The Trophy Taker (19 page)

Ng and Johnny Mann took the ferry across the harbour to Kowloon. The evening rush was just beginning to slow down. It gave them time to talk and a change of scenery to do it in.

‘I get this niggle in my head about the Butcher, Ng. The inconsistencies in his profile just don’t add up. No clear idea of age … only that he has to be over forty. In some ways he seems very organised. He plans these girls’ abductions very well. He waits for his chosen victim. That would indicate someone of a high level of intelligence. Someone sociable and probably well-liked. He might even have a family. He could easily be a prominent member of society. But then he is disposing of the bodies in a hurry. In a careless and disorganised manner. That would indicate a loner, a man of low intelligence. Why take all that care to kill them and then leave their remains around for us to find?’

‘Nothing is clear. This butcher has one knife, but many sides to his blade.’

They disembarked and headed up Nathan Road, before turning left onto Peking Road. The road opened out to an area swarming with gap-year kids and young locals. Along the street was an Irish pub, two Aussie bars, a Kiwi place and a steak house, all within spitting distance of each other and all nestled between traditional Chinese girly bars. In front of them was the largest and most notorious of Hong Kong’s backpacker hostels. It was an area where young kids were constantly hassled to part with their money. After a few drinks they could buy a fake watch, sign up for a trip to China and get laid – all by the same person.

Shrimp was waiting for them. He looked like an extra from
Miami Vice
today. Mann sent Ng on to O’Reilly’s to get what he could from the local Irish expats about Bernadette. They would meet again in forty minutes and work their way up the street in tandem.

Mann and Shrimp crossed the street and pushed through the swing doors of The Western – a saloonthemed pub with sawdust on the floor, dead animals on the walls and an impressive collection of spurs.

A rotund middle-aged Filipina named Annie was in the process of collecting glasses as they swung through the doors.

‘Watcha, Johnny,’ she drawled, and nodded in the direction of Shrimp.

‘How you doing, Annie? Meet my colleague – Li.’

Her eyes lit up and she gave a wet-lipped smile. ‘Hello, handsome.’

Li stood rigid, panic-stricken, gave his girly giggle and looked to Mann for help. Mann grinned and wagged his finger at her.

‘The older you get, the worse you become, Annie.’

She laughed like a full-strength smoker who can never quite clear her throat, pushed her Stetson to the back of her head and pulled down her fringed waistcoat. Then, swinging her hips into action, she shimmied over. ‘Always had a big appetite for life – you know me, Johnny, can’t seem to grow out of it …’

Mann watched her and marvelled how she still had
it.
She’d been wearing the same cowgirl suit for at least twenty years. When she’d first put it on the gun belt had hung at a lazy slant from her nubile hips; now it was wedged around her midriff. But she moved those hips like a belly dancer. She was still a very sexy woman.

‘You got a licence for those?’ He leaned forward to kiss her cheek and pointed to the two antique guns she had in the belt. She gave a deep-throated giggle and reached up to kiss him. She loved the same old joke, and Mann always obliged her.

She put her hands up in the surrender position. ‘You just gonna have to take me in, Johnny. You’ll need cuffs, though,’ she purred. ‘I should warn you – I aint’ goin’ quietly.’ She reached out and ran her finger down the buttons of Li’s pink shirt. ‘I might promise to behave for your friend, though – just keep it to a whimper and it’ll be his choice – with or without the cuffs.’

Li blushed scarlet. Annie laughed and coughed at the same time.

‘Same old Annie. The only way you know how to behave is badly. Get me a drink and I’ll think about it. He could do with educating.’ Mann winked at Li, who hadn’t understood all the patter, but he’d seen the exchange of looks and it was enough to petrify him.

Annie winked back as she went behind the bar to pour their drinks – two vodka tonics. She turned back from the optics, set their drinks down, and leaned over the bar, squeezing her breasts into an impressive cleavage.

‘You’re looking good, Annie.’

‘Thank you, Johnny,’ she said, keeping her eyes on Li and rocking from one cowboy boot to the other.

‘How’s it all been going?’ Mann asked.

‘Dandy. Just dandy. Never better.’

‘Yes, and really?’

‘Crap.’ She turned back to Mann and the smile dis appeared.

