SIX DEGREES
A Gunslinger Girl fanfiction, based on works by Yu Aida.
Chapter 07|New Territories
Peering from beneath the boat's long bimini cover, Monty let her expression lapse into that of the bored plaything, eyes settling on where their chartered skipper translated rapidly between Jethro and the owner of the dilapidated pontoon they currently moored against. She stifled a wry chuckle at that, 'skipper' was probably too grandiose of a term, rather a local who had been willing to hire his small vessel and services for the day, answer questions, and not ask any in return. However, he seemed to be working out fine so far and, as much as she would have preferred to partake in the present conversation, there was no point in getting too overbearing, not at this moment.
True to his word, Tiger had found Algy's container, squirrelled away on the New Territories' north eastern extremity, the wild buffer between Hong Kong and mainland China. Here, verdant green hills rose out of calm waters and, beneath their shadow, those who could eked out a living from ramshackle fish farms, anchored in protected coves around Sam Mun Tsai, a world away from the frenetic financial bustle barely twelve miles distant.
Behind the talking group, the reason for their visit now rested, steel bulk causing the pontoon to list alarmingly, not that the owner seemed to mind: probably a fair trade for its security offered over the floating village's indigenous tarpaulin and tin structures.
Now, as she watched, the discussion broke up, and Monty shuffled across peeling paint toward her craft's seaward gunwale, not too far, but leaving space for their guide to clamber aft along weathered planks set just above the hull's plywood skin. Forward, her partner untied the painter, stepping down into the prow, using his momentum to push clear of the farm pontoon, outboard starting up behind as he did.
Boat peeling away, the cyborg waited for Jethro to neatly loop the rope over its cleat, and cocked an eyebrow in question as he settled onto the bench beside her.
His reply was a shrug. "According to the owner, he found it on the mud flats up past Three Fathoms Cove."
"And it was empty?"
"Apparently."
"So we're back to square one again."
"Maybe."
The brow stayed where it was, but brought no further response, and the girl turned her attention forward as they edged free of densely packed farms. Clear of that obstacle, the boat's motor took on a more urgent note, thrusting it forward and up onto the plane, racing across calm, tropical water, kicking salt spray into already humid air which beat across their faces.
Rounding the cape to head back down the peninsula's seaward side, a call turned Monty's attention aft, where their guide was gesturing out across the expanse of Tolo Harbour, past isolated mooring dolphins, toward where more raggedy pontoons floated before green slopes on the far shore.
"Three Fathoms Cove, your box next out!"
There was a slight pause, before her partner shouted back. "Has there been any traffic through lately! Anything unusual!"
That got a shrug. "Always traffic, go up to Yantian or down Hong Kong! Barge..." he thumped the wood hull hard, before gesturing out to the offshore berth, "...little boat, or big ship!"
"Right!" Turning back forward now, Monty felt herself pulled in against Jethro's side as he continued at a lower volume. "Well, that gives us something at least: if the container wound up there, the press has probably been moved onto some sort of vessel... probably a barge to get the draft."
"They couldn't have just dumped the container and it floated there?"
That got a shake of the head. "Doubt it. At sea maybe, but in here there's too much risk of causing a collision and someone looking closer. Best guess is they probably shoved it up on the mud flats and hoped it would quietly rust away."
Ahead now, almost invisible through hanging humidity, the outline of Tai Po's buildings could be seen, embracing the harbour's far western extremity, and the girl nodded toward it. "I don't know if there is anywhere here you could quietly outload a container."
"Might not have originated locally, it could well have been just a quiet spot to moor up and do the transfer."
"In which case we need to know what has visited Tolo Harbour." She paused, before gesturing toward where the offshore berth was disappearing slowly astern. "That looks like a fuelling or bulk liquid loading station."
"Could be fresh water too."
"Could be. Either way it must have some sort of camera system installed, which should cover us for this end. I'll check the satellite photos again, but there was a harbour defence or containment boom across the channel entrance, its monitoring station may have something we can use as well."
"If it does, that's going to be an awful lot of data to sift through."
"If you have a better idea, I would love to hear it."
No response.
Pulling back from Jethro's side to let cooling air blow between them once more, she instead let his hand cover hers, running through a mental checklist. Finding out who operated those moorings shouldn't be too difficult, the boom however... it would be helpful if she knew what it was for. They would have to ask around, but not of their current guide, he had fielded enough questions already.
