“Maybe one of them is sick,” one of the men said.
“We’d better be more careful here,” another said.
“Occasionally there are police.”
The driver slowed as Marissa and Tristan’s car did. When Marissa and Tristan pulled to the side of the road and parked directly in front of the hospital’s main entrance, the driver pulled up directly behind.
The men watched as Marissa and Tristan got out and walked into the hospital. They glanced around for any police. Seeing none, they got out of their car. Standing in the sunlight, they searched again for signs of the police, but there were none to be found.
“I suggest we use their car,” one of the men said.
The others nodded. All three fit cigarettes, then walked ahead.
Freddie had rolled his window down and had picked up the morning’s South China Morning Post. He loved the gossip columns.
As he was reading he suddenly felt a cold piece of metal pressed against the base of his skull, just behind his right ear.
Afraid to move quickly, he turned only his eyes to the right. He had an idea what had been pressed to his head. He saw that he was right: it was a gun.
Looking up, Freddie found himself looking into the face of a youthful Chinese man with a cigarette clenched between his teeth. Behind him were two others.
“Please get out of the car,” the man with the gun said.
“Slowly and quietly. No one will be hurt.”
Freddie swallowed with difficulty. He knew that these men were triad foot soldiers. Knowing how easily this type of man killed, Freddie was terrified. At first he couldn’t move, but a nudge with the barrel of the gun helped. Slowly, he climbed from the car.
“Please walk back to the other car,” the man with the gun told him. Freddie walked. When he reached the other car, the man told him to get inside. Freddie did as he was told. The man with the gun got in beside him. Ahead, Freddie saw the other two get into his sedan.
Arriving at Kai Tac Airport always filled Willy with happiness.
Although he felt himself to be Australian to the core, having been born in Sydney, his father and mother had come from Hong Kong. Willy had always had a great affinity for the colony.
Besides, he still had family there.
The first thing he did was rent a car. Although parking in Hong Kong was a nightmare, he wasn’t concerned. The car was to serve as a base of operations and could be abandoned at any time. To rent it he used false documents. He had brought several sets.
His first destination was a restaurant in the Mong Kok section of Kowloon, one of the most densely populated areas of the world. The restaurant was located on Canton Street, which was narrow and grossly congested. But with an appropriate amount of squeeze to the local policeman, he left the car between two canvas-covered stalls filled with pots, pans, and dishes.
The restaurant was nearly deserted at that time of the morning.
Willy went directly into the kitchen, where sweating cooks were preparing the food for lunch. The floor was covered with an inch layer of grease and packed debris.
Beyond the kitchen were several rooms that served as offices.
In the first an elderly woman dressed in a black high-collared silk dress was sitting at a desk. Before her was an abacus. The wooden balls clicked as she went over some figures.
Willy bowed with respect, then told the woman who he was.
She didn’t speak. She opened one of the desk drawers and extracted a package of brown paper tied with string. She handed it to Willy, who bowed again.
Back in his car, Willy pulled off the cord and peeled back the paper. The gun was a Heckler and Koch 9-millimeter. It was brand new. He hefted the weapon. It fit nicely in his hand.
Pulling out the magazine, Willy made sure it was loaded. He saw that there was a handful of additional shells in the brown paper. These Willy put into his trouser pocket, although he knew he wouldn’t be needing them. In fact, he’d feel just as confident with just two bullets. The magazine held eight.