Chapter Four.

Zhang Jae-Sun rose from his chair in the corner of the room and approached the table. He smiled gently at Charlotte.

'I am so pleased that Ku-da Chingu has, at last begun to have perhaps, find himself. You must take him home to where, hopefully, he will be able to take up his true identity, and no longer be the lost soul that he has become since his misfortune. We shall regret his departure, for he has been a stalwart member of our community during his stay here. He must, however, return to his own world. Thank you, Comrade Colonel; may you, and Ku-da Chingu go in peace, and prosper.'

He then turned to Ku-da Chingu.

'Go and gather your possessions, my friend. The Colonel will take you to start your journey of exploration to find yourself once more.'

Ku-da Chingu gave them a puzzled look, then nodded silently and left Zhang Jae-Sun's Hanok. Turning to Charlotte, the old physician gazed at her steadily, and then spoke quietly.

'As you have seen, his memory of his past life is so vague as to be almost as though it never existed. Much education will be necessary. You must endeavour to remind him about past things and places. This will undoubtedly take much time and patience, but if you persevere, it is entirely likely that his full memory will, in time, return.'

Having bid farewell to Zhang Jae-Sun; Charlotte accompanied the silent Ku-da Chingu back down the path through the woods to where her vehicle was parked up on the side of Highway One. As they came out of the tree line, they saw that a North Korean Army motorcyclist was rummaging about inside the parked-up GAZ jeep. Ku-da Chingu froze at the sight of the soldier and made to run back into the woods. Charlotte caught his arm, and silently shook her head. She straightened her uniform jacket and strode towards the unwary soldier who was preoccupied with searching the rear of the jeep. She stopped, a couple of metres behind him, and snapped, in Korean,

'Attention! Why are you searching my vehicle?'

The man jumped back and spun around. His face froze at the sight of this Russian colonel. She repeated her question, and there was no mistaking the cold authority in her voice. Standing rigidly to attention, with fear written all over his face, the soldier reported that he had come upon the apparently abandoned vehicle and was conducting a search to try to establish the reason why it was parked up out here in the middle of nowhere.

Charlotte looked him up and down.

Very well. You may continue with your patrol. I shall now return to Pyongyang to interview this peasant.'

She motioned with a disdainful hand towards Ku-da Chingu, who was standing with his head bowed, and his eyes fixed firmly on a patch of grass a little way in front of him. The soldier nodded eagerly.

'Thank you, Honourable colonel. My profound apologies for my impertinence in examining your vehicle.'

He turned, and almost ran back to where his motorcycle was parked; vaulted into the saddle, kicked the engine into life and roared off along Highway One in a southerly direction.

Charlotte beckoned to Ku-da Chingu and asked him to get into the front passenger seat. Climbing into the driving seat, and starting the engine; she told him to take off the traditional conical hat… the "satgat"; and toss it into the back seat. She looked at him. He still had a good head of hair, albeit, turning silver at the sides; and his profile was still tight. Yes, it was Max. Pulling out onto the highway, she turned the GAZ around, and accelerated away towards Toksan.

No one took any notice of the military jeep as it drove through the little town. The two North Korean army trucks were still parked at the side of Highway One, with soldiers lounging around smoking; but they paid little attention to the Russian jeep… and why should they? The Russian woman officer who was driving didn't even glance in their direction… although, had they been a little more observant, they would have perhaps noticed that she kept her eye on the jeep's rear-view mirror until she was safely out of their sight. Beyond Toksan, Highway One was deserted. She turned to Max.

'I'm sorry, but I had to lie to you back at the village. Your real name is not Konstantin Sharansky; and neither are you a Colonel of the Soviet Administration troops.'

He stared at her. She continued.

'Nor am I a Russian Colonel. My name is Charlotte Mckenna, and I am an American Officer with the Central Intelligence Agency. Your true name is Max Segal; and you are also a CIA officer. You were sent into North Korea during the early days of the Korean War under deep cover as this Russian colonel, Konstantin Sharansky. As far as we can guess, you were driving south to a rendezvous point for extraction back to South Korea when whatever caused you to crash your car took place. By the look of the wreck, it was some sort of air attack. Since then, having lost your memory; you have lived in the village. It is now my job to get you out of North Korea to safety.'