Frankly, this whole Hong Kong exercise was starting to take too long for comfort.
Motoring farther down the exposed shore, Sam Mun Tsai Village crept into view. Behind its seawall, rustic buildings were propped up on tall piles, dwarfed by terraced town houses at the break water's far end, somewhat amusingly named 'The Beverly Hills'. She gave a derisive snort at that, overpriced homes built next to agricultural poverty... well, people were free to spend their money as they wished. Though why one would want to like that, out here, was beyond her.
Coming closer under their shadow however, the boat slowed, sinking back into the water as it threaded its way along the flank of more creaking fish farms, before edging into the harbour proper. Ignoring those decrepit installations, she let eyes wander down from the gated mansions, following a green roofed minibus as it transited the intervening causeway, toward the village stop. If they hurried they might just be able to...
She halted, focusing in on a figure standing at the road's edge, a pair of binoculars trained out toward them. From here it was still too far off to be clear, even for cyborg senses but, careful to keep movements small, she spoke softly.
"Don't look now, but I believe we're being watched."
"One of the Orchid?"
"Can't tell, don't think so." She paused. "I'll hold off checking until we reach shore, the moment I do they're going to know they're spotted."
That was not a long wait and, moving toward the bow, her partner collected his neatly stowed rope, pausing as their vessel nosed in amongst its brethren at a communal pier, before stepping up onto the rickety wooden structure to tie off. Making her own way the opposite direction, Monty released her grip on the bimini frame, extracting a wallet from her yellow romper's pocket to count out a pre-arranged fee, before shaking hands. Releasing the boat owner again, she pointed to where a set of rubber-coated binoculars rested on the seat beside him, neck strap looped around a spare cleat.
"May I borrow those?"
Reaching over, he unhooked the strap and held them out. Taking the proffered item, Monty found her watcher again, before lifting powerful lenses to her eyes.
The woman's reaction was almost instantaneous, binoculars being lowered to reveal a strongly featured Eurasian face, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and she started to move along the causeway, back toward the village.
"Thank you."
Handing her own set of optics back, the young agent hurried to the prow, allowing Jethro to help her also onto the landing stage, burning what she had seen into her mind.
"It's Mary..." Turning, she began to stride briskly toward shore, handler keeping pace beside. "...if we move quickly we can probably intercept her before she makes the village proper."
Don't run, can't cause a scene.
It was going to be a close thing though. The SIS agent had probably been near equidistant to where this waterfront street rose to intersect the main road. Striding along its cracked concrete, she looked up, just in time to see their quarry arrive at the terminus above, village church spire towering over a waiting minibus, the same one as had passed before. Pausing, Mary's gaze dropped toward the closing fratello and, seeming to make up her mind, stepped aboard just as doors slapped shut.
Now Monty ran, dashing up stairs to crest the embankment, but too late, the Toyota Coaster pulling away as she arrived, handler beside her.
"Bollocks."
Pausing, she looked around, but Jethro was already clutching her elbow, hustling across the road to where a short line of green New Territories cabs waited before church gates, waving frantically at the lead car as he did. Bundling herself into the rear, Monty slid across the seat as her partner slammed the door behind them, peering around its driver's backrest.
"The bus that just left? Follow it, please."
Nothing and, turning, the cabbie gave a confused shrug and shake of the head. "Where you go?"
Cream minibus, green roof; from here that made it a rail feeder route.
Nudging her handler out of the way, Monty leaned forward instead. "Tai Po Market Station."
That got a response and, turning on the metre, their driver paused before, with infuriating slowness, hauling the car into gear and idling out through a cautious u-turn, trundling off in the departed Mary's wake.
Presuming Zhang still had someone in pursuit also, the taxis were going to do well out of them today.
That thought brought a wry smile and, rolling onto the causeway, she caught sight of the bus's cream form, just beginning to amble along The Beverly Hills' tall, security fenced, frontage. That lead was not maintained for long however and, as it pulled to the roadside to pick up passengers, the young agent leaned forward again, hand waving in their driver's peripheral vision.
"Slow, slow." Now, she pointed to the halted vehicle, palm flat. "Follow."
