‘We never found out,’ said Kang.

  ‘They all died?’

  ‘We killed the wives. We killed the kids. Then we killed the men.’

  ‘Why would the man do that? Why would he stay silent while you killed them all?’

  Kang sighed, bored with the conversation. ‘He probably thought that he was dead anyway. Which is true. If he had confessed he would have had to give the money back to Yung Jaw-Lung. Then he would have been killed, and his family too. You know what Yung Jaw-Lung is like. At least this way someone in his family would still have the money.’ He shrugged. ‘As to the other families. He wouldn’t care. Why would he? Does anyone really give a fuck about anyone else?’

  They both sipped their brandy.

  ‘There is another possibility,’ said Huang eventually.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Maybe none of them stole the money. Maybe it was someone else. Maybe all those people died for nothing.’

  Kang turned to look at him, his eyes cold. ‘Why don’t you shut the fuck up?’ said Kang. ‘And that’s not a rhetorical question.’

  CHAPTER 28

  The squad filed out of the main building at 12.30 on the dot. The team bus was waiting for them, engine running. Mancini, Armati and Moretti were the first on, as usual, so that they could grab the three seats at the back. All the players were dressed in suits and ties at the insistence of the manager. They were all dark haired but other than that had little in common physically. Mancini was dark-skinned and sported designer stubble; he was heavy-set and well muscled. Armati was taller and had his hair gelled into place and cultivated a perfectly-trimmed goatee, and Moretti was balding with a large cleft in his chin and a nose that had been broken several times. The three Italians competed to buy the most stylish suit and it looked as if Armati was winning, no doubt helped by his Hugo Boss connection.

  The manager’s insistence on suits and ties was one of his more esoteric rules because the players stayed on the coach until they arrived at the stadium and there were no photograph opportunities as they got off the coach. But Guttoso insisted, claiming that it was necessary to build team spirit. Not wearing a suit incurred a fine of a thousand pounds and missing a tie was another two hundred and fifty.

  Gabe hung back, looking for an opportunity to use his phone. He saw Tommy Brett looking at him and Gabe faked a grimace and rubbed his stomach. ‘Tommy, I need to use the toilet.’

  ‘Use the one on the bus,’ said Brett.

  ‘I’ll stink the place out,’ said Gabe. ‘I had vegetarian last night. You wouldn’t want to put the guys through it.’

  ‘More information than I needed,’ laughed Brett. He gestured at the building. ‘Get a move on.’

  Gabe waved his thanks and jogged back to the main door. Tim Maplethorpe was the last to leave, knotting his tie. He was tall and wide-shouldered and his suits always seemed to be a size too small for him. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Toilet,’ said Gabe, hurrying inside.

  Maplethorpe grinned. ‘Nerves, huh?’

  Gabe let the door slam behind him before pulling out his phone and calling Ray’s number. Ray answered on the third ring. ‘Ray, what’s happening?’ asked Gabe, his voice trembling.

  ‘I’m on my way to see a guy called Sammy Wu. I’m hoping he knows where CK Lee is.’

  Gabe frowned. ‘Who the fuck is CK Lee?’ he asked.

  ‘One of the guys in the pictures you sent me is a triad enforcer who works for a Chinese gangster called CK Lee. Lee is big-time into gambling so he could well be trying to rig this match.’

  ‘You think this Lee has my family?’

  ‘I think he’s behind it, yeah.’

  ‘So let’s call in the cops? Get them looking for Laura and Ollie.’

  ‘Look where, Gabe? All I have is the name. I don’t know where he lives. And if he finds out the cops are involved, he might just have them killed. I’m on my way to see a gambler that Lee has gotten heavy with. His name’s Sammy Wu. I’m hoping this Wu will tell me where I can find Lee.’

  ‘Ray, kick off is in two and a half hours.’

  ‘I know. So we’ve got time.’

  ‘And what if the match starts, what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘That’s your call, Gabe. But I won’t let you down. Where are you?

  ‘Training ground. We’ll be on the coach at half past and at the stadium about one.’

  ‘I’ll call you when I have something,’ said Ray.

  ‘I might not be able to answer, they have a thing about us using phones.’