He stared at her in disbelief.

But, I am Ku-da Chingu. I have always been Ku-da Chingu. Zhang Jae-Sun has told me this.'

She shook her head.

'No. You are Max Segal. I can prove this to you. You have a deep, crescent-shaped scar just below your navel.'

He stared harder at her.

'How could you possibly know that? I have never met you...'

She smiled.

'You told me that you got it in a bar brawl in Berlin. I saw it when we sun-bathed at Strandbad Wannsee… the place in the photograph, with me wearing the white swimsuit; and later, at the little white house in the other photograph, when we made love for the first time.'

He dropped his eyes and touched his hand to his stomach.

'For the first time? Then, we were together before…?'

She nodded.

Yes; at first, in Berlin, then in America; and finally, in the Seoul Embassy. We were together for four years before you were sent into the North on your mission.'

She paused. Should she tell him that he had a daughter? No. It would be too much, too soon. Better to let him come to terms that they were a couple; disunited by ten long years separation, before she spread his whole previous existence out before him.

She studied him. He sat there silently, a look of dumbfounded shock on his face. He looked across at her and laid his hand gently over her's as she gripped the steering wheel. He spoke softly in his terrible Russian accent,

'I'm so sorry. I cannot remember anything about you.'

She smiled gently.

'You will, Max. You will.

Eight hundred kilometres to the north-west; in Beijing, the Capital city of The People's Republic of China; Huang Zheheng… former Shang Shi... Senior NCO Huang Zheheng of the 89th Division, IX Army Group, Peoples Liberation Army, and now, an officer in the Central Investigation Department, otherwise known as the Chinese Intelligence Service, opened the top drawer of his desk in his office and picked up and studied the large, blood-red Garnet that he had taken from the dead U.S. Marine in the devastated bunker on Hill 1403 north-west of Yudam-ni, and west of the Chosin Reservoir during the Korean war, back in 1950.

He had thought to sell the gem when he returned to civilian life, to finance a new plough for his family farm; but, in the ensuing three years of war, he had accumulated a considerable amount of booty by way of relieving the enemy dead of their gold rings and teeth. This, in itself, had been grounds for summary execution, but Huang Zheheng had now risen from lowly Shang Shi... Senior NCO, to the staff rank of "Zhong Xiao"... Lieutenant Colonel, and thus, was effectively not subject to investigation. This was, for the most part, due to a fortuitous event for him, at least; during the bloody attrition in what had come to be known as the Battle of Heartbreak Ridge, which had taken place in Yanggu County in the Kangwon Province of North Korea, during September and October of 1951.

Attached to the Intelligence Command post in the Mundung-ni Valley; Huang Zheheng had been out scouting to the north of the area the combatants had nicknamed 'The Punchbowl", when the American combat engineers finally breached the six-foot-high rock barrier built by the North Koreans to protect the valley, and allowed the American armour to punch through. Caught in the open, the defending Chinese division suffered heavy casualties from the American tanks. For the next five days, the Sherman tanks had roared up and down the Mundung-ni Valley, over-running supply dumps, mauling troop concentrations, and destroying bunkers on Heartbreak, and in the surrounding hills and valleys. Out of the thirty Intelligence personnel attached to the sector; ranging in rank from Xia Shi... Junior NCO, to Zhong Jiang... Lieutenant General; Huang Zheheng had been the sole survivor. After that, as the war ground down to a tentative stalemate, his rise through the ranks had been rapid... there were simply not enough experienced officers left. During the battle of Heartbreak Ridge alone, the Chinese, and North Koreans lost twenty-five-thousand men.

He glanced at the Bulova Navigator's watch on his wrist. This was also part of his war booty; the sum total of which... not including whatever anybody would pay for the Garnet gemstone; was in excess of two-hundred-thousand Silver Yuan; the equivalent of about fifteen-thousand American Dollars. The Director had allocated Huang Zheheng a post in Shanghai. Consequently, he had decided that it was time to liquefy his assets. A meeting with the buyer had been arranged for this afternoon in the plush Beijing Hotel, formerly known as the Grand Hotel on East Chang An Avenue.

