Nine Dragons - A Beatrix Rose Thriller: Hong Kong Stories Volume 1 (Beatrix Rose's Hong Kong Stories Book 2) Read Online Free
question pass without answer. “When are you speaking to our friend?”
“He will call me when he knows it is done.”
Two or three days, then, she thought. “Very good. Contact me when you know.”
“Beatrix—” he said as she replaced the receiver.
She gritted her teeth in vexation. No names, she wanted to remind him. No names . She knew that he was trying as hard as he could, but he could not prevent himself from making stupid mistakes. He wouldn’t have lasted half an hour in the Group, but he was all she had, and, if she wanted to maintain her income, and continue to fund the investigators searching for her daughter, she had no choice other than to work with him.
Beatrix had met Chau six months earlier in Kowloon. He was in his early fifties, and, with the deep creases in his forehead and around his eyes, he had something about him that reminded her of Jackie Chan. He wore the most awful clothes, typically favouring garish Hawaiian shirts, white slacks and pristine white trainers. There was no question that he was an unusual man. His English was passable, but so heavily accented that it was almost a pastiche. He was intelligent, but hid his acumen behind a veil of bad jokes and goofy expressions.
Their meeting had been inauspicious. Beatrix had not long arrived from London. She had received bad news from the investigators and she had decided to drink herself into a stupor to forget the hopelessness of her situation. She had only halfway accomplished that when Chau had introduced himself. Her initial thought was that he was coming onto her and she extricated herself from the conversation, retreating with the glass of sake that he had bought for her. She had been working her way through that when three triads, one bearing a meat cleaver, had come into the bar with the intention of amputating his finger.
It was a punishment to be meted out on behalf of the Dai Lo of the Wo Shun Wo clan. He had been recruited to work for the man, the boss in charge of a small part of Kowloon’s clubland. Chau had a profitable business as an industrial cleaner, but allowed himself to be blinded by greed. The Dai Lo , a meth addict by the name of Donnie Qi, had recruited him to clean up the bloody messes that accompanied the brutality with which he enforced his rule. Chau was good at making blood and gore disappear, and had graduated soon enough to making dead bodies disappear, too. It was only when Donnie pressed him to kill an ex-lover that Chau had finally reached the point at which he was prepared to go no further. That refusal had offended Donnie, and the three men had been sent to persuade him to reconsider.
Beatrix had often wondered what would have happened if she had stayed at her table, finished the sake and then left the bar. Things would have been different. She would have found the money she needed from somewhere else, most likely, and wouldn’t have voluntarily gone back to her old profession.
That was moot, now, for she had intervened.
Normally, the three men would not have stood a chance against her. She had disabled all of them, or so she thought, but the drink had dulled her edge and she had turned her back on one of them. He had taken a knife from the bar and stabbed her in the side. Her own foolish fault. She would have died, but Chau had pulled a pistol and had shot all of them. Then, when he could very easily have run for his life, he had helped her from the bar, taken her back to a dingy flat in Chungking Mansions, and, with the assistance of a doctor Beatrix had never met, he had saved her life.
Their actions had earned the enmity of Donnie Qi. But Chau’s talents were in demand, and he had negotiated with Donnie’s rival, Mr. Ying. The price for Chau’s loyalty was that Ying must provide them with the opportunity to do away with Donnie.
Ying agreed, and Beatrix had killed Donnie.
They had been working for the Dai Lo ever since.
She entered the station, descended to the platform, and took the
“He will call me when he knows it is done.”
Two or three days, then, she thought. “Very good. Contact me when you know.”
“Beatrix—” he said as she replaced the receiver.
She gritted her teeth in vexation. No names, she wanted to remind him. No names . She knew that he was trying as hard as he could, but he could not prevent himself from making stupid mistakes. He wouldn’t have lasted half an hour in the Group, but he was all she had, and, if she wanted to maintain her income, and continue to fund the investigators searching for her daughter, she had no choice other than to work with him.
Beatrix had met Chau six months earlier in Kowloon. He was in his early fifties, and, with the deep creases in his forehead and around his eyes, he had something about him that reminded her of Jackie Chan. He wore the most awful clothes, typically favouring garish Hawaiian shirts, white slacks and pristine white trainers. There was no question that he was an unusual man. His English was passable, but so heavily accented that it was almost a pastiche. He was intelligent, but hid his acumen behind a veil of bad jokes and goofy expressions.
Their meeting had been inauspicious. Beatrix had not long arrived from London. She had received bad news from the investigators and she had decided to drink herself into a stupor to forget the hopelessness of her situation. She had only halfway accomplished that when Chau had introduced himself. Her initial thought was that he was coming onto her and she extricated herself from the conversation, retreating with the glass of sake that he had bought for her. She had been working her way through that when three triads, one bearing a meat cleaver, had come into the bar with the intention of amputating his finger.
It was a punishment to be meted out on behalf of the Dai Lo of the Wo Shun Wo clan. He had been recruited to work for the man, the boss in charge of a small part of Kowloon’s clubland. Chau had a profitable business as an industrial cleaner, but allowed himself to be blinded by greed. The Dai Lo , a meth addict by the name of Donnie Qi, had recruited him to clean up the bloody messes that accompanied the brutality with which he enforced his rule. Chau was good at making blood and gore disappear, and had graduated soon enough to making dead bodies disappear, too. It was only when Donnie pressed him to kill an ex-lover that Chau had finally reached the point at which he was prepared to go no further. That refusal had offended Donnie, and the three men had been sent to persuade him to reconsider.
Beatrix had often wondered what would have happened if she had stayed at her table, finished the sake and then left the bar. Things would have been different. She would have found the money she needed from somewhere else, most likely, and wouldn’t have voluntarily gone back to her old profession.
That was moot, now, for she had intervened.
Normally, the three men would not have stood a chance against her. She had disabled all of them, or so she thought, but the drink had dulled her edge and she had turned her back on one of them. He had taken a knife from the bar and stabbed her in the side. Her own foolish fault. She would have died, but Chau had pulled a pistol and had shot all of them. Then, when he could very easily have run for his life, he had helped her from the bar, taken her back to a dingy flat in Chungking Mansions, and, with the assistance of a doctor Beatrix had never met, he had saved her life.
Their actions had earned the enmity of Donnie Qi. But Chau’s talents were in demand, and he had negotiated with Donnie’s rival, Mr. Ying. The price for Chau’s loyalty was that Ying must provide them with the opportunity to do away with Donnie.
Ying agreed, and Beatrix had killed Donnie.
They had been working for the Dai Lo ever since.
She entered the station, descended to the platform, and took the
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