‘Don’t worry, it’ll pick up now. The high season is on its way. It already feels cooler out there. People will be pouring in here soon.’

‘I hope so. I hope so. Ain’t gonna afford bullets for these here guns else …’ She patted her holster and gave a wry smile. ‘But … as much as I love to see the bestlookin’ cop in Hong Kong – you’re here on business, aren’t ya? What is it you want to know?’

‘I wanted to ask you something about the old days.’

She looked perplexed. ‘What old days?’

‘Before you took this bar on.’

‘Huh! You must be jokin’, Johnny. I can’t remember that far back.’

‘I mean when you were a working girl, Annie.’

‘Ahhhhh. I see! Okay, what do you wanna know, apart from the fact I was the best there was.’ She ran her tongue around her lips and grinned at Li, who shuffled nervously over to study the spurs collection.

‘Anyone that was around
then
, who’s
still
around? Anyone who was a regular of yours?’

‘A couple. Of course, I don’t know whether they’re still into the same action. But then it’s a hard habit to break – so I should think they are. Let me see … I haven’t seen him in a while, but there’s James Dudley-Smythe. He was a really good customer of mine. Liked his booze a bit too much, and most of the time he needed help to get anything going. You had to know how to handle him, though – give him half a chance and he could get nasty. He had quite a collection of mean-lookin’ whips in that cupboard of his. But … if you knew how … he was easy. Some of the girls used to get him drunk first. I used to insist that
he
wore the handcuffs.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘I had several clients who came regularly from abroad. I still see them around town. They look older now, of course. I remember their faces, and certain other things about them, but not their names.’

‘Any more locals?’

She shook her head. ‘Can’t think of any.’

‘Any word on the street about someone getting nasty?
Really
nasty?’

She shook her head. ‘No one’s spoken to me about it. If one of the girls had been hurt I would have been told. Hang on a minute! There was some talk recently. I heard these young lads talkin’ in here. They’d been buyin’ films off a stall on Nathan Road. One of them got taken round the back and shown weird stuff. Apparently there are some dodgy films going around.’

‘What kind of films?’

‘Not your usual. This young lad was shaken up. He’d only seen a clip. He said it looked like a snuff movie.’

Mann, Ng and Li were stood in room 210, telling David White about the film Annie had mentioned. The Superintendent looked seriously in need of sleep. His eyes were rubbed sore, his face was ashen and he was irritable as hell.

‘It was probably some twenty-year-old spotty-faced virgin who mistook a blow job for death by suffocation. Whatever it was, you didn’t find evidence of it, did you? You didn’t find evidence of any snuff movies for sale? I don’t think we’ll find that these films have anything to do with the death of our women. Now, let’s get back to what we know. Any leads on Bernadette?’

‘She went to the area, mainly to O’Reilly’s, about once a fortnight – on her night off. She picked up men sometimes. I was given the names of a few people that she used to talk to. I’ve already contacted a couple on the list. I’m waiting to hear back from the others,’ said Ng.

‘Good. Okay.’

The Superintendent sat back in his chair and rubbed his head. ‘How many pig farms have been located?’

Li flicked through his notes.

‘There are two hundred and sixty-five pig farms, sir. Mainly concentrated in the northern New Territories. They are small, family-run concerns.’

‘The government’s trying to phase them out. Apparently they’re unhygienic and they are taking up land that could be used for residential development,’ added Ng.

‘The samples from the victims? Does it narrow it down at all?’

‘We checked the rope analysis and the bags that the victims were found in. Both are common to ninety per cent of the farms,’ said Ng.

Superintendent White laid the photos of the victims out on his desk. ‘Tell me about the torture. Is it always the same?’

‘No, it isn’t. Two were electrocuted. One was burnt with cigarettes. One was branded. Excessive bruising, small cuts,’ said Mann. ‘It varies a lot. He’s not sticking to the rules here – most serial killers have their trademark way of torturing – it’s part of their fantasy. He doesn’t.’

‘And the way they died?’

‘Asphyxiation by various means. Some with the aid of a ligature, some not.’

‘Other similarities?’

‘He gave heroin to at least two of the victims. Maybe to numb the pain? But why would he care?’ mused Ng.

‘Maybe because he could do worse things to them if they couldn’t feel it – make it last,’ answered the Superintendent. ‘Or maybe just to keep them quiet while he held them hostage. Some showed signs of substantial weight loss, didn’t they? He obviously kept some of them hidden for a long time.’