His contact was a shifty-looking Chinese in an expensive suit who, according to Huang Zheheng's information, was one of the enforcers of the notorious Macau-based Triad: "Dai Huen Jai"; otherwise known as the "Big Circle Boys."

In the expansive lounge of the hotel, the man apprised him with cold, black, expressionless eyes.

'You have the agreed merchandise?'

Huang Zheheng nodded; and holding the man's gaze, inquired:

'What sum has your Mountain Master authorised you to offer?'

The Dai Huen Jai enforcer smiled; a cold, mirthless smile.

'Five thousand Dollars, American.'

Huang Zheheng smiled again.

'You imagine that I am a fool from the Golden Mountain? You would not have travelled so far unless your Mountain Master had authorised you to spend the worth of this gemstone.'

The Dai Huen Jai enforcer's eyes narrowed to black, unfathomable slits.

'It is not the wise man who chooses negotiation with the Dai Huen Jai brotherhood rather than compliance.

Huang Zheheng laid his Type 59 pistol carefully on the table and studied the man.

'It is also not the wise man who chooses to attempt to intimidate a member of the Central Investigation Department.'

The intimation was not lost on the Dai Huen Jai enforcer. His eyes glittered. He was obviously not a man who was familiar with making concessions.

'Very well. The limit of my authority is eight thousand, American. Let us complete the transaction amicably.'

Huang Zheheng handed over the little velvet pouch containing the gemstone as the Dai Huen Jai enforcer slipped a thick manila envelope across the surface of the table. Both men checked the contents of their respective items and nodded. The enforcer slipped the pouch into his pocket and rose from the table. His expression was impassive, but his eyes were deadly.

'You would be well advised never to set foot in Macau.'

Huang Zheheng watched the enforcer leave and relaxed. He had no intention of ever setting foot in the shit-hole that was Macau. His intention was to retire to Hong Kong; purchase a decent property on the Island; and enjoy a good capitalist life-style filled with wine and women. He peered into the manila envelope. It was stuffed with a thick wad of one-hundred-Dollar bills. He smiled and ordered a whisky. It was American Rye... more war booty. As the golden liquid slid down, warming his stomach, he idly mused as to which of the many desirable locations in Hong Kong he would settle in, now that he could afford to do so.

They found his body the next morning, floating face-down in the southern lake in Beihai Park; less than one-and-a-half kilometres west of the hotel. When they pulled the corpse out of the water, they discovered that he had suffered a particularly gruesome death. He had been impaled with a metre-long metal spike that had been rammed up between his buttocks into his rectum; the pointed end of which, had torn up through his entrails and now protruded from his belly exactly mid-way between his pubic bone and his navel. Both his index fingers had also been chopped off… the classic Triad calling card.

The Dai Huen Jai enforcer had long gone. He had boarded the late express on the Jinghu Railway… the main line from Beijing to Shanghai, the previous night; and was now approaching the Yangtze River south of Pukou, almost seven-hundred-kilometres south of Beijing. As the express pulled out of Beijing station, he had opened the little pouch and examined the Garnet gemstone. He smiled to himself. The gemstone certainly met all the aspirations of his Triad Mountain Master… and he still had the American currency which he had recovered from that dumb Chinese Intelligence bastard before he had disposed of his body in the lake at Beihai Park. A self-satisfied smile spread across his brutal face as he carefully replaced the little pouch in his inside jacket pocket and shifted to a more comfortable position in his seat as the express sped on into the south.

Monday, September 19, 1960.

Shanghai.

People's Republic of China.

Meng Hanyong… the Dai Huen Jai Triad Enforcer came out of the large arched entrance of Shanghai North Railway Station, on East Tianmu Road in the Zhabei District, slightly north of the city centre; paused, and lit a cigarette. The journey down from Beijing had been long, and tedious, and now he was faced with another irksome trip by train or bus to Guangzhou; and then, by bus from Guangzhou to Zhuhai. It would take at least another full day before he reached Macau. It was no use looking for a pretty, little Shanghainese girl to help pass the time before his next train. The countrywide, radical Maoist re-education programs had been undertaken on the largest scale in Shanghai since the beginning of the year, and such measures had effectively wiped all visible forms of prostitution from the city's streets. The only thing left to do would be to find a suitable teahouse in the old city; have a few drinks, and see if he got lucky.

