing. Whatever he’s planning it’s definitely something big. Some major money is involved; Stevie wouldn’t have the clout to do this on his own. He’s trying to set up bases on the island of Mindanao. Most of the trafficked girls come from the poorer villages in the south of the island. He’s after somewhere on the coast, make the trafficking easier and faster—get the girls to the next link in the chain. But he hasn’t just been to the south; he’s putting the frighteners all even so far as Boracay—that’s cocky.’
Ng handed Mann a file. ‘Stevie’s whereabouts in the last six months.’
Mann stopped, flipped it open and scanned it.
‘He’s been a busy boy, our Stevie.’
They drove from the airport across to Hong Kong Island.
‘Where we going?’
‘The bureau got moved to Central.’
‘Nice office?’
‘Not bad. Don’t see you enjoying it for long, though.’
Ng grinned his lopsided grin and chuckled. ‘The new Super hates you.’
‘Who is it anyway? Last I heard it was still to be decided. I hope it’s the acting super.’
‘It’s not—it’s Peter Wong.’
‘Shit! He really does hate me!’
‘Yeah. Told you. But as they say—
it is better to know
one’s enemies
…’
‘Cut the crap, Confucius.’
They alighted on the seventh floor, straight into the reception area for the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau. A uniformed officer behind a desk checked their ID. Ng punched in a door code and led the way through to the department. Left, right, and left again down the rubber-studded corridors, past brand-new offices with polythene still on the door handles. The whole place smelt plastic. In the centre it opened out into a glass and chrome area with a rectangular bank of computers, surrounded by a glass screen. About fifty police officers were working at PCs and workstations. Smaller offices fanned out from the open-plan area.
‘Can’t they afford doors?’
Mann didn’t much care for the new premises—he loved the oak and brass of the old headquarters. They walked around to the far side and into one of the screened spaces—loosely termed an office. Inside were twelve workstations and PCs back to back, all occupied. He didn’t recognise any of the people there, then he saw someone he
did
know as the slight frame of Detective Li, aka Shrimp, walked in. An expert in
computers and martial arts, the young man was also an experimental dresser. Today, a purple silk shirt was tucked neatly into drainpipe trousers. He beamed up from a face that looked as if it had been scrubbed with a wire brush. He shook Mann’s hand with an extra-firm grip that he’d been practising since the last time Mann had caught him out and nearly crushed his hand.
‘How’s it going, Shrimp?’
‘Awesome, boss.’
‘Huh!’ Ng rolled his eyes. ‘He’s lucky to still be here. He’s in trouble for letting you lead him astray.’
‘Is that true, Shrimp?’ Mann said as the three moved to the far end of the office so that they would not be overheard.
Shrimp shrugged and shook his head as he excused himself for a minute and walked away to fetch something.
Ng made sure no one was listening. ‘You nearly got him suspended after he was asked what he was doing on Cheung Chau when the man under investigation mysteriously disappeared.’
‘It was a tragic accident. He couldn’t swim—we weren’t to know that.’ A smile flickered up the side of Mann’s face.
Ng chuckled. ‘Yeah, justice comes in many forms.’
Shrimp reappeared and handed Mann a stack of mail.
‘You missed David White’s leaving do,’ said Ng.
‘Any good?’ Mann said as he scanned the mail then threw it all into a waste basket.
‘We had a great time…he didn’t show.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘He’s gone to the UK. He left a message for you.’ Ng pulled out a note from his jacket pocket.
Mann smiled to himself as he read it—just like David White to do a runner before his own party. He never did do what people expected.
JM
I won’t be around to bail you out so try and keep
out of trouble and don’t get yourself killed. Remember what I said—if you cross the line too often you can’t come back from the other side. Have given the cat to your mother. Watch who you trust, Mann. Hope to see you in London one day. Got to go—got to buy some slippers, apparently there’s a rush on.DW
Ng came over and patted Mann on the back. He had that look on his face that Mann recognised: there was an in-joke going around and he was the butt of it.
