Dead in Hong Kong (Nick Teffinger Thriller) (34 page)

“I don’t know,” Kinjo said. “It could have been them but it could have been a third party, too. Other bidders knew about the masks. Maybe one of them staked him out and followed him that night.”

Silence.

“I want my money back. You have twenty-four hours to call me with good news,” Diotrephes said. “Not a second more than that. Not a second. Do you understand?”

The line went dead.

That conversation was twenty-five hours ago.

SUDDENLY A LIGHT FLICKERED inside Kinjo’s apartment. 

His heart raced.

So, it had begun.

It had actually begun.

He already knew what he’d do when this moment arrived. He’d disappear into the night and go underground, so deep that no one would ever find him. But now that the moment was here, he suddenly realized that his plan was wrong—he would never be able to go deep enough, not unless he was willing to sev
er every connection in his life i
ncluding Arai
, t
he lovely Arai.

That wasn’t s
omething he could do, n
ot now
, n
ot ever.

Suddenly everything became clear.

What he needed to do was send Diotrephes a message.

Something loud.

Something clear.

He took a deep breath, stepped out of the shadows and headed towards his apartment.

Day 1—May 15

Friday Evening

NEVA
WALKED SLOWLY across the room to Breyona’s body, looked at her poor lifeless form for a few heartbeats and closed the woman’s eyelids. They were cold to the touch
b
ut that was better.

Now she was at peace.

Suddenly the lights went out and a noise came from behind her. She spun, but not fast enough. A terrible pain exploded in the back of her head just as her peripheral vision caught the shape of a shadow. Her legs gave out and everything went black before she hit the floor. 

She regained consciousness at some point later.

It could have been two minutes or two hours.

Her brain felt as if little hammers were beating on the inside of her skull.

She opened her eyes.

The room was dark.

She was alone, t
ied spread-eagle on the bed.

Movement came from the living room. Whoever did this was waiting for her to regain consciousness. She needed to clear her throat but forced herself not to. This was her only chance, to get loose now, this second, before he realized she was awake.

She pulled at her bonds
, q
uietly
, f
orcefully.

It did no good.

She pulled again, this time with all her might. The ropes cut into her flesh. She was tearing her skin.

Come on!

Break!

Break you bastard!

Her breaths came faster and louder. Suddenly a figure was standing in the doorway, watching her, saying nothing.

HER INSTINCT was to say,
Fuck you, you bastard! Fuck you to hell!
  But the thought of enraging him terrified her. He walked towards her, taking his time, emphasizing that she wasn’t going anywhere. He was a white man with a shaved head, bigger than average, wearing jeans and a wife-beater tank top. Strong, heavily-tattooed arms hung at his side.

“Did you have a nice nap?” he asked.

She said nothing.

“What’s wrong, don’t you like me?”

She turned her head a
way, t
hen stared into his eyes. “What do you want?”

He shrugged.

“Nothing, just the truth, that’s all,” he said.

“The truth about what?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled her T-shirt up, and ran his index finger in circles around her bellybutton. She struggled, but then stopped when she saw it was bringing a smile to his face.

He pulle
d her shirt up above her breasts t
hen ripped her bra off
a
nd played with her nipples.

“I’m going to ask you some questions,” he said. “If you answer truthfully and don’t give me a hard time, your death will be quick and painless—well, as painless as I can make it.”

“Screw you!”

He smiled.

“You’re starting to like me,” he said. “That’s nice.”

She pulled at the ropes.

They tore into her skin.

She screamed.

Then the man put his hand over her mouth. She tried to bite him but couldn’t. Then she realized she couldn’t breathe. She tried to shake her head. The man grabbed her skull with his other hand and held it steady.

“It takes a good five minutes to die by suffocation,” he said. “Did you know that? That’s a long time, don’t you think?”

She couldn’t breathe in.

She couldn’t blow out.

Her lungs were on fire.

The man stared into her eyes, saying nothing, watching her die, not impressed with her pain.

Then he suddenly removed his hand.

She gasped for air
, s
o fast and deep that she sucked saliva into her lungs, which forced her into a choking spasm. The man sat there, patiently, waiting for her to regain her composure. When she finally did, he patted her on the stomach.

“All right, let’s begin,” he said.

SUDDENLY A FIGURE APPEARED in the doorway, moving quietly and steadily into the room.

It was a woman, a y
oung
woman w
ith long blond hair
.

She was so
aking wet.

A knife was in her hand.

The man must have seen
Neva
staring at something, because he turned. Just as he did, the woman sprang and stabbed the blade into his back. The man sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments and stared into space. Then he drooled blood and dropped sideways to the floor.

No sounds came from where he landed.

The woman stared at him, breathing rapidly. Then she locked eyes with
Neva
, walked briskly out of the room, returned with a second knife, and cut the ropes. Before
Neva
could get upright, the woman bolted out of the house.

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