  ‘I’ll text you,’ said Ray. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep you in the loop.’

  Gabe ran a hand through his hair. ‘Thanks for this, Ray.’

  ‘Fuck that,’ said Ray. ‘You’re my little brother and no one fucks with my little brother.’

  CHAPTER 29

  Ray ended the call and concentrated on the road. Then his phone rang again. Ray picked it up and looked at the screen. It was Donovan. Ray cursed and took the call. ‘What the fuck’s going on, Ray?’ snapped Donovan.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know what I fucking mean. You want to tell me why you’re charging around Chinatown waving your gun around?’

  ‘That’s not what happened?’

  ‘Then explain to me why you beat the fuck out of Jimmy Chen. You don’t want to piss off the 14K, Ray. They take no fucking prisoners.’

  ‘I didn’t beat him up.’

  ‘You slapped him around, that’s what I heard.’

  ‘Look, I’ll send him flowers, okay. I just didn’t have time for please and thank you and he was playing silly buggers.’

  ‘Which brings me back to my first question. What the fuck is going on?’

  Ray took a deep breath. He and Donovan went back a long way, but at the end of the day Ray was the hired hand and Donovan was the boss. ‘Den, I can’t tell you.’

  ‘You see how that doesn’t cut any ice with me, don’t you? The 14K do a lot for me, and if I lose their trust it’ll cost me an arm and a leg. And I mean that figuratively and probably fucking literally as well.’

  ‘This isn’t about the 14K.’

  ‘Then tell that to Jimmy Chen.’

  ‘He had some information I needed and I didn’t have time to fuck around. I didn’t hurt him, Den. Not as much as I could have.’

  ‘What’s going on, Ray? It’s not like you to go maverick.’

  Ray took another deep breath. ‘It’s Gabe. He’s in trouble.’

  ‘With the 14K?’

  ‘No. But maybe another triad.’

  ‘How the fuck does a professional footballer get mixed up with triads?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t fucking lie to me, Ray. I deserve better than to have you bullshitting me.’

  ‘Telling you won’t help,’ said Ray.

  ‘No, but it might stop me having you put down like a mad dog.’

  ‘Are you threatening me, Den?’

  ‘You’re the one who’s threatening me, mate. Threatening my business. Threatening relationships I’ve spent years building up.’

  ‘This is personal, it’s nothing to do with your business.’

  ‘Where are you Ray?’

  ‘I’m in North London.’

  ‘I need you back here.’

  ‘No can do, Den. Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t fucking “sorry” me, Ray. You’re my attack dog and I need you to come to heel, now.’

  Ray opened his mouth to reply but then realised there was nothing he could say to placate Donovan. ‘I’ll call you back,’ he said, and switched off the phone. Donovan rang back a few seconds later. Ray let the call go through to voicemail.

  He reached Camden. He’d put the address the triad heavy had given him into the BMW’s SatNav but from the look of the map on the screen it was planning to take him the long way around. He swore. He didn’t know the area well enough to try a rat run and the SatNav was telling him he was nine minutes away. He saw a car park to his left and he drove in. He took a ticket from an automatic dispenser and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for the barrier to rise. He found a space and took a last look at the SatNav before locking up the BMW and starting to jog through the crowded streets.

  CHAPTER 30

  Sammy Wu was lying on his sofa, a bottle of Johnnie Waller Red Label whisky and a carton of day-old fried rice on the coffee table next to him. He was watching Sky Sports. The Walford United-Chelsea teams were on the screen and being discussed by two pundits who appeared to love the sound of their own voices. Wu had five thousand pounds wagered on the game. Not with CK Lee, obviously because CK Lee had stopped taking his bets. Wu had found a Vietnamese guy who would let him bet on credit, but only on condition that Wu used his car as security, along with two Rolex watches that Wu had owned for years. The Vietnamese had taken the watches and made Wu sign over his car before giving him a five thousand pound line of credit. The man was cheating him because the watches alone were worth twice that, but Wu knew that beggars couldn’t be choosers, especially beggars who had already lost one finger for late payment.