Reaching once more into her wallet, she extracted a five hundred dollar note, holding it out. "Follow."
Now understanding dawned and, taking her proffered payment, the driver doused the meter, slowing to a crawl as their mark's vehicle pulled back onto weathered tarmac.
Reclining in her seat again, Monty shifted position such that she could watch who boarded or alighted from the Toyota ahead. No point in skulking around now, Mary knew they were here, now it was just waiting to see what she did about it. On sweaty vinyl beside, Jethro's hand closed atop hers, giving it a squeeze, and she shot him a small smile, before bringing her attention back to the current subject as its stop-start route continued, along the harbour edge, curving south into Tai Po itself.
As they turned off the main road from Sam Mun Tsai to follow a narrow river inlet, she felt Jethro lean down, speaking quietly. "Don't know if you've noticed, but we've another taxi behind."
"One of Zhang's?"
"I'd say so, they're holding steady distance on us."
That got a pause and, glancing toward her partner again, the girl pulled lips into a thin line, an answer all of itself. Not exactly subtle of their tail, not that they were being particularly so either but...
"It's the same pattern we saw from Noodle the other day. Something's changed, and the prospect is not filling me with a great deal of joy."
Another squeeze of her hand. "No, it's spooking me too. So do we keep on, or try and lose them?"
There was a moment as that was considered.
"I think we have to keep on."
"Glad we agree. First sign of trouble though and we scarper."
Glancing in the rear vision mirror, Monty made a mental note of the vehicle reflected there, occupants' faces unfortunately unidentifiable under interior shadows, before turning her attention ahead once more as Mary's bus slowed to cut across traffic into the station forecourt.
Well, they would know soon enough who their babysitter today was.
Bus veering right into a covered interchange, their driver pulled up at the taxi rank's tail end and, exiting rapidly, the girl collected her partner to hustle across the road in pursuit. Under wide roofing, passengers were already being disgorged, the fratello's target amongst them, heading with that human tide for a ramp down toward the station's underground entrance. Glancing quickly at her watch, the young agent scowled: that would be right too, nearly rush hour. Hopefully most of the line's traffic would be headed out of Hong Kong, but it would still not make life easy, neither in following nor keeping an eye on their own follower.
Turning down the same ramp, she used the opportunity to look back, peering past another arriving bus at their pursuer. John, again... which at least meant she knew who to look out for and how.
Then they were gone, disappearing into the tunnel, Monty's head dropping below those around, and she stifled a sigh. That was the problem with still being a teen: no appreciable height advantage, and her gweilo features meant she still stuck out like a sore thumb to boot. Now however, Jethro's hand pressed into her back, pushing forward through thronging bodies, working toward the station entrance. Apparently he still had eyes on Mary, even if she did not.
Soon the tunnel opened out onto a wide concourse, human tide dissipating into the space, current carrying its bulk toward Oyster Card gates, and John briefly followed that river's course. Out of its flow however, she could see their quarry heading for automatic ticket machines and, as her partner pulled up at an adjoining pay station, the cyborg hung back, edging instead around to try and get a look at the other woman's screen.
Easier said than done, and a slight shuffle blocked her view once more as Mary removed a wallet from loose cargo shorts, extracting a bank note to be inserted before stowing it again. Retrieving the ticket and change, she backed away, heading for the platform, pointedly ignoring the watching girl.
Jethro was not far behind, and he handed down an adult ticket to his partner as they followed along in their quarry's wake.
"There, that will take you as far as the machine would allow."
As they passed through automated gates, the shape of John detached itself from a nearby shadow, falling in astern as they continued in pursuit of their own, now sauntering, mark, up onto the platform proper. Seemingly Mary had decided losing them here would represent wasted effort, easier to do somewhere farther along the line itself.
Climbing narrow stairs, the British agent came to a halt, and her trailing fratello slipped into a spare gap nearby, amongst the milling crowd.
Sparing another glance out the corner of her eye, Monty caught the shape of Zhang's man as he stared up toward the arrivals board. Extracting a phone from one pocket and placing it to his ear, he blocked the other with a finger as rail announcements cut across chattering commuters in harsh Cantonese, before being repeated in English. Not an unsurprising reaction, little doubt the Second Department captain would want to know who else had shown up to play. What remained now was to see the type of reaction that news garnered.
