Black Horn (25 page)

It had
been a long time for him and he groaned with pleasure. She had, in such
matters, an exquisite sense of timing. Her whole body slithered over his as she
lifted her mouth and whispered "Don't move... and don't be macho ... let
me do it."

The
butterflies had become a velvet vice as they gripped him and guided him into
her. It was as though he was piercing an oyster made of silk... an oyster that
was hungry and that devoured him. Her tongue was in his mouth again, soft and
inquisitive. He ran a hand down her back and on to her smooth bottom, put his
other hand around her neck, and in his mind began to worry that it would all be
over too quickly. He felt the passion building up from his feet and tried to
slow it down, but she gave him no chance. She moved her bottom to a perfect
rhythm. She was kissing his ear. Again her tongue was probing, and he could
hear the mounting beat of her breath and realised that she was as close to
release as he was. Suddenly, she brought her legs around his waist and he could
feel her feet on his buttocks, forcing him harder into her. Her body spasmed as
he came with her. She burst into tears. She shed tears for her family, and for
the security and warmth. He held her close to him and her sobs subsided.

The Owl
was listening to Beethoven on his Walkman and, with his right hand in the air,
trying to emulate von Karajan.

He was
lying on the plush settee and looking out over a very busy Hong Kong harbour.
One of the two bedroom doors opened and Jens Jensen came out. He was talking,
but it did not penetrate The Owl's earphones. The Dane started shouting. The
Owl held up a hand. The symphony was coming to an end. His hand beat the air
and then with three short downward movements, he brought the symphony to a
close. He switched off the Walkman, took off the earphones and looked at his
friend. Jens was dressed in Bermuda shorts and a bright Hawaiian shirt, and
carrying a smart black leather briefcase. He glanced at his watch and said,
"Let's go. Our appointment's in half an hour."

The
Frenchman shook his head.

"Jens,
I'm not going anywhere with you dressed like that. You look like you just
walked out of Disney World after having hijacked the pay-roll. We're going to
meet a senior policeman at police headquarters. If you walk in looking like
that, Inspector Lau is not going to take you seriously."

He
received a very disgruntled look from the Dane, who said, "You don't
understand these things. Our cover is that we're here on holiday, during which
time I'm going to do some research for a newspaper article on the Triads."

The Owl
swung his feet to the ground and stood up, saying, "You would certainly be
a threat to the Triads. If they saw you dressed like that, they"d die
laughing. Now, go and change into a pair of slacks and a short-sleeved
shirt."

"You're
like my wife," Jens said. "Every morning when I wake up, she's
already laid out the clothes for me to wear that day."

The Owl said, "Apart from marrying you, your wife has good sense and style."

The
Dane went back into the bedroom.

They
crossed the harbour on the Star ferry. It only took ten minutes and during that
time, they both gazed at the metropolis in front of them.

"I
feel at home here," The Owl said. "It's bigger and busier, but it
reminds me of Marseilles."

"It's
got a lot more crooks, as well," Jens observed.

"That's
true. And it's got one more, since I arrived last night."

"So
you really see yourself as a crook?"

"I have to," the Frenchman answered. "Don't forget, I started off in the
streets of Marseille, an urchin stealing everything I could lay my hands on.
Then I worked for a whole series of villains, strong-arming protection rackets.
It was only when I was hired by Leclerc to watch his back, that I more or less
went straight... I have a feel for this city and I'll be useful to Creasy
because, as sure as the Pope is a Catholic, if I'd been born Chinese, I'd be a
Triad. I know their minds."

The
Dane glanced at him. They had been the closest friends now for three years,
ever since Creasy had borrowed The Owl from the arms dealer Leclerc in
Marseille, to watch Jens's back. It had been a lasting arrangement. After
helping Creasy to crush the drug-dealing and white-slave trafficking Blue Ring,
Jens had left the police force and opened his own detective agency in
Copenhagen. The Owl had come in as an open partner and rented a small flat in
the same district as Jens's home. He was a regular fixture. Jens's wife enjoyed
his quiet company and their eight-year-old daughter Lisa considered him her
favourite uncle. The business had thrived. They specialised in locating missing
persons and had tracked them down all over Europe. It was, in a way, bounty
money, but when they found a person who genuinely wanted to remain missing and
had committed no crime, they sometimes took a moral stand and quietly left that
person where he or she was. Although Jens was competent with a hand gun or a
rifle, he was no expert. He relied more on his brains and his IBM, and although
The Owl looked exactly like an owl, he was deadly with a throwing knife, a pistol,
a rifle or a submachine-gun.

