“I think this will help.”
His face set in a faint smile, the old man was holding up a key.
It was the key to the small hatch where they'd found the old man hiding earlier. In fact he'd been in the process of unlocking it when they'd disturbed him.
“I told a little lie actually. You see that old building where you found me was once my house. I was trying to get back in through the goods hatch to see if they'd left anything useful. Come on let's see if we can open it from the inside.”
They soon found the hatch behind a pile of discarded timber and rubbish. Ling took the key and put it into the lock. To their great relief, it opened easily. Surprised, he tentatively pushed and the hatch opened without a sound.
Peering cautiously into the darkness, Ling could not see or hear any sign of the guards. He looked back at the others, gave the thumbs up and eased himself through. Alex squeezed out next, followed by the old man, who carefully relocked the little door before piling some broken boxwood and some discarded sacking in front of it.
“Follow me,” the old man whispered. They obeyed without question as he trotted across the rubble to vanish in the labyrinth of decrepit buildings. The old Chinese eventually stopped.
“On you go gentlemen,” he panted, catching his breath. “At the end of this lane, turn right and you're back on the main waterfront. I'm going home - I've had enough excitement for one night.”
Alex thanked the old man.
“We're going to have to go back in there because our job is to destroy those weapons. Will you help us?”
The old man smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Alex's arm. “You can count on me.” He looked across the road. “You see that café?” he pointed. “You can leave a message there when you need me. Just say you want to talk with old Ming-Ho,” he smiled. “Get away now. Your other friend needs you.”
They thanked him again and left, heading at a jog to David's apartment. Alex shuddered at the thought of David being in the clutches of a Syndicate “Enforcer”. He knew their ruthless regime showed no quarter to those who challenged or betrayed their objectives.
4
Three Syndicate executives sat facing each other at the boardroom table; the older man spoke.
“Thank you gentlemen for attending at such short notice. But we have a problem.” He looked strained; his eyes pierced into the listeners. “It has been brought to my notice that an employee at the Hong Kong Harbours Land Department has been trying to investigate our warehouse site on the old docks.” He looked across to the picture window of the boardroom momentarily and then turned dramatically to face the others. “With the shipment due to leave tomorrow, we cannot afford any problems. So I want him interrogated. I want to know what he discovered, if anything, and why he was looking.” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Who can handle this immediately?”
One of the others raised a hand.
“I can do that.” he smiled enthusiastically, trying to ingratiate himself. “I've been sorting out that other little matter with the double dealing heroin peddler. So I still have the two men on loan from our Philippine warlord ally. OK?” He looked around for approval or otherwise.
There were no objections.
“Good. Then see that it's resolved within the next twelve hours,” the leader ordered. “The other matter is the report of a treasure ship out in Manila Bay. Now we've all heard these stories over the years but recently there's been a revival of divers searching the hundreds of wrecks out there. My recommendation is to watch and wait as usual but keep a sharp lookout. If something concrete develops, then we report to our controller and not before. False alarms are not welcomed either. Understood everybody?”
One of the men spoke out hesitantly.
“One of my boat people reported two men looking for wreck fishing, just a couple of days ago. I'll double check it.”
“Good,” replied the group leader. “Anything like that must be reported to me at once. Is that clear?”
w
Alex and Ling stopped about one hundred metres from the apartment block and scanned the immediate area. There was nothing obvious to be seen from the outside. Alex dialled David's number on his mobile as they hurried towards the building; there was still no reply. They paused again for a few moments, satisfying themselves that it was safe before climbing the metal stairs to David's floor. The door to the apartment was cracked open. Alex crept forward and cautiously pushed the door; he could see David lying on the kitchen floor tied to an upturned chair, his mouth taped, hands and feet bound with a piece of electric flex. A piece of the same wire was wound tightly around his neck. Unable to breath, he was seconds from death. His eyes, bulging out of their sockets, stared in horror.
Alex dived into the room, ripped the tape from David's mouth then grabbed at the flex around his throat, feverishly unwinding the slippery sweat and blood-coated wire; eventually and with a triumphant cry “Got yer, you bastard” he pulled the wire free. David retched as the air rushed back into his starving lungs. Then, after releasing the other bindings they lifted the semiconscious David and placed him carefully on his bed.
“Ling, you better ring for the ambulance. He's going to need more than we can do for him - and urgently.”
Without further hesitation, Ling called the emergency service number, and explained the urgent situation and the need to access the building via the external stairway.
“Be with you in about ten minutes,” the dispatcher confirmed calmly.
Ling replaced the telephone.
“Ten minutes he said. I hope its quick enough,” Ling mumbled.
Alex was gently bathing David's swollen neck and face with cool water. He was still very weak but then as he regained consciousness he tried to speak and struggled to get off the bed.
“You're safe now. Don't try to speak. Relax - we'll sort everything out. You're safe now,” Ling repeated softly, gently trying to calm him, David remained agitated and kept trying to make audible sounds but the damaged larynx made it impossible for any of the grotesque gurgles to be understood. Finally he fell back exhausted.
Alex placed a comforting hand on Ling's arm.
“I think he's passed out Ling. The ambulance will be here any minute now. Why don't you rest, I'll watch him for a while,” Alex breathed, smiling encouragement.
“I got him into this. He's only young and only just married,” Ling muttered, close to tears.
“My God - where is his wife then?” Alex demanded, suddenly ice cold. They looked at each other. “The spare bedroom?” Alex suggested.
Ling stood up and ran to the end of the short hallway. He stopped dead in the doorway, grabbed at his throat and gagged. Alex was immediately behind him. The room looked like a slaughterhouse; blood was daubed on the walls and sparse furniture. On the bed lay a naked female body; it looked like a broken doll drenched in blood. She'd been decapitated, her head propped up against the headboard; a piece of paper had been literally nailed to her forehead with something like a crab pick.
