FEARLESS FINN'S MURDEROUS ADVENTURE (40 page)

I didn’t see our driver until we stopped to eat take-away meals; she’s been hidden by the curtains behind the front seats. She’s about my age, with raven-black hair that’s tied behind her head with a red bandanna, and she’s wearing khaki army fatigues. Her smile is a blaze of white teeth that she’s flashing at Finn whenever she catches his eye. Finn is an attractive man…and it seems that he’s just as appealing to Asian eyes as he is to mine.

Pushing aside the remnants of our meals, Smiles reached through the curtains and grabbed a road map of southern China from beside the driver’s seat. She showed us where we are, where we’ve come from, and where we’re going. Our next stop is Wuhan, almost three hundred kilometres away. Finn’s satisfied with what she showed us, and Sui-Lin nodded in agreement before we set off again.

Sui-Lin told me that when she was in the take-away she overheard the well-dressed man arguing with Tight Trousers. Tight Trousers said, ‘It’s not our fault that the damn immigration manager’s been arrested.’ She also thinks they should be paid for the ‘great risks’ they’re taking, and she can’t understand why they’re going to all this trouble for a prostitute.

“I’ll snap her pretty neck if she keeps talking in such a disrespectful way,” said Sui-Lin, as she gestured exactly how she’d do it. I have no doubt that Sui-Lin means what she says. If I were the paranoid jealous type, I might think about trying the same move if Smiles and Tight Trousers keep up their flirting with Finn. At least Smiles is driving now, and Finn doesn’t seem to notice Tight Trousers brushing up against him – flicking her hair and batting her eyelashes like a Hollywood starlet….

It’s becoming difficult to keep Nakita Sylvina occupied while we’re crammed in here. Sui-Lin is trying to give her a language lesson, but Nakita Sylvina can’t concentrate. For the past two days she’s been whispering to her dolls, ‘Soon, any minute now, I will introduce you to my mother, Nataliya Yelena.’ The poor child is so looking forward to seeing her mother, and like so many Russian children, she never complains.

I must’ve fallen asleep. We’re parked inside a warehouse with the sun shining in through large open doors; I don’t remember getting here.

I’d like to have a shower before we take off again; washing my hair for the first time in days without the motion of a fast-moving train will be heavenly. I better call Nakita Sylvina into the bathroom to wash her hair too.

Sui-Lin and Finn will need to have their showers, and I don’t know how long the hot water will last, so I better make it fast. Of course…I just remembered, Finn doesn’t bother with ‘sloppy’ showers. He fills a bucket with water and throws it over himself – fully dressed. Not exactly a plunge in icy water, but not bad.

———

The old man’s just arrived at the warehouse in his small van. Anna’s having a shower before we head off, and Sui-Lin’s moving our luggage from the van into the motor home.

I’m going to lay it on the line for our smartly dressed Chinaman, who hasn’t even bothered to tell us his name. I think he’ll understand a few carefully selected phrases not often employed by diplomats.

“Right, it’s time to piss now or get off the pot. We need to get to the border, and fast like. Put up or shut up. Do you understand?”

Fancy pants blushed and mumbled something about going to fetch the boss. Stupid me, I should’ve known better – the sharply dressed one giving all the orders is the gofer. For a moment, I was worried that the driver with the red bandanna, or the trashy tart who gave me tea – who’s been getting up Sui-Lin’s nose – is the boss. The tart reminds me of a black widow spider trying to entice prey to her web…and I’m no insect.

The old van man is the boss, and he’s philosophical about the whole thing. “If it had not been for the unfortunate arrest of the District Immigration Supervisor, we would not be in this shameful situation…and unable to fulfil our promise to the Americans.”

That confused the hell out of me. Then it struck me – they weren’t sent by Uncle Sui! I don’t know why, but I decided not to lie to him. I told him our plans and where we’re heading.

He reached into his brown leather satchel and handed me three sets of vehicle number plates, and three registration books with the same chassis and engine numbers. Whoever these people are – or whoever sent them – they’re no amateurs.

“Take the motor home and leave it wherever you can…or burn it if you need to. And good luck,” said the old boss man. He gathered his Snakeheads into the small van and drove out the large double doors of the warehouse.