For that matter, it was going to take some fast thinking on their own part regards how to handle the situation. On one hand, this was the first opportunity presented to meet 'Mary Christmas' on their own terms, rather than her flitting briefly across their paths, and that was a difficult carrot to pass up. However, the question remained as to how much extra taking that interest would inform their Chinese counterparts of.
Possible answer, if Zhang really already knew the players in their chase: not a lot.
That wasn't a particularly nice thought and, as a squeal of steel protesting against steel approached, she turned that puzzle piece over in her head, waiting to see where it would fall into place.
The arriving train slowed to a halt, and she looked again toward their mark, ensuring she actually boarded and did not dash away from opening carriages. Using the next entrance down, the girl slipped through embarking bodies to wedge herself against the opposite entry, giving a sightline down the open car as Jethro took up position to press her against glass, shielding their faces from those nearby.
Doors hissed shut, and she lifted herself up on tippy toes, letting her partner bend down to plant a kiss on pink lips, holding it briefly before disengaging, leaving them nose to nose.
"How long do you think it will take before Mary tries to throw us again?"
Her words were low, and the reply was equally soft, accompanied by a small smile. "Not sure. Were I in her shoes, I would probably wait until we were back in the city proper: more places to run and hide if getting off the platform isn't enough. Of course, we don't know where she's been operating primarily, but I suspect she would try for somewhere more familiar."
"Station H is a ways off the East Rail Line."
"It is, not that it means much. From what we've seen I suspect Mary doesn't stop by often... and, of course, we've got our own spotter to lose as well."
At those words, the cyborg let her eyes flick the other direction, finding the 2PLA agent reflected in advertising Perspex. "I'm going to hazard a guess and say John's boss now knows all his interests are in one place. Question is: how much new does that tell him, how does he react... and consequently, how serious an interest can we afford to take?"
A pause, before her partner replied, slowly, "Depends on just how much information he has already. I think we can safely assume he's aware which characters are involved and, presuming he's pursuing the same goal we are, what they're after. The wild card here is whether Zhang has a handle on how everyone is related."
"To be fair, we're still not entirely sure how we're all related." She glanced sideways again. "That does beg asking though: with Mary still in-country, why bother sending us along as well?"
"Any number of reasons, could be she's stalled and needs someone to follow or, much as I hate to admit it, the Circus is not immune to its own variety of factional warfare, and Algy never did get along with Charlie. Could be we're here with the intention of stealing his fire, or it's even plausible we've been wrong all along, that Mary has nothing to do with our own interests, and this is Algy trying to undercut an old competitor."
"Unlikely, we've run into her too many times for coincidence, and remember: the Orchid also had her photo. It's entirely possible she's been shut down and Vauxhall needed someone to take over, in which case though, why not put us directly in contact with the Far East?"
"Again, could be Algy tweaking Charlie's nose."
"Assuming we're all on the same side... and if that's the case, would he really risk your skin over that little? Possibly have both agencies trying to chase us down?" She cocked an eyebrow, giving a doubtful answer to her own rhetorical question. "You said yourself, standard procedure and courtesy dictate Charlie would have been informed: top secret, only the upper echelons. So why not let the communication run both ways? Mary's potentially been put out of the game for still obscured reasons, but probably has usable data, then we turn up..." her voice tailed off for moment, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place, "...and the competition is on us immediately as well."
Her partner stiffened slightly at that. "I still think that leak could have come from anywhere."
"For both of us? Getting our marching orders from different people at different times?"
"We've had a few extra decades practise, but don't underestimate the Chinese."
"I'm not. Precisely the opposite in fact." She paused again, setting words in order. She shouldn't be having to push so hard, but it was her job to ensure no stone was left unturned, even the unpleasant ones, and Monty's eyes narrowed slightly, brow staying up, as she met her handler's gaze, a touch of testiness edging into her voice. "Zhang had Mary's mugshots, as well as yours, official mugshots, and she's been hiding well enough we've not seen her at all. You and I both know we have a fair record at stumbling over her, and you expect me to believe that is all mere coincidence? Or that Algy really did not follow procedure through petty mindedness? Tell me that doesn't seem at least a little off to you... Or did he make the call expecting to see exactly this happen? The Chinese already put one agent out of commission, so how quickly would they be able to shut us down?"