  The bookies all rated United as sure-fire winners but Wu had been able to get half-decent odds on goal difference. He was sure he’d double his money, at the very least. His door intercom rang and he ignored it. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He sipped his whisky. The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time. He put down his glass and reached for his walking stick. The bell continued to ring as he pushed himself up off the sofa and hobbled over to the door. His left hand was still to painful to use so he tucked the stick under his arm and picked up the phone with his right. ‘Who is it?’ he asked in Cantonese.

  ‘Sammy Wu?’

  It was a gweilo. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘I’m busy. And I don’t know you.’

  ‘Sammy, stop fucking about. If you don’t buzz me in right now I’ll kick the fucking door down and then do the same to you.’

  Wu shook his head contemptuously and hung up the intercom. He was just settling back on the sofa when he heard rapid footsteps on the stairs outside He frowned, then flinched as someone banged on the door. ‘Open up, Sammy, or I swear I will blow your fucking house down!’

  Wu struggled to his feet and limped over to the small kitchen at the back of the flat. He pulled open a drawer and took out a carving knife just as the front door slammed open with a splintering sound. The man who had kicked it open stepped into the room. He was tall, well over six feet, broad-shouldered and with murder in his eyes.

  Wu held the knife out. ‘I’ve got a knife,’ he stuttered.

  ‘Yeah, I can see that,’ said the man. He slammed the door shut behind him and it banged against the splintered jamb. ‘Look, my name’s Ray Savage, I’m a friend of Jimmy Chen’s. I just want to talk to you.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘CK Lee.’

  Wu shook his head. ‘Never heard of him.’

  ‘See now Sammy we both know that’s a lie. Now stop being a dickhead and put down that knife.’

  ‘Get the fuck out of my flat!’ shouted Sammy. He limped towards Ray, slashing with the knife. Ray waited until the blade had swung past him before stepping forward to grab the wrist and twist it savagely. Wu yelped and the knife fell to the floor. Ray pulled Wu out of the kitchen, pushed him into the middle of the sitting room and back onto the sofa. ‘I’ll call the cops!’ shouted Wu.

  ‘Yeah, of course you will,’ said Ray, picking up the knife. ‘Same as you did when CK Lee chopped off your finger. He walked over to the sofa, and pointed the knife at the cast on Wu’s leg. ‘He did that to you, too, did he?’

  ‘I don’t know anyone called CK Lee,’ said Wu, but there was no conviction in his voice as he stared at the knife in Ray’s hand.

  Ray lifted his leg and stamped down on Wu’s cast. Wu screamed in pain.

  ‘I need to know where CK Lee is, Sammy, and you’re going to tell me one way or another.’

  Wu gritted his teeth and stared fearfully up at Ray.

  ‘So talk,’ said Ray. ‘Or I’ll start cutting off the rest of your fingers.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  Ray grabbed Wu’s left wrist and placed the edge of the blade against Wu’s thumb. ‘I can do what the fuck I want!’ he shouted. ‘And when I’ve finished on your fingers I’ll start on your toes. Now tell me, where the fuck is CK Lee?’

  ‘Wu shook his head fearfully. ‘He’ll kill me.’

  ‘He won’t know it’s you that told me. Now where the fuck does CK Lee live?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ shouted Wu, then he screamed as Ray drew the blade across the base of his thumb. Blood spurted across his palm. ‘Okay, Okay!’ shouted Wu. ‘For fuck’s sake, stop!’

  ‘Just tell me where he lives and I’m out of here,’ said Ray.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Wu.

  Ray reached out for Wu’s wrist and Wu folded his arms hurriedly. ‘For fuck’s sake, I don’t know where he lives.’

  ‘Tell me something about him, Sammy. Something that will help me find him.’

  ‘He runs a gambling place on Lisle Street. In Chinatown.’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know, Sammy.’ He brandished the knife and reached for Wu’s wrist.

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ shouted Wu. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘I need to find him. I need to know where he lives?’

  ‘Why the fuck would I know where he lives? We’re not friends. I owe him money and he cut off my finger and shattered my knee. If I don’t pay him what I owe him he’ll take all my fingers, one at a time.’

  Ray put his face near Wu’s. ‘Listen to me Sammy, and listen to me good. When I get my hands on Lee, he’s not going to be collecting any debts. Trust me on that.’