They
were ushered into Inspector Lau's office by a young constable. The Inspector
was in his mid-forties, slim and dressed in a civilian suit and tie.

Jens
handed over the letter from the newspaper. Inspector Lau read it, and then
looked up and said, "The Triads operate in most European cities with a
Chinese population but, to the best of my knowledge, they don't operate in
Copenhagen. Are your readers really going to be interested?"

"Definitely,"
Jens answered. "We have a small Chinese population, but it's growing and,
for sure, the Triads will become interested sometime in the future."

"What
do you know about the Triads at this point?" the policeman asked.

"Quite
a bit," Jens answered. "I know of their origins and how their good
intentions were perverted to crime. What I would like to know is something
about their size, their influence and their power in Hong Kong today. For my
articles, I've decided to concentrate on one particular Triad -- the 14K."

"Why
that one?"

"Because
they're the biggest and they have branches not only in America but also in
several cities in Europe."

Inspector
Lau nodded thoughtfully and then asked him, "Mr Jensen, were you ever a
policeman?"

The Owl
glanced at his friend and saw the brief, startled expression.

"Yes...
How did you know?"

The
Inspector took a file from the top left-hand corner of his desk and opened it.
He read out: "Jens Jensen. Born 15 April 1959 in Aarhus, Denmark. Educated
at Katedralskolen in Aarhus and the University of Copenhagen, majoring in
social sciences. Joined the police in September 1982. After serving for three
years in the Vice and Prostitution Department, was transferred to missing
persons. Resigned from the police in June 1990 and opened a private detective
agency called Jensen and Associates, together with a partner called Marc
Benoit, a French citizen." The Inspector looked up and gestured at The
Owl. "I assume, this gentleman." There were several other pages in
the file, but the Inspector closed it and laid it in front of him and looked up
at Jens.

"I'm
impressed," the Dane said. "How did you get that?"

"It
was circumscribed, Mr Jensen. You have to understand that I have taken a
personal, almost obsessive, interest in 14K Triad since they murdered my boss,
Colin Chapman. He was a man close to me, and for the past two weeks I have been
doing everything to find evidence against them and their leader. I know that
Miss Lucy Kwok Ling Fong flew to Zimbabwe to try to meet up with a man called
Creasy, who was working on a case which was linked to that of the murder of her
family here by the 14K. As you well know, this man Creasy is a mercenary. My
late boss already had an Interpol file on the man. You may know that Interpol
keep files on all known mercenaries. I have been in communication with
Commander John Ndlovu, of the Zimbabwe Police, and so I know that Mr Creasy
eliminated the killers, in that case. I checked further on Mr Creasy's
activities, and discovered that three years ago he and a group of other
mercenaries wiped out a criminal group in Italy, France and Tunisia. The
computer threw up the name Jens Jensen, a Danish policeman who had taken unpaid
leave and was thought to have been involved in that operation." The
Inspector smiled and spread his hands. "And so, Mr Jensen, when you phoned
me yesterday to ask for an appointment to discuss your article on the Hong Kong
Triads, a little bell went ding-a-ling in my head and I reached for my
files."

Jens
said, "I think you're a good policeman, Mr Lau, and I think I have to come
clean."