"Of course it seems on the nose, but if Algy suspected someone on this end was crooked, then why on earth would he tip them off? That's another argument for him not calling, all it would achieve is to hamper our search for the press."
"Who said his interest was in the press? Face it: Mary is on that, for all we know it was just bait to lure us in."
"In which case, why would Charlie put his own agent out of commission?"
"Who knows, maybe she found something she should not have. I think you just don't want to believe the indefatigable SIS may not be all Queen and Country at the top, or that your... father figure... might be willing to offer us up a sacrificial lambs tracing a leak that high up. We're neatly outside Vauxhall's structure, so sending us narrows the list of suspects to almost nil."
"Oh come on. I'm not so romantic as to believe anyone at Vauxhall doesn't have their own agenda, and you know it."
"So do me a favour and pay the idea a bit more than lip service. Then, take the requisite step back to be sure, and I mean really sure, of where you think people stand, because at some point I may just have to stake your life on that decision, and I don't want to be doing so on anything less than a certainty."
"Nothing we do is a certainty."
"No, but that's never been resultant of any woolliness on our end."
Silence and, taking a breath, Monty forced her stony expression to melt into a benign smile as her partner backed away a step, arm moving automatically to wrap across her shoulders as he shuffled to her flank, voice remaining low.
"Be that as it may, the immediate issue is we want to keep tailing Mary, and I think it best to avoid any of Zhang's cronies tagging along. Until we know where everyone stands, the less he has to go on about our interest in her the better."
"I've suddenly the nastiest suspicion he knows more than we do on that front anyway."
Leaning back into her partner's grasp as befitted their charade, the girl's gaze turned to stare out the window opposite, watching as station after station screeched past, train taking on or disgorging passengers as it went. So far her mark had not moved, shuffled left and right to avoid new arrivals, but otherwise remained immobile. That, however, could not last forever and, seeing as her conversation with Jethro appeared well and truly over for the time being, she hauled herself up, shifting to stand instead by one of the carriage's central poles, giving easier access to either door. Momentarily her partner joined her, grasping cool metal also as darkness descended around them, transport rattling its way into Beacon Hill Tunnel.
Next stop: Kowloon.
A quick check confirmed John also remained in place, and she paused at that. Of course if Charlie or someone close to him really were crooked, it threw doubt on to whom their tails belonged as well. For all she knew now, those could be just as easily the SIS keeping an eye on fresh competitors as the Autumn Orchid watching its own turf, or a mix of both. That said, this one had been holding photos of them and Mary, so presumably he was either one of Zhang's, or the SIS were as suspicious their own as they were of everyone else.
Light crept into the carriage once more, fading from afternoon's gold in gathering dusk, and the young agent turned an eye once again to their mark as another platform slid in beside the car.
The key to ascertaining whom John, and thus anyone he had rotated with, worked for, would be discovering where Mary fell in the whole equation.
Which made it all the more critical they not lose her now.
Doors slid shut, and the train started rolling again, Monty finding herself suddenly pressed closer to her handler in the crush of people as they entered city rush hour proper. That was going to make things difficult, and she was once again relying on Jethro to keep her apprised of the situation. If she were Mary, she would want to make a move here, and soon, there could only be one or two stations left. At that thought, eyes flicked up to the board above the door, confirming their next stop as Mong Kok East. So it was that, or try shake them in Hung Hom.
Soon the train was slowing again, and the young agent let her attention wander toward her quarry as doors slid open, passengers flooding out onto the platform beyond, last dregs trickling away to reveal Mary still in place.
Around, the car began to fill again. So, Hung Hom it...
Suddenly, the woman bolted for the door, ducking below head height, melting into the front line of boarding commuters. Jethro had apparently seen it too and, dropping a shoulder, he cut a path through the human tide surging into their space, one hand grasping Monty's to tow her behind. Standing in the open entrance, jostled back and forth by those pouring in, he looked around, and the girl pulled in closer.
"You see her?"
"No, too crowded... for all we know yet she's back in the bloody carriage." He paused, and she felt his eyes swing downward. "I'll stay with the train, you cover the station."