He found one that looked suitably seedy on the Xue Yuan Road. He sat in a wicker chair facing the door, sipping tea and surveying the other customers. In a darker corner of the room, he noticed a corpulent, middle-aged Chinese fondling a young girl. She appeared to be Korean, judging by her facial features… her face was flatter than most Chinese; with higher, and squarer cheekbones, and she possessed smaller eyes with single eyelids. She was very pretty, with her glossy blue-black hair cut into a short-bob. She looked to be about fifteen. Meng Hanyong surveyed the room. The girl was the only one worth having; except perhaps, for the waitress who had brought his tea. He turned his gaze back to the fat Chinese. He was beginning to get more insistent in his attentions towards the girl. She appeared to be trying vainly to ward off his more licentious approaches.

Stolen novel; please report.

Meng Hanyong watched this unfolding molestation with cold, detached interest. The girl would be an attractive distraction to while away an hour-or-so before he caught the train south. He watched, as the fat Chinese thrust his hand up under the girl's skirt and she recoiled from his groping hand. Scraping his chair back; the Dai Huen Jai Triad Enforcer strode across to the table, reached out, and closed his vice-like grip on the fat Chinese's arm.

The Chinese glanced up, startled. Meng Hanyong hissed,

'Stop that, you fat pig. Leave the girl alone.'

The fat Chinese's eyes narrowed as he spat out the words, in gutter Cantonese…

'Gwan lei lun see ah, sou hai'… 'None of your fucking business, dumbass.'

Meng Hanyong hit him only once. The fat Chinese collapsed, scattering the delicate tea bowls as the enforcer grabbed the girl and hurried out of the teahouse whilst pandemonium broke out amongst the other patrons. The ensuing Shanghai police report stated that witnesses saw the stranger hit the fat man just once. He seemed to deliver the phenomenally rapid blow not with his fist, but with the side of his left hand, and the fat man fell straight across the table, then collapsed onto the floor and lay as still as a rock.

The girl and Meng Hanyong hurried away along the Xue Yuan Road as the distant wail of police sirens began to echo through the warren of convoluted, cobbled streets. She pulled him into a narrow, dingy alleyway and guided him away from the main thoroughfare and prying eyes. In a deep doorway, she turned to him, and slipped a knowing hand down to stroke his crotch. She smiled up at him innocently.

'Thank you, honourable sir for saving me from that Cantonese pig. How may I repay you?'

Meng Hanyong grinned and fondled her pert little breasts through the thin material of her silk top. A quick "up against the wall" was just what he had been hoping for. He turned her into the doorway and pushed her back against the stained, paint-peeling brickwork; feeling her deft hands undoing his trouser fly buttons. She slipped her delicate fingers inside; encircling him with firm, long strokes, gently caressing and kneading his rapidly tumescing member. Breathing hard, he ran his hands up under her skirt to her hips; groping for the waistband of her cotton pants, intent on dragging them down around her ankles.

He heard nothing of the stealthy approach behind him; so engrossed was he with his exploration of the girl's soft, warm young flesh. A hand snatched a handful of his hair and viciously jerked his head back… he scarcely felt the cold, impersonal kiss of the cut-throat razor's keen edge that his assailant slashed across his throat from ear to ear.

The girl darted to one side as the blood sprayed from Meng Hanyong's severed jugular arteries. He was dead, long before he even began to sway. His assailant released his grip and the Enforcer's body slumped face-first against the decaying brickwork then slid to the ground. With a speed and deftness that belied his corpulence; the fat Chinese expertly frisked the twitching corpse, removing the thick manila envelope containing several thousand American Dollars and the little pouch that held the large, flawless Garnet gemstone; both of which disappeared into his voluminous pockets. He smiled contentedly to the girl and stroked her hair.

'A fine day's work, little flower.'

She smiled sweetly.

'Yes, Uncle.'

He took her hand, and they hurried away out towards the Renmin Lu ring road that circled the old town, where they flagged down a cruising taxi and travelled north across the city to Shanghai North Railway Station. They boarded a train for the thirty-six-hour journey to Hong Kong. With his newly acquired wealth, the fat Chinese took a two-berth "deluxe soft sleeper" with private toilet, where he could "relax" undisturbed in the company of his "niece."