‘You better not keep the new Super waiting.’ He grinned and glanced towards the neighbouring office. ‘We took bets in the department on how long before you get transferred again. That’s why we haven’t allocated you a desk.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ Mann put on his jacket and slipped his phone into the pocket.
‘He asked to see you the minute you got here,’ said Shrimp.
‘And there he is!’ Mann gestured towards a small
figure in uniform, sitting behind a large desk. ‘All right, I’m gone.’
‘Let us know which intersection you get,’ Ng called after him. ‘We’ll come and wave at you.’
Mann gave Ng the finger and walked out.
5‘You wanted to see me, sir?’
The newly appointed Superintendent was young for the post—in his mid-forties. He was ten years older than Mann but he looked a lot more. Mann doubted whether he had ever looked healthy. He was an exam-taker—a pen-pusher. He had spent too many hours swotting in bad light.
Wong was a slight man with a round face that was dominated by square chrome-rimmed glasses. His hair was pressed flat with the straightest side parting and a touch of psoriasis. He tugged at his cuffs now to hide the eczema around his wrists where the shirt-sleeves rubbed. His desk was super neat, just a desk-tidy full of sharpened pencils and highlighters and a photo of his wife and two kids in a dark wood frame. They all looked just like him. It was a lucky promotion for him. Mann could see he was still savouring it. When Wong finally spoke he didn’t look at Mann, but carried on filling in the form in front of him.
‘Don’t think for one minute I want you here,
Inspector Mann,’ he said, finally closing the file and pushing it to one side. ‘You’re a trouble-maker, a rule-breaker. In the end you make it hard for all of us. If I had a choice I wouldn’t have men like you in the force at all.’He replaced his pen back in the desk-tidy, sat back in his chair and stared hard at Mann. Mann could out-stare most men—a thing he’d learned to perfect when dealing with triads.
‘But…it seems I have no choice.’ Wong was forced to blink, but made up for it by smiling sarcastically. ‘You have made yourself some influential friends. Your assistance has been
especially
requested. That is why I had you recalled from vacation. You are to help in a kidnap case.’‘Find someone else. I’m investigating a new trafficking ring. I can’t afford to take time out.’ Wong was going to drive Mann mad. He paused more than he spoke. Mann hadn’t the time for it. He took a deep breath to let his temper subside. He would play ball, then he would get out and do his own thing—like he always did.
‘As I said, you have been especially requested. Your
friend—
CK Leung—has insisted that you help in the investigation into his daughter’s kidnap.’Mann felt the hair bristle on the back of his neck. ‘He’s no friend of mine.’
‘Whatever you think of him, Inspector Mann, he is one of Hong Kong’s wealthiest citizens.’
‘Wealthiest triads, you mean. They look after their own. Let them sort it out between themselves.’
‘He happens to be the Dragon Head of the Wo Shing Shing triad society, yes, but he deserves our help like anyone else. Anyway, we have no choice in the matter. It is not a situation any of us like.’
‘The only daughter of his that I know is Victoria Chan, and she’s a grown woman.’
‘Amy Tang is his daughter by a girlfriend. She has been kidnapped—snatched from a boarding school in England. A ransom was paid two weeks ago but she hasn’t been returned. She’s the third wealthy Chinese kid to be kidnapped in the last two months in the UK.’
‘The others were returned unharmed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did they take her in daylight? Were there any witnesses?’
‘It was during the day. Some children saw her with a man—but their descriptions aren’t good.’
‘He doesn’t know that. People saw him. That’s the point. He doesn’t intend to free her. This is not to do with money—not with
this
child. They’re making a statement. It’s to do with teaching CK a lesson. It’s triad business. Like I said—let them sort it out amongst themselves.’‘We don’t have that option. You are from England, isn’t that right?’
Mann could see he’d been building up to this.
‘I’m from Hong Kong. But my mother is British. I was educated in the UK.’