"That
is not necessary, Mr Jensen. I think I've worked it out. You are staying in a
double suite at the Regent Hotel, which is not the cheapest abode in the world.
So you were definitely not hired by Lucy Kwok, because she does not have that
kind of money. I found I had a rapport on the telephone with Commander John
Ndlovu. He told me all about Mrs Gloria Manners and her private jet, so I
guessed that she is your employer, together with Mr Creasy and the man called
Maxie MacDonald. I deduced that you and your partner, Mr Benoit, are the
advance guard. You are on a recce, building up a dossier on the 14K, and the
others will follow." He tapped the file to his left. "If I understand
Mr Creasy, he will not be coming just with Maxie MacDonald, even though the two
of them appear to be formidable. They are not enough to go against the 14K and
so I deduce that while you are here, compiling your dossier, Mr Creasy is
building a team." He flipped open the file on his left and riffled through
the pages. "That team will almost certainly include an Australian
mercenary called Miller and an ex-Foreign Legionnaire, a Belgian by the name of
Rene Callard. They also worked with Mr Creasy and you on that operation three
years ago."

Jens
glanced at The Owl, who simply shrugged. He had a bored expression on his face,
but the Dane knew that he was taking everything in and analysing it with a
razor-sharp mind. Jens looked back at the Chinese Inspector and also shrugged.
Inspector Lau's face assumed a stern expression.

He
said, "I suppose that in the next few days. Mr Creasy will arrive with a
group of mercenaries and, of course, try to smuggle some arms into Hong Kong or
acquire them locally. That, of course, is illegal and will not be tolerated.
It's also illegal for a Danish private detective to arrange an interview with a
Hong Kong police officer under false pretences."

Again
Jens glanced at The Owl, who this time shifted uneasily on his chair.

"Are
you going to arrest us?" Jens asked.

Inspector
Lau shook his head.

"No,
not this time. But I'm giving you an official warning and I want you to pass
that warning on to your friend Mr Creasy. If you or he have or find any
evidence which may link the 14K with the murder of Lucy Kwok's family, then you
must contact me immediately. But Mr Jensen -- it must be firm evidence. Thank
you for your visit."

The two
men stood up and mumbled their thanks and turned to go. Inspector's Lau's voice
stopped them.

"I
think you have forgotten something, Mr Jensen."

Jens
turned in surprise. The Inspector was pointing at a small square yellow
envelope which had suddenly appeared on the desk. Jens studied it with puzzled
eyes.

The
Inspector said; "You must have brought it with you."

The Owl
was the first to understand. He said, "Of course," reached down,
picked up the envelope and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

The Owl
kept the envelope in his pocket until they were sitting on the ferry. Then he
passed it over to the Dane. It was flat and its contents were hard. Jens opened
it and pulled out a black computer disk. Both men looked at it in silence.

Then The Owl asked, "What do you think is on it?"

"I don't know," Jens replied. "But one thing's for sure... it's not Swan
Lake."

Do
Huang was building a wall. He was a short man, but very stocky for an Oriental.
The Panamanian sun was hot and he sweated, bare-chested, as he lifted the
breeze-blocks and set them into the mortar. He was also hung over. He had been
given his meagre pay, the evening before, and spent a large part of it on a
decent Chinese meal in Panama City and a bottle of wine and, later on, too many
brandies. But there was no respite from the job. The foreman was a Mexican who
liked to throw his weight about, and also a formidable clock-watcher. He
treated the labourers like dirt and especially Do Huang, whom he referred to
sneeringly as 'the Chink'. Do Huang would have gladly cut the man
down, but work was hard to come by in Panama, or anywhere else, for that
matter.

Do
Huang's work assignment had been laid down at fifty square metres and, apart
from a half-hour break for a sandwich and a glass of water, he had worked
throughout the day. He had about fifteen minutes more work, when the Suzuki
jeep pulled up near the building site. He turned and gave it a brief glance,
and then turned again as he saw the driver getting out. He straightened up and
watched as Creasy approached and gave him the customary kiss.

Creasy
said, "What the fuck are you doing lifting bricks?"

Do
Huang was a little shamefaced. He said, "It's the only work around at the
moment."

"No,
it's not," Creasy said. "I have a job in Hong Kong. It's against the
Triads the 14K."

Do
Huang's face split with a smile of pleasure. He said, "Then, if you're
here and it's against the Triads, it must pay very well."

Creasy
told him the terms and Do Huang was impressed. He looked down at the grey
breeze-blocks at his feet and his smile widened. It faded again as the foreman
approached, shouting, "Come on, Chink! What the fuck do you think this is,
a social gathering? And who is this man? Does he have authorisation to be
here?"