Ling vomited involuntarily before muttering, “His wife. Oh God it's his wife.”
Alex stood in silence. The blood drained from his head. He thought for one moment that even his iron constitution would succumb to the gruesome scene. He flexed his hands took a deep breath and stepped into the room. The floor was sticky with blood. He leaned over the bed, ignoring the pathetic head, and read the note. The stark message was written in the woman's own blood.
We always start with the wives and children.
Stay out of our business
.
Alex returned to the hall and grabbed the near hysterical Ling by the arm.
“Come on Ling. We have to get out of here immediately. The paramedics will call the police as soon as they discover this and we must definitely NOT be found here!”
Ling groaned.
“I can't leave David like this,” he grated, struggling to return to his brother's side.
“His breathing's better now and we can't do any more for him. The medical help is on the way so we must leave at once,” Alex tried to assure him.
Ling was desolate as he looked up at Alex, the tears forming in his eyes.
“That bloody Syndicate. This is the second time they have defiled my family,” he spat. “What can we do? Just what can we do against such creatures?” he appealed to Alex.
“We'll find a way my friend, I assure you - and that may be quite soon,” Alex coaxed. “Come on let's move.” The wail of the ambulance siren penetrated the night as it sped towards the apartment block.
They raced down the clattery iron staircase and into the side street, slipping silently into the night.
f
Drifting lazily just off the coast of Corregidor, Greg and Oscar were enjoying their day's fishing so much that they almost forgot the real reason for being out there. They'd tried unsuccessfully to persuade Dick to go the farthest wreck - “Our wreck,” as Greg described it - but he'd produced every conceivable argument as to why they should avoid that particular location.
“The current is so strong you only get about one hour either side of the tide” and “There are so many sharks they rip any fish from your line before you can pull it in!” or “There's always a heavy swell out there where the continental shelf joins with the deep of the South China Sea - even I get seasick!”
They'd caught several prize fish, religiously taking the traditional photographs before returning all but the smallest to the water.
“Even that's about as big as I can get on the Bar-B-Q,” Oscar proclaimed cheerfully.
Having decided to call it a day, they were just pulling in their fishing gear when they noticed that the two fast fishing boats that had been hovering about three miles away for the last hour, had motored unnoticed towards them.
“Hello - we must have upset the natives,” Dick announced, suspecting that the boats were shadowing them.
He slipped the boat into gear and brought her around onto their course for home and then eased the throttles forward to give her about eight knots. The other boats turned slightly to match the new course.
“I don't like it,” Dick muttered, now clearly anxious.
“What's the problem?” Greg enquired as he wiped his hands on the towel provided by the woman.
“I'm not sure yet. You can't be too certain of anything in these waters,” Dick cautioned.
Suddenly the two following boats opened up their engines, their hulls rising up on the water as they rushed forward in a flurry of froth.
“Well we're going to find out now,” Dick said grimly.
The woman appeared suddenly at the companionway.
“Here can you use one of these?”
She handed Greg a heavy-duty ten-gauge semi-automatic shotgun. “Here.” She also gave him two boxes of ammunition, one of Brennek solid and one of SG.
“Alternate the rounds,” Dick added casually “and keep it out of sight. We may not need them!”
The woman discreetly placed a similar weapon alongside the wheel for Dick.
“Can anyone join in the fun?” Oscar called from the rear of the cockpit, seeing the guns and quickly assessing the situation.
The woman just shook her hand indicating âno'.
“Who do you think they are; what could they want?” Greg asked, looking back at the fast-approaching boats.
“Well they're not on a social call, that's for sure, but I reckon I can outrun them so we'll let them get a bit closer first.”
He pushed the throttles forward a little more; the log registered ten knots.
“They're quite a bit smaller than us,” Dick assessed. “Almost certainly belong to the rebels in the South. They probably think we are rich businessmen or amateur fishermen and fancy their chances at pinching our boat!” Dick grinned. “We may surprise them - yes?”
They were about five hundred metres away when a voice on the radio called, “Hello there! We would like to come alongside to talk.”
Dick ignored the invitation.
“I was right. They're up to no good.”
He pulled the throttles back until the boat was just moving ahead.
“Why are you slowing down?” Oscar asked anxiously.
“Don't worry, I just need to see who they are. I have friends who will need to know - but hang on we may leaving in a hurry,” Dick said, leaning casually against the wheel.
The two boats were barely fifty metres away when they also reduced speed and settled in the water. A man leaned over the side of the leading boat. He did not appear to be armed, Greg noted. The atmosphere was tense. The first boat was still about ten metres abeam.
“What can we do for you?” Dick called across the narrow strip of water.
“You are fishing illegally in our allocated area,” came the abrupt reply.
“Who are you then?” Dick asked lightly.
At that point, the second boat pulled up on the other side and armed men appeared in the cockpit of both boats.
Dick whispered without turning his head, “Remember - shoot first and ask questions later. These people are pirates. Greg, you fire as fast as you can at the hull of the boat on your side, I'll do the same here.”
Oscar moved into the wheelhouse.
“Give me the gun. You drive the boat,' he barked.
Dick looked at the ageing Oscar dubiously,
“You sure?”
Oscar smiled, “Bet your bloody life I am!”
He discreetly took the shotgun.
The pirate boats drifted closer; the men on board were grinning with confidence, their weapons either slung over their shoulders or hanging loosely, pointing at the deck. They were clearly not expecting to be challenged.
“Now!” Dick ordered. At the same time he rammed the throttles to full power. The boat literally leapt into the air before surging forward at maximum speed.