Sui-Lin volunteered to drive, in case we’re stopped by traffic police. I’m glad of the chance to relax; I need to work out a way to explain that we’ll be surrendering ourselves to the Chinese authorities tonight…if we’re lucky. FLEC isn’t exactly the police or immigration, still, it’ll take some leap of faith to hand ourselves over and be voluntarily confined on board one of their deep sea cutters.

———

It’s only three forty-five p.m., but the streets of the small towns we’re passing through are already deserted and the shops are closing their doors. Finn told Sui-Lin to pull in at the next petrol station we see, so we can fill the tank with diesel.

As we crossed over a bridge on the outskirts of a village, I spotted diesel pumps outside a farmers’ cooperative. The pumps are almost hidden behind a row of parked lorries and trailers loaded with freshly felled fir trees.

We pulled in and saw an old woman in a blue skirt, blouse and cap closing the pumps. She was shooing us away…until Finn threw a fistful of renminbi out the window. The old lady’s torn between stooping down to gather the notes before they blow away in the wind and closing the last pump. She’s afraid that we’ll report her to someone in authority, but she chose the money. Reluctantly, she allowed us to fill the tank and two ten-gallon drums with diesel, and to buy two torches and two horse blankets.

———

We stopped to stretch our legs and pick some fruit from the trees on the side of the road. When we piled back in the motor home I offered to take over the driving, but Sui-Lin said she’ll keep at it. So I’m in the front passenger seat, and Anna and Nakita Sylvina are in the back.

We’re driving along an inter-city route towards Guangzhou. The terrain is rolling hills with mountains in the distance, and lakes around every bend in the road. If it weren’t for the subtropical vegetation – and temperature to match – I might think we’re travelling through County Leitrim in Ireland.

Doctor Sun Yat-sen, a great leader of the Chinese Revolution, is honoured somewhere
en route
to the coast. It’s a shame, but there’s no time for visiting statues or memorial halls…no matter how venerated the dignitary, or how world-changing his achievements.

Anna’s thrown together a three-course meal from unlabelled tins, two bags of rice, unfamiliar vegetables, and the fruit we picked. She cooked it all on a silly little stove, tearing along at a hundred kilometres per hour. There’s no denying that she comes from good Viking stock.

Sui-Lin’s a trouper; she’s eating as she drives. After she drops us somewhere on the longest continuous coastline in China, she’ll turn around and head for Guangzhou Baiyun International Airport. She’ll ditch the vehicle, catch a flight to Shanghai, and then travel back to Hong Kong.

The rest of us will steal a fishing boat under cover of dark, head fifteen nautical miles out to sea, and wait to be intercepted by FLEC
Vessel Number 7
. That’s the plan so. Of course, you know how plans do go wrong…very wrong. If we’re intercepted by any other FLEC vessel, Nakita Sylvina will be the same age as me before she leaves China, Anna will almost be an old woman the next time she sees Sweden, and I’ll probably never see my home again.

———

Finn’s satellite phone sprang to life. He answered it and began laughing out loud, then he gave us the thumbs up. “Yes, yes….Yes, of course….Yeah, got it, yes,” he must’ve repeated a dozen times before he hung up.

He grabbed a pen and paper, wrote down a series of numbers and asked Sui-Lin to pass him the map of Guangdong Province. With the map spread out on the floor, Finn laid his pocket compass over it and checked the figures he’d written down.

“There, there it is, look! Yanshiwei fishing village. Perfect,” he declared, jabbing his finger on the map where the multicoloured area meets solid blue.

He marked two ‘X’s on the map, returned it to Sui-Lin, and asked her if she needs a break. She’s been driving for eight hours and only stopped twice – for diesel, and when we picked fruit from the trees. I think she must need a break.

Sui-Lin pulled over, stood up and stretched, and Finn took her place in the driver’s seat. She fell exhausted on to the sofa and was asleep before I could get to her with a plate of lychees peeled by Nakita Sylvina.

Nakita Sylvina’s finally asked me when she’ll see her mummy. It’s the first time since we crossed the border into China that she’s asked. I told her the truth, of course, and the truth is that I have no idea…but I hope it will be soon.

Finn heard us talking and called out for Nakita Sylvina to join him in the front passenger seat. I sat close by so I can hear what he’s saying and translate.

How he’s arranged what’s going to happen is beyond me. A ship from China Fisheries Law Enforcement Command is going to meet us off the coast and take us to the South China Sea, near Macau. Then we’ll transfer to a yacht and be dropped somewhere called Sea Ranch on Lantau Island, where we’ll be met by Nataliya Yelena and Vincenzo.