‘Well, we are sending you home.’ Wong laughed like a mountain goat falling off a cliff. Mann repressed a
shudder. ‘The Metropolitan police have undercover agents in Chinatown but haven’t come up with anything so far. You are to go to London and help with the investigation.’‘Send someone else.’
‘It has to be you.’
Mann kept his eyes fixed on Wong whilst he dug furtively into his pocket. He found what he was looking for, flicked open his phone and pressed the ‘record’ button.
‘In real terms I have nothing to lose by refusing. You intend to have me transferred anyway, it’s already common knowledge. I want some reassurance if I agree to go. So, here’s the deal…I go to London for you and, in return, I get to stay in the OCTB…for at least the next two years.’
Wong fiddled with his glasses, pulled at his cuffs.
‘All right.’
‘All right what?’
Wong sighed with annoyance.
‘If you go to London you can keep your job at the OCTB for the next two years. When will you be ready to leave?’
‘I need a quick shave and a shower. I’ll catch the overnight flight tonight.’
Wong returned to filling in his form with a grunt. Mann walked back to the office where Shrimp was hovering to hear the outcome and Ng was writing up a report. Ng swivelled around on his chair. He rolled his eyes towards Wong’s office. The Superintendent could be seen tidying his desk.
‘Where have you been transferred to? Tibet? Outer Mongolia?’
‘London.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Temporarily—to help with an investigation.’
‘Awesome. Can we all go?’ Shrimp’s face lit up. ‘London is supposed to be
the
place to get vintage clothes—there’s Carnaby Street, Petticoat Lane, Brick Lane even.’Mann held up his hand to stop him as he was gathering speed. He shook his head. ‘Nice try, Shrimp, but afraid not. The only Lane you’ll be seeing is the Lane Crawford shop in Causeway Bay.’
‘Why London?’ asked Ng.
‘Did you know CK Leung had more than one child?’
Ng shook his head.
‘Well, he does—a twelve-year-old daughter at school in England, and she’s been kidnapped.’
‘Why you?’
‘Special request.’
Ng wasn’t impressed. ‘Be careful, Mann. Remember:
Deep doubts, deep wisdom, small doubts, small wisdom.
CK has a plan and evidently you feature in it. If they kill that little girl, God help them. If he blames you—God help you.’‘I know. But it will be worth it to me if I get it right. I have Wong’s assurance…’ he reached into his pocket for his phone, pulled it out and pressed
play.
Wong’s voice came over, muffled but it was definitely him. ‘This says that I can stay in the department.’Ng rolled his eyes and sighed as he took his wallet out from his pocket and begrudgingly handed Shrimp a hundred-dollar bill.
Shrimp took it from him and grinned. ‘That the way the mop flops, old man—nothing personal.’ He turned to Mann and waved the bill in the air. ‘I bet on you staying, he bet you’d be kicked out. But what about the investigation into the new sex-trafficking ring, Boss? What’s going to happen to that?’
‘I don’t think these events are all random. A spate of wealthy abductions—someone’s raising funds and not just anyone—has to be someone with the clout behind them. We know CK has control of the largest trafficking ring. We know there’s a new boy in town. The other kids were kidnapped purely for money, funds. CK’s daughter’s abduction is more than that. Someone is forcing him to show his hand. Carry on the investigation this side—get out on the streets and listen to the talk. Keep tabs on Stevie Ho. We need to find out who he’s working for—is his allegiance still to CK, or is he with the new boys? According to that list you gave me, Ng, Stevie was in London before he went to the Philippines. He must have had business there. If he’s still working for CK he would have brokered the ransom. Why did they choose this child now? It isn’t by accident and they haven’t got what they wanted from CK. My hunch is that this kidnapping has something to do with Stevie increasing his trafficking routes. That means, courtesy of my new friend, Superintendent Wong, my investigation just
went global.’ Mann waved and smiled at Wong through the glass. The Superintendent scowled back at him. Mann laughed. ‘I think I’m going to like this open-plan arrangement.’