Wednesday, September 21, 1960.

Central Kowloon District.

Hong Kong.

Sheih Shou Rong; the fat Chinese, stepped down onto the platform of Kowloon station from the night sleeper and turned to assist his "niece" down the steps of the sleeper coach. The journey down from Shanghai had been uneventful, and he had spent several hours relaxing and sampling her versatile delights in the privacy of the "deluxe soft sleeper" which he had taken for their journey. He smiled to himself. She was certainly a desirable liquid asset, and one that could easily be used to generate a considerable working capital, if delivered into the right hands… as could the Garnet gemstone. He led her off the platform out to the station forecourt, where he hailed a cab. He knew exactly where to take both her, and the gemstone to secure the best deal… Hak Nam… Kowloon Walled City… "The City of Darkness" as it was called; the wickedest place on earth. It was the centre of the Hong Kong narcotics trade, the sex trade, and the Chinese criminal gangs.

The City of Darkness was a festering, monolithic labyrinth of anarchy and lawlessness rearing up abruptly in the heart of urban Hong Kong, between ten and fourteen storeys high; inhabited by tens of thousands of people living in small rooms stacked on top of each other; ruled by the Triads, and out of bounds to the British Hong Kong police force. A man could be murdered here without the British Colonial authorities ever hearing about it. Crime flourished in this Triad stronghold which measured a mere two hundred metres by one hundred metres, and covered little more than five acres. Prostitution was rife in the twisting hutongs… the cramped corridors and alleys winding maze-like, amongst the illegal businesses, unlicensed dentists; doctors, and opium parlours. Sweatshops had been set up in the area to avoid labour laws, and electricity was illegally tapped off the Hong Kong grid to feed the area. There was no sewage system, and the water supply was a solitary standpipe supplied by the Hong Kong government, as well as several self-dug wells.

The alleys were lit by fluorescent bulbs twenty-four-hours a day. The ground level rarely received sunlight because of the density and height of the buildings that were haphazardly constructed as every available space within its tiny acreage was expanded out, and crammed into, until its contorted labyrinth of thoroughfares and pathways became festooned with a tangled overhead network of pipes and wiring, dripping and hissing above the city’s dark, dank walkways. The maze of staircases and upper alleys was so extensive that one could actually walk around the city without ever touching the ground. It was a perfect criminal hideout; and it was here that Sheih Shou Rong intended to dispose of his "niece"... Mei Hua. Some Triad whoremaster would pay good money for her.

The fat Chinese had found her on a sleazy street in Macau when she was twelve, and had groomed her to perfection. Some girls you could teach; but Mei-Hua possessed a natural instinct for carnal virtuosity. That was rare… and expensive. The Triads, who rigidly controlled all the brothels, opium dens, and gambling parlours in the City of Darkness, would pay highly for control of her. She might even end up installed in one of the better, Triad-owned apartments on the Mei Tung estate across the road to the north, servicing Hong Kong's Society Elite who came in for the sex, drugs, and gambling.

The Garnet Gemstone was an easy sell. The Garnet carried significant reverence in Chinese beliefs as bestowing immunity to injury upon its wearer. It was also believed to attract the energy and influence of the Sun. The larger the gem, the greater the attraction; and a Triad Dragon Lord would bestow great favour upon one of his lieutenants offering such a prize.

As he settled into the rear seat of the cab and slipped his hand up under Mei-Hua's skirt for possibly the last time; he smiled complacently to himself. He would accrue a considerable sum of money for these two assets… and he still had the envelope of American dollars. His smile became even more complacent as Mei-Hua delicately unbuttoned his fly, slipped her hand within; wrapping her little fingers around his swollen, aroused member, and began to fondle and squeeze. She gently eased it out; delicately moistened her lips with her tongue, and bent her pretty head down towards him.