When I finished translating everything Finn said, Nakita Sylvina squealed with delight and hugged Finn so hard that he lost control of the motor home for a moment. Nakita Sylvina’s squeal was such a joy to hear…even though it caused the weary Sui-Lin to turn in her sleep.

———

I didn’t intend to tell the girls exactly what’s planned, in case we’re stopped and questioned by the authorities. But Nakita Sylvina’s been so patient for so long, I think she deserved to know.

Anna’s trying to convince her to sleep for a little while, promising her it will make the journey seem shorter. We could all do with some sleep…it’s going to be a long night.

If we’re going to make our rendezvous in the South China Sea, there’s a lot that needs to happen before one a.m. I need to locate a fishing boat, board Anna and Nakita Sylvina, steal the boat, and slip unnoticed out of port.

Fortunately, I know a bit about fishing boats – albeit learnt ten thousand kilometres away in the Atlantic Ocean. My
uncle
used to take me out from Galway Bay on his hooker, to collect lobster pots off the coast of Connemara. He wasn’t really my uncle of course, but he’d been good to Mam, and I liked him for that. It was my uncle John who taught me to ‘always carry a wee compass in your pants lad.’ Good advice, so it was.

———

Anna brought me a tea and put on a fresh pot of coffee; I think the aroma of the coffee woke Sui-Lin. She said she’ll take over the driving again after she’s had a coffee and some lychees.

The sleep did Sui-Lin good; she’s really flooring it. She put the pedal to the metal – as our American friends so graphically describe it.

As soon as we smelled the sea, Sui-Lin turned off the main road. We followed a small secondary road for about twenty minutes and fetched up in Yanshiwei fishing village. The village is lit only by a watery moon, and the alleys between the single-storey cottages are bedecked with fishing nets.

Sui-Lin cut the engine and freewheeled to the water’s edge. Apart from the sound of the sea lapping the harbour wall, the occasional yapping dog, and heavy human snoring, the village is silent.

I climbed down a rickety bamboo scaffold to the deck of a thirty foot double-planked trawler. The cabin door is unlocked, and by the light of my torch I can see a key in the ignition. The fuel gauge shows quarter full; we’ve already used one of our drums of diesel, so I’ll either have to find diesel or steal a different boat.

I hear soft steps behind me. It’s Anna and Sui-Lin, coming to see if they can help. “Yes, look for diesel,” I whispered.

“Oh, this stuff you mean?” Anna whispered, drumming her fingers on top of a forty-gallon barrel reeking of diesel.

We managed to up-end the barrel and pour most of the diesel into the fuel valve on deck. The girls had the foresight to remove their shoes and roll up their jeans, but my boots are soaked in diesel. Fortunately, I know – from experience with Mac – that diesel is hard to ignite. It’s useless for making a Molotov cocktail, but effective when set off by a potassium nitrate and sugar explosion.

Anna wrapped a sleeping Nakita Sylvina in a horse blanket and took her to the wheelhouse while I collected our things. Sui-Lin’s going to start the engine of the motor home at precisely the same time as I hit the starter on the boat – to disguise the sound of two engines.

After hasty goodbyes, Anna and I scrambled back on board and waved to Sui-Lin. On the third flash of my torch, Sui-Lin and I started our motors in perfect harmony. We’re on our way. Looking back towards the harbour, all I can see are the rear lights of the motor home as it disappears from sight.

With Anna at the wheel, I went below deck to examine the engine. It’s a British Leyland diesel, the same engine that keeps London buses on the road for twenty years. The life rafts are British Navy issue, and certified good for another two years. Whatever you say about the Brits, they once led the engineering world. How these two examples of British craftsmanship ended up in a small fishing boat on a remote stretch of the Chinese coast is anyone’s guess, but I’m happy to find them. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do if a Chinese-manufactured engine broke down, nor would I be able to decipher the instructions on a Chinese life raft. Everything seems in order down below.

Peeping up at Anna, I’m so in awe of this descendant of the pillaging Norse. She’s standing straight, holding the wheel correctly in the ten-two position. She’s concentrating so much on the sea ahead that she didn’t notice me creeping up behind her before I plunged my hands inside her T-shirt.

“
Läcker
!”