Not bothering to respond, the cyborg ducked into the oncoming swarm, dancing through its torrent toward the exit. Not an ideal plan, not in this new, even more dangerous, climate, but they couldn't afford to have Mary disappear on them again.
The throng was starting to lighten now, those filtering through the main gate given a brief respite, before joining the platform's crush and, ahead, she caught sight of a swaying black ponytail, anchored inches above surrounding heads. That didn't count for much here, but the glimpsed outfit matched also: loose cotton shirt, cargo shorts and light walking boots. Practical, if a little out of place, and she hurried off in pursuit.
The agent was moving quickly however, likely trying to put distance on any tail coming off the platform, and the trailing girl found herself riding the line between moving fast and appearing unusually rushed, long legs striding forward to eat up the interceding gap. She would need to gain all the ground she could too as Mary reached exit gates, taking the opportunity to look back while her ticket was collected.
Monty stifled a wince, nowhere to conceal herself here, and she stepped out farther, own ticket being extracted from a pocket. The less ground her target put on here the better her chances of maintaining contact... and the more options available for the next juggle. No way would the other agent return to wherever she was hiding with a tail still visibly in pursuit, and options to solve that could only be a good thing.
Speaking of tails.
Arriving at the gate herself, Monty was relieved of her single pass and, following her mark's lead, used the opportunity to steal a glance astern. It wasn't much, but faces became familiar over time, and it was enough to pick John's features being carried along in her wake.
Setting off again through clear departure lanes she reacquired Mary, making a beeline for the station exit into Grand Century Plaza, glass fronted shops just visible beyond. Glass was good, glass could be seen through, and it reflected, which added an extra tool to her arsenal. Somewhere though she was also going to need to get rid of John, not just track him and, more worryingly, the longer he stayed with her, the more certain he would become of her intent: two bits of information for the price of one.
The longer he followed her.
Despite adrenaline coursing through her, the girl suppressed a shiver. First the more brazen attitude of their perpetual shadows, and now another break from the norm. Until now, Zhang's cronies had always prioritised trailing Jethro, but here one was, keeping with her instead. That was twice now, two deviations from their previous pattern. Two, of course, could still be coincidence, for all she knew John had decided Mary more likely to have disembarked the train and acted accordingly, but it was still enough to put her on edge. Something was changing, and she was damned if she knew what. She would have to bend Jethro's ear when she got back. Presuming he would listen this time of course.
Ahead, her mark was stepping onto an escalator, momentarily hemmed in to ascend amongst its crush of passengers and, slender frame and apparent youth working to her advantage, the girl gained ground, threading between close pressed riders.
Slipping off the top, she used the shop front ahead to check her tail once more. John was suffering the same predicament Mary had, stuck with the crowd, phone once more pressed against his ear, and another chill ran through her. Third option: Mary and John, whoever they worked for, were also in cahoots. Somehow the other agent had found them to begin with and, for all she knew, she was now being led into a trap...
Ahead, the woman was striding out between stores, onto a raised pedestrian walkway, pushing west across the road below toward clustered, decrepit, high-rises.
...and Mong Kok, with its crowds and labyrinthine alleys, would be the perfect place to set it.
For now though she had it slightly easier, course cutting a dead straight line above the road and by sprawling high school grounds beyond, pushing against homeward bound commuters. Below, sports fields remained dark, highlighting bright signage ahead in the deepening evening and, taking one more look to reconfirm John's presence, she followed her quarry down stairs and into bustling streets.
The change was almost instant, buffered only by inrushing people toward the station entrance, and then, noise, chaos. In front, Mary was rapidly disappearing into human overflow from packed footpaths, forcing Monty to try and close the gap farther. That was no mean feat however, constant dance to avoid passersby slowing progress, the woman ahead using her height and elbows to forge a route.
A shop window let the girl check on her own pursuer again, phone still to his ear, as Mary disappeared down a side street, packed with open stalls under flashing neon.
If anything, she was losing ground.
Rounding onto the same stretch of tarmac, she was just in time to see the other agent cut down an even narrower passage, between crumbling, faded apartment blocks. That was good, it looked quieter, she might have the chance to close again but, after that... after that she had to find some better solution, or risk falling out of contact completely. If she could get amongst the hanging signs she would have a chance of keeping up, and staying hidden, hopefully without giving too much away.