The cab stopped a little way back from Carpenter Road… far enough away to be out of the shadow cast by the overcrowded, rat-breeding cauldron of iniquity they called "Hak Nam"... the City of Darkness. Sheih Shou Rong paid off the cab driver and, taking Mei-Hua by the hand, crossed Carpenter Road, and stood on the garbage-strewn, broken pavement. He studied the towering, ramshackle tenement buildings, looking for a narrow passage about two thirds of the way along the south frontage, named Tai Chang Street. He knew that the contact he had arranged to meet would be in a Dim Sum shop somewhere along its murky depths.

The passage stank. It was no more than four-feet-wide; dipping and twisting along its dark, and dank length into the dingy, deep green light that suffused the lower levels of this cesspool of garbage, dark wet corridors, rats, and disease. He led the girl further into the semi-darkness that echoed to the endless splatter and drip of water leaking onto the stone-flagged pathway whose centre had been worn down into a shallow depression, and was running with filthy water. The smell of rot and decay permeated the very air. The slimy walls were mildewed and water-stained black and green from the tangle of overhead leaking pipes.

The dark shadows crept across everything, smothering the passageway's furthest reaches as, holding Mei-Hua's hand firmly, he moved forward deeper into this bizarre and squalid warren of dark and brooding half-light, suffused with the overwhelming, sweet-rank smell of opium, cooking oil, and frying fish-balls interspersed with the smells of wood smoke, joss-sticks, and boiling rice; and the ever-pervading stench of human excrement and rotting garbage lingering in the stale, humid air. Glancing up, he could see nothing but crisscrossing clothes lines and electrical wires spider-webbing up to a sky made only of rooftops, and of wire mesh stretched across from building to building in order to prevent too much garbage and sewage thrown over the side from the hundreds of people living in tents of cloth or cardboard erected on the tops of the buildings, from falling down and blocking the passageway. Cockroaches crackled under his feet, and, gripping his hand tighter, Mei-Hue stepped gingerly over a large, dead rat lying in the iridescent stream of oily, feotid water running along the middle of the worn stone path. Rats were a common sight in this part of Hong Kong. They outnumbered people two to one.

Sheih Shou Rong walked slowly whilst his eyes became accustomed to the gloomy darkness. The narrow passage was inky-black in places, with only thin strands of weak sunlight penetrating from high above. Every few-hundred-feet, a naked light bulb or grimy neon tube cast a faint, yellowish light, creating strange shadows that flickered across the dripping walls. He began to wish that he hadn't agreed to traffick the girl within the enclave of this teeming, nightmarish, twilight world; but his source had insisted that the transaction was completed inside the city, where no outside law enforcement dared to interfere.

As it was; there was little to fear from the authorities. Girls as young as twelve plied their trade under the watchful eye of the Triad whoremasters; and Mei-Hua was almost sixteen. Such was the moral code of The City of Darkness, which in reality, could be better called The City of Victims… living in perpetual twilight whilst under the iron rule of the Triads.

The Dim Sum shop halfway along the fifth alley on the right, off Lung Chun Back Street, was crammed in between an unlicensed Dentist's parlour on the one side, and a Mah-jong-cum-opium parlour on the other. The shabby interior was lit by a single grimy, fly-specked fluorescent tube that flickered fitfully; casting an unpleasant strobing effect across the surfaces of the chipped and stained tables. Sheih Shou Rong ordered a beer and a bowl of minced shrimp Dim Sum... bite-sized dough envelopes; steamed or deep-fried and eaten with a touch of soya, and saucers of chicken and other meats in various sauces; whilst Mei-Hua said she would prefer noodles and soup. As they were waiting for the old proprietor to cook their order, a man stepped in from the shadowy alley and sat at their table. He introduced himself as the 423... "Straw Sandal" of the Sun Yee On Brotherhood.

He smiled graciously, but his eyes were cold.

'I am Chang Lok, the Liaison officer of the Brotherhood, and have come to close the transaction as arranged.'

He studied Mei-Hua, and nodded; then held out his hand to Sheih Shou Rong, who brought out the little pouch and tipped the Garnet gemstone into the man's palm. Chang Lok held the stone up and turned it in the light. The gemstone refracted blood-red flashes of light around the shabby walls as its facets caught the reflections from the flickering fluorescent tube. It was a beautiful gem; but the thing that intrigued him was the tiny spark that seemed to shimmer deep in its pellucid heart. He nodded. Yes, the girl and the stone were well worth the negotiated price. He carefully slipped the gem back into its little pouch, and laid it on the surface of the grimy tabletop.