  Wu licked his lips nervously. ‘You’re going to kill him?’

  ‘That’s for me to know, Sammy. But take my word, he won’t be bothering you again. Now give me something. Something I can use.’

  Wu nodded quickly. ‘He’s got a mistress. Had her for a year or so. Name of Lilly. She should know where he is.’

  Ray grinned. ‘And where do I find this Lilly?’

  Wu screwed up his face. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Then that’s no bloody help, is it? What about a phone number?’

  Wu shook his head. ‘I just know that he has a mistress, that’s all. She used to work in a brothel in Gloucester Place.’

  ‘Where in Gloucester Place?’

  ‘I don’t know the number. It’s a basement.’

  ‘You’ve been there?’

  Wu nodded. ‘It’s run by Mrs Wei. She’s been around for ever.’

  ‘Tell me how to find it,’ said Ray, and he listened as Wu ran through the directions. When he’d finished, Ray tossed the knife onto the sofa. ‘If I ever find out you’ve called Lee to warn him, I’ll come back and cut off your dick, I swear to God.’

  Wu held up his bandaged hand. ‘I don’t owe him any favours,’ he said. ‘And if you kill him, make sure it’s painful.’

  CHAPTER 31

  A large steel gate rattled to the side and a steward in a fluorescent jacket waved the coach through. The driver opened the door and Joe McNamara and Tommy Brett got off first, followed by Martin Jessop. It was a short walk to the door that led to the changing rooms, which was being held open by another steward. Gabe stayed on the coach. He took out his mobile phone and called Ray but it went through to voicemail.

  ‘Gabe, that’s a five hundred pound fine!’ shouted McNamara, pointing at him through the window. ‘You know the rules!’

  Gabe scowled and put the phone away. He jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder. It was Ronnie Watts. ‘You okay, mate?’ asked Watts from the seat behind him.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Gabe.

  ‘You worried about the penalty thing?’ Gabe grimaced but didn’t reply. ‘Mate, you’ll be fine. You’re in great form.’ He squeezed Gabe’s shoulder. ‘I’d hate to be facing you, I can tell you that much.’ He stood up.

  ‘Thanks, Ronnie,’ said Gabe. He’d completely forgotten about his penalty record but he could hardly tell the keeper what was worrying him. He forced a smile. ‘Butterflies. I’ll get over it.’ He followed Watts off the coach, his kitbag over his shoulder.

  ‘Gabe?’

  Gabe turned around to see a steward standing next to a young boy who wasn’t much older than Ollie. It was Gerry McGee, one of the longest-serving stewards at the ground. He was in his sixties and had been a fan of the team for more than half a century. ‘Gerry, how are you?’

  ‘Just wanted to wish you luck, Gabe,’ said the steward. ‘And introduce you to my grandson, Alfie.’

  The boy was clearly nervous and biting his lower lip as he looked up at Gabe. Gabe smiled and offered the boy his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Alfie.’

  The boy looked up at McGee and he nodded encouragement. ‘Go on, lad.’

  The boy tentatively shook Gabe’s hand. He was decked out in a team shirt with Gabe’s number 10 on the back and a team scarf around his neck and was holding a program. ‘Let me sign that for you,’ he said, and took out a pen. He signed the front cover and handed the program back.

  ‘I got Alfie and his dad seats in the main stand,’ said McGee.

  ‘You should be with them,’ said Gabe.

  McGee shook his head. ‘The club needs me, Gabe.’

  Gabe grinned. ‘That’s true. The place wouldn’t be the same without you around.’ He smiled at Alfie. ‘Your grandad’s been here every time I’ve played. Never missed a game.’

  ‘And I’ve seen you score some amazing goals,’ said McGee. ‘Remember that shot two years ago, against Villa?’

  ‘The cross from Eric, you mean? Perfect, wasn’t it?’

  ‘His cross was a bit high, to be honest,’ said McGee. ‘But you got it, brought it down and that volley?’ He shook his head in admiration. ‘It was a blur, the ball. The keeper didn’t even see it.’ He patted his grandson on the shoulder. ‘Anyway, we don’t want to keep you. You have a great game, Gabe. And congratulations on being captain.’

 

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