Eyes raising, a small smile flashed across her lips.
Covering one building front, bamboo scaffold ran off down the same passage, lower levels still devoid of shade cloth protection, revealing the detritus of construction scattered across wooden decking. If that alley were quiet as she hoped, it would give her a chance to rise above the melee.
She had to get there first though.
Pushing forward through evening shoppers, the young spy finally ducked into semi-darkness, just in time to watch her mark disappear out the path's far end, silhouetted briefly against street lighting beyond. She would need to work fast...
The blow came out of nowhere, slamming into her side and sending her staggering. Catching herself, Monty rounded to see John arrive at the alley's entry, phone now gone, joining a smaller figure, her apparent assailant. Peering forward against bright lamps, recognition dawned: Lau, the chauffeur from their first day, cap and gloves now gone, but black suit still intact.
So it was a trap. Too late now though, this was a good ambush point... for anyone other than herself that was. She could leave these two behind here as well.
Taking another pace back, the girl turned, running one step to leap upward, grabbing at bamboo framing. Not too powerful, not like a cyborg...
A hand closed around her ankle to haul back down, reaching fingers sliding by timber just above, safety snatched beyond her grasp. Landing awkwardly on one leg, she used the momentum to twist free, tumbling back into a fighting stance and retreating another pace, eyes darting around the area. The chauffeur must have moved fast, very fast. No time to grab her pistol then, and not much to work with: a few small stores, closed and with their merchandise locked in cages, another stack of bamboo behind her, traffic cones marking its extremities.
She needed to get clear. Keep them talking.
Backing away another step, Monty turned her attention to the closer man, Lau, cocking an eyebrow, voice carefully deadpan. "Not so polite now, I take it."
The answer was a small, wintry, smile. "Not so polite, no."
"Why? Did I do something wrong?"
Another cautious step back.
"Nothing in you control, but we see you have other follower. No advantage in sharing, so we bring you in now to... talk."
"Could be a rather single sided conversation." The cocked eyebrow remained but, behind it, her mind went into overdrive: so, Zhang was indeed after the press, and Mary, by that at least, was not in cahoots with them, which meant...
Thoughts for other times. Lau was speaking again.
"At start maybe, but you join in soon enough."
"Patience is not one of your boss's virtues, I presume."
Still finishing her sentence, the cyborg shuffled one more pace rearwards, bringing her next to the stack of bamboo. That would do it.
Face not changing, she suddenly ducked sideways, whipping a traffic cone toward her assailants. Continuing the pirouette, fingers clutched around a long pole, sending it also skimming their direction endways. That was enough to complete the turn, just in time to see Lau arc around the projectile's path, charging in from her flank. Another length of bamboo was thrust forward to block his advance and he slammed into it, inertia doing its job, and Monty lifted, pushing hard to send him sprawling against the opposite wall.
That was all she needed.
Farther back, John was already righting himself, having seemingly caught a previous missile.
Forget Mary, she was gone. Just get away, and fast.
Leaping up, the girl grabbed scaffold above, this time scrambling onto rough wooden planks running its length. Hauling herself upright, she managed two steps before timber beneath her feet jerked forward, throwing her balance as the whole thing tilted sickeningly. Lightning fast reflexes were only just enough to send her sprawling across its neighbour as the far end crashed to the street below, vibrations trembling up through the structure, setting hanging concrete pails rattling.
Crawling upright, she could see John, starting to ascend the impromptu access. If John was there though...
Monty looked up, just in time to see Lau's inbound foot and, connecting with her chin, it sent her tumbling backward to land again on her rear. Not slowing, the Chinese agent continued to advance, swinging around to deliver another kick, and she reached up, fingers closing on the first object they encountered, bringing the bucket frantically through to intercept his shoe with a resounding clang. The impact was enough to force the handle out of her grasp, both hands disappearing inside its steel shell to parry another kick, and another.
John's head was visible now, appearing by her hip and, deflecting the flurry's next blow, the cyborg's fists continued their arc, dented metal ploughing into his temple and sending him tumbling to the ground below, not moving, her improvised shield following behind.
Good, now she only had one to deal with.