Leaning back in his chair, he spoke.

'The transaction is satisfactory. I shall take the girl, but the gemstone can remain in your possession until my associate brother, "Red Pole" comes to bring you the agreed capital; whereupon, the transaction will be completed by the exchange of assets. Agreed?'

Sheih Shou Rong nodded. He didn't have any choice, seeing as how he was isolated in bandit country… and besides which; he needed someone to show him a safe way out of this dank and mysterious no-man's land in one piece. Chang Lok rose from the table and held out his hand to Mei-Hua. She stood up, and clasping her hands together, bowed to Sheih Shou Rong. She raised her eyes, and murmured,

'Farewell, Uncle.'

Then, she took Chang Lok's hand and walked out of the shop with him without a backwards glance.

The fat Chinese shrugged and turned his attention to the bowl of Dim Sum that the proprietor brought and placed in front of him.

He had eaten about half of the portion when he sensed a presence behind him. Looking up over his shoulder, he saw a powerful-looking man. The man bowed briefly and spoke.

'You are Sheih Shou Rong? I am 426... "Red Pole"... The Enforcer. My name is Shen Ming-húa. I have come on the instructions of my "Straw Sandal" of the Sun Yee On Brotherhood to close the transaction and escort you out of Hak Nam.'

He sat at the table and held out his hand. Sheih Shou Rong passed over the little pouch containing the garnet gemstone, and the Enforcer pulled out a thick manila envelope and laid it softly on the table. He then opened the pouch and glanced inside. He looked up and nodded. Sheih Shou Rong lifted the envelope flap and looked inside. It was stuffed with American Hundred-Dollar bills. He also looked up and nodded. The Enforcer smiled… a cold, humourless smile.

Then our transaction is complete. Come. I will guide you out of Hak Nam.'

They both rose and stepped out into the alley. The Enforcer turned to the right and led the way into the dim half-light. They walked through a series of dank, shadowy corridors; across stairwells and cross alleys, until Sheih Shou Rong was completely disorientated. The Enforcer strode on, with the fat Chinese struggling to keep up with him. At last, the alley widened. It was still shadowy, but at least, the big man in the lead was visible. A narrow open space dominated by a water standpipe appeared. The big man stopped; as though he was waiting for Sheih Shou Rong to catch up.

The Enforcer waited… Sheih Shou Rong was almost within touching distance of the big man's back. Suddenly, the Enforcer turned and struck. The razor-sharp blade of the throwing hatchet he had drawn from its concealment under his jacket caught the fat Chinese dead-centre of his forehead; cleaving his skull as though it was a watermelon. Sheih Shou Rong was dead before he hit the ground.

Stooping, the Enforcer removed the two envelopes containing the cash, and the little pouch containing the Garnet gemstone. He then prised the hatchet out of the corpse's skull and turned to the standpipe to wash the blood and brain matter from the blade. Stepping back, he turned and walked away to be swallowed up by the shadowy half-light as the oily, filthy water running down the deep hollow worn in middle of the stone walkway slowly turned red as the bloody tendrils seeping from the corpse ran into, and gently swirled on its surface.

Friday, September 23, 1960.

Central Kowloon District.

Hong Kong.

Shen Ming-húa; the 426... "Red Pole"... the Enforcer of the Hong Kong Sun Yee On Triad, came out of the Walled city and walked purposefully along Carpenter Road towards its junction with Tung Tau Tsuen Road. In his jacket pockets, he carried the two envelopes containing the cash and the little pouch containing the Garnet gemstone he had taken from the body of the Fat Chinese whom he had coldly executed in the dank, shadowy alleyways of the City of Darkness on the instructions of his Triad Master. At the junction, a gleaming black Mercedes-Benz 300D limousine waited, with its engine whispering. The Enforcer opened the rear door and climbed in. He nodded to the driver, who engaged gear, pulled out smoothly into the traffic, and sped away towards downtown Kowloon.

