The Trafficked

She hadn’t had a difficult time choosing her outfit—she only had one. Her mother had sent it over from Hong Kong: pink skirt and purple leggings, white trainers and a pink hoody. It was her special outfit that she hadn’t got to wear yet. It was a bit tight because her mother always thought she was thi

Her footsteps echoed as she ran flat-footed down the long, empty corridor, slapping the worn paving slabs with her heavy feet. She barged through the first set of fire doors and passed the paintings by talented fourth-formers. She turned side-on to the second set of doors and pushed her shoulder so hard against them that the right-hand door swung open and ricocheted off the corridor wall. She stopped to realign her bag across her shoulder before ru

She ran so fast that when she finally arrived at the man waiting for her at the end of the corridor, her face was scarlet with exertion and excitement and she was breathless. She tried to talk but her braces got in the way and she spat out a breathy hello.

‘Amy?’

Amy stared at him. She didn’t recognise him.

‘Yesh.’

Her tongue protruded like a panting dog on a hot day as she rested her hands on the tops of her knees and bent over to catch her breath.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

She looked up at him. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed—he wasn’t what she had expected at all. He was wearing a suit for a start! He looked like a teacher. This man didn’t look like he was ready to take her to Alton Towers, then shopping.

A group of girls in netball kit with swishing pony-tails and rustling gym skirts passed by on their way to tea. Amy and the man stood back to allow them through. The girls giggled and chatted to one another but none of them acknowledged Amy. It was as if she was invisible to them: the beautiful and the gifted.

‘Let’s be off, shall we?’ The man took her bag and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Let’s get you out of here and have some fun. Your father has insisted on it and we don’t want to disappoint him, do we?’

He steered her towards the side exit. Amy glanced back along the corridor to the glass-panelled oak doors that led to the old library. She could still hear the girls laughing and the kitchen staff putting out the plates ready for match tea. She could smell the pizzas cooking. She looked back at the man. Something told her not to go with him. Something told her to run as far away from him as she could.

‘Call me Le

Hong Kong

‘You got some colour—you look more like a wild man than ever.’ Sergeant Ng was there to meet Ma

‘Yeah, and you’ve lost weight, Ng. Getting shot suits you.’

They shook hands warmly. Ma

‘Why the hell was I recalled? I was supposed to be having a vacation—just about to go surfing, for Christ’s sake! What was so bad it couldn’t wait a week?’ asked Ma

Ng shrugged, walking faster than he wanted, to keep up with Ma

‘New Super ordered it. Forget surfing—take up golf. And don’t bullshit me—I know you were working. You couldn’t resist it. Did you find out who’s buying up all the property on the trafficking routes out there? Are the rumours true that there is a new super group muscling in?

‘Yes, and you know who I found? A few old friends. One was the Colonel, that self-styled God of Angeles, and the other was Stevie Ho, our old Triad friend and paid-up member of the Wo Shing Shing. Whatever he’s pla

Ng handed Ma

Ma

‘He’s been a busy boy, our Stevie.’

They drove from the airport across to Hong Kong Island.

‘Where we going?’

‘The bureau got moved to Central.’

‘Nice office?’

‘Not bad. Don’t see you enjoying it for long, though.’

Ng gri

‘Who is it anyway? Last I heard it was still to be decided. I hope it’s the acting super.’

‘It’s not—it’s Peter Wong.’

‘Shit! He really does hate me!’

‘Yeah. Told you. But as they say—it is better to know one’s enemies…’

‘Cut the crap, Confucius.’

They alighted on the seventh floor, straight into the reception area for the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau. A uniformed officer behind a desk checked their ID. Ng punched in a door code and led the way through to the department. Left, right, and left again down the rubber-studded corridors, past brand-new offices with polythene still on the door handles. The whole place smelt plastic. In the centre it opened out into a glass and chrome area with a rectangular bank of computers, surrounded by a glass screen. About fifty police officers were working at PCs and workstations. Smaller offices fa

‘Can’t they afford doors?’

Ma

‘How’s it going, Shrimp?’

‘Awesome, boss.’

‘Huh!’ Ng rolled his eyes. ‘He’s lucky to still be here. He’s in trouble for letting you lead him astray.’

‘Is that true, Shrimp?’ Ma

Shrimp shrugged and shook his head as he excused himself for a minute and walked away to fetch something.

Ng made sure no one was listening. ‘You nearly got him suspended after he was asked what he was doing on Cheung Chau when the man under investigation mysteriously disappeared.’

‘It was a tragic accident. He couldn’t swim—we weren’t to know that.’ A smile flickered up the side of Ma

Ng chuckled. ‘Yeah, justice comes in many forms.’

Shrimp reappeared and handed Ma

‘You missed David White’s leaving do,’ said Ng.