In front, Lau's eyes also followed his colleague's descent, but only for a moment, before closing with renewed fury, leather soled heel slamming down between Monty's suddenly split legs. That was opening enough for her however. Both hands clamped around the presented ankle, lifting and twisting to send its owner staggering back, buying enough space to return to her feet while the chauffeur righted himself.
Steady again, the Chinese agent set hard eyes on her. "Your boyfriend not even SIS anymore, nothing to gain here, and this our city now. Why you bother fight? Why not leave?"
"Reasons."
Conversation over, and her opponent darted forward once more. The first blow she dodged, twisting and leaning back to let it slide past her chest, right into the path of the second as it connected hard in her side. For any normal human that would have meant broken ribs, or worse. Even then it was still enough to send her reeling again, barely maintaining balance on her precarious perch, remembering to let out a grunt of pain... not difficult with the wind knocked out of one. Lau might be small, but he hit like a freight train.
Gulping down another breath, the girl continued to gag, making a show of her apparent injury, and she saw the man pull off his jacket, throwing it to one side, along with the tie to leave just white shirt sleeves, cuffs held back by silver upper-arm garters. Taking a moment to straighten the latter, he advanced again and, still keeled over, Monty backed away in kind.
Behind her, the platform widened out on untouched decking, ladder to the next level resting on more rough wooden planks.
Her opponent was closer now, darting in, taking the bait, but she was ready this time, ducking under his first blow to drive an elbow into his ribcage, or at least try to. Suddenly he wasn't there, twisting out of the way with his punch's follow through, trailing knee coming up to send her bouncing back against bamboo poles.
Ricocheting off the trembling structure, Monty landed flat with a thud. She was on the wider section now and, scrabbling forward before Lau could respond, grabbed the single plank he remained atop, lifting and tipping, her opponent crashing from it onto the board previously brought down. By miracle or skill he caught on, scrambling immediately upward, and she dove for the ladder.
She almost made it.
Reaching the top rung its support was torn from under her, and she leapt desperately aside, feeling something crunch in her pocket as she landed heavily against the flooring edge, whipping feet clear as the ladder clattered toward the street.
Keep moving. Get away.
Rolling upright she stepped sideways, onto bamboo poles hanging out over tarmac below. Beginning to climb she felt a hand close around her foot once more and, looking down, found Lau grinning as he began to pull. Her first kick missed, opponent swivelling clear as she shook wildly to try and dislodge him, and she struck again, connecting only with thin air.
No good, he was too low.
Letting go of the scaffold above, Monty dropped, caught leg bending as she came, bringing the other booted foot in range to swing at her assailant's head. Seemingly he had not expected her to slip so soon, and her toe connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling backwards as she slammed awkwardly into the short diagonal member below. Feeling its bindings give under the impact, a hand shot out to grab the upright beside, and she hauled herself back onto more solid decking.
The Chinese agent was getting up too now. She needed an advantage, fast.
Leaning out, she grasped the dislodged diagonal, yanking hard at it. Once, twice... On the third tug, damaged bindings gave way, and she hauled backward, swinging it around to meet Lau's charge. He was ready this time however, ducking under, and it was all she could do to dodge his next strike, dropping to her knees as he skidded by. Turning, she brought the pole up and around to intercept the next attack as his heel came crashing down toward her shoulder.
Bamboo flexed in her hands, twanging under the strain, but he was off balance now, and lifting she sent him staggering backwards. Pushing him away the pole dropped, and Monty lunged forward, ramming it endways into his sternum, sending him crashing through the apartment window behind in a shower of broken glass.
Hurling the improvised weapon after her opponent for good measure, the girl stepped back out into open scaffold, climbing monkey-like up an outer pole, one storey, two, above the first layer of signs, before dropping back onto more wooden decking to glance down. Lau was behind again, coming up after her, but she had distance on him now.
Running down the building's length she swung out its end, once more ascending rapidly on swaying framework, one hand over the other, blocked from view by the bright neon canopy below. Reaching its zenith, she threw herself out across the alley, catching crumbling concrete balustrade opposite, hauling herself onto it, before leaping again and rolling onto the roof.
Safely on level ground now, she ran, bounding across the next gap to hit the far building in a roll, then back up into her loping jog. Not stopping, Monty reached into her pocket, extracting the phone there, and growled. Shattered, its screen a spider's