‘Yes, and I think he needed help to do that. I think we’re looking for a double act.’

Mann paused as an officer knocked and stepped inside. ‘What is it?’

‘We’ve found some more, sir.’

‘Let’s go. Shrimp … Ng? Let’s move. The helicopter’s waiting. The SOCOs are on the way, they will be there before us.’

The helicopter circled over Headquarters before heading north. It would take them thirty minutes to fly, two hours to drive. Mann had an anxious feeling deep in his stomach. He didn’t mind helicopters. It was the thought of what they’d find at the other end. He sat back and let the rush of cool air clear his head, watching the scenery unfolding beneath him.

They crossed the harbour. Large freight ships and small fishing vessels dotted the water below – gleaming in the sunshine. They passed over Tsim Sha Tsui and the banks and multinational corporations. Past the commercial districts and over the housing estates and market streets of Kowloon and Mong Kok. As they flew over the New Territories, villages, walled cities and patchwork rice fields embroidered the ground beneath them. From the ultimate in modern design in the business district they came to oxen tilling the rice fields. It wasn’t long before they were flying over a country park and a vast area of water came into view. It was Plover Cove. Not actually a cove, but a reservoir, manmade with water brought from China.

The place was quiet – as you’d expect on a weekday – no families, no kids – tranquil. The water sat idyllic and inviting below. The area was green and lush. The pilot pointed out some activity to Mann. It was on the edge of a wooded area to the right, below them. Mann could see the SOCOs at work. Two police vans and a squad car were there. About ten policemen were standing around outside the cordoned area; just three white-suited SOCOs inside. The less people who walked over the actual crime scene, the better.

Mann indicated to the pilot where he wanted to set the helicopter down. They landed twenty metres outside the exclusion zone. Mann, Ng and Li stepped out onto a flat grassed area outside the wooded thicket that stretched between the reservoir and the road. They made their way across to the police vans and were met by Sergeant Lok. Mann knew Lok by reputation, although he’d never met him before. He held the honor of the most corrupt policeman ever to get away with it in the New Territories.

‘Did this couple find the bag?’

Mann pointed to a stupefied-looking couple in their early thirties. Wearing matching tracksuits, they sat huddled together on the grass, next to their matching bicycles.

Lok nodded, Mann introduced himself to them. ‘You were looking for a picnic spot?’

‘Yes.’ The man answered for them both. ‘We parked our bikes and were looking for somewhere to sit. We smelt it first. Then the noise – a droning. We went to investigate and saw the bag resting at the bottom of the tree. It was partially hidden by twigs and debris and covered in flies. As we approached we saw the arm hanging out.’

The woman began to cry.

Mann turned back to Lok. ‘How far away is the road from here?’ He looked behind them away from the thickest part of the wood.

‘Three hundred metres.’

‘Does the road afford good access?’

‘Yes.’

‘So how close could someone get to this spot before dumping the body?’

‘I would say twenty metres.’

‘It’s still quite a way to carry it. Look for signs of dragging, Shrimp. Look for tyre marks.’

‘Yes, boss.’

Mann looked over towards where the white-suited SOCOs were photographing the remains and searching in a grid system.

‘Is Daniel Lu in charge?’ he asked. For a minute, Mann couldn’t see the man he was looking for. Then he came into view. Daniel Lu stood up, paused in his searching, and acknowledged Mann. Mann had worked with him on many occasions. He was a brilliant Crime Scene Investigator. He was scrupulous and meticulous and found clues when others gave up.

Mann inched closer to the red and white exclusion tape. His eyes focused on the bag and all else in his vision fell away.

‘Do you want to get a little nearer?’

By the time the question was asked, Mann had already done so. He had crossed the exclusion zone. He was contaminating the crime scene. He walked straight across to the bag.

Ng shouted to him.

Daniel Lu looked up as Mann approached.

‘Mann … what the fuck! Get the hell away! Get back!’

Mann didn’t hear him – he just kept walking. His eyes were focused on the bag – nothing else mattered. Like walking into a huge mirror and having it shatter around him, piece by piece his world disintegrated – until all that was left was the arm hanging from the bag. The arm that was wearing Helen’s bracelet.