The Mercedes purred down Salisbury Road and stopped in front of the Star Ferry Terminal. The hour hand of the clock in the low tower over the entrance read eleven o'clock. Two tough-looking Chinese dressed in similar dark suits to the driver approached and opened the rear door for the Enforcer to alight. As he stepped out of the Mercedes, both men bowed, and escorted him down the covered pier to where a Chriscraft Corsair motorboat... a sleek twenty-two-feet of stainless steel and varnished teak, with white pleated, leather seats, waited with its V-six-cylinder engine quietly burbling away. The Enforcer stepped down into the launch's cockpit; settled himself on the rear seats, as the two heavies pushed off from the pier and the boat headed out across Victoria Harbour towards the waterfront of Hong Kong Island.

Ten minutes later, the motorboat came alongside the pier to the west of the elegant renaissance-style Hong Kong Club building. Another black Mercedes-Benz limousine was waiting in front of the imposing façade of the Central pier. As they approached, the driver opened the rear door for the Enforcer and bowed. As he settled himself on the spacious, dark blue Bedford cloth upholstery of the deep rear seat, the two escorts slid into the front seat beside the driver, who pressed the engine self-starter, engaged gear, and swept out into Queen's Road Central, with its tyres whimpering on the asphalt; past the monolithic Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, said to be "the tallest building between Cairo and San Francisco;" and headed out of Victoria City in the direction of Magazine Gap and its junction with Peak Road that led up to Victoria Peak.

As the limousine wound its way up the sinuous Peak Road towards its destination, the Enforcer switched on the car's interior light and tipped the contents of the little velvet pouch into his lap, appreciatively studying the gems. The big, pigeon egg-sized Garnet was beautiful. The tiny blood-red spark in its heart twinkled seductively. Yes, he could see why his 489... "Mountain Master"... the head of the Triad, coveted this gem; and why so much time and expense had been invested in tracking it through its journey from mainland China. He allowed himself a self-satisfied smile as he replaced the gem in the little pouch.

The limousine turned onto Barker Road and drove in through the imposing gates of one of the large white mansions on The Peak... the best locality in Hong Kong; the exclusive residential area formerly reserved for non-Chinese. The driver proceeded up the sweeping drive and stopped outside the Colonial-pillared entrance. A servant ran to open the rear door; the Enforcer alighted and entered the building followed by the two escorts. Another servant deferentially conducted him to the drawing room, opened the door, and bowing deeply; backed away as he entered.

The Enforcer walked across the vast expanse of finest English Wilton carpet to the figure seated behind the massive camphor-wood desk that dominated the huge drawing room. Heung Wah-yim, Master of the Sun Yee On Triad, gently pushed away the head of his newest concubine, the sixteen-year-old Mei-Hua who had been delivered to him less than two hours ago from the City of Darkness, and had been delicately, and expertly fellating him from within her concealed position under the central kneehole of the desk. As she settled back on her heels, and continued to delicately stroke his engorged member and tease his scrotum with her fingertips; he placed his elbows on the finely tooled leather surface of the desk and rested his chin on his hands. His face was impassive.

The Enforcer stood before him and bowed deeply. He brought out the two manila envelopes and the little pouch and carefully placed them on the surface of the desk. Heung Wah-yim ignored the envelopes and loosened the drawstring of the little pouch; tipping its contents onto the leather surface. The pigeon egg-sized Garnet glowed in the light of the ornate Tiffany desk lamp. Heung Wah-yim picked it up and turned it in his fingers, admiring the tiny blood-red spark in its heart. He nodded.

'You are to be congratulated, Shen Ming-húa. It is everything we were led to believe.'

He pushed the envelope containing the eight thousand American Dollars that had been the original payment for the transaction back in Beijing between the Chinese Intelligence Service Officer, Huang Zheheng, and the Macau-based Dai Huen Jai Triad enforcer, Meng Hanyong.

'You may retain this envelope as a reward for your diligence.'

Shen Ming-húa bowed deeply.

'Thank you Master. Your benevolence is munificent.'

Heung Wah-yim nodded, and dismissed the Enforcer with a languid flourish of his hand. As the Enforcer left the drawing room, he reached forward under the desk, and, placing his hands either side of Mei-Hua's face, gently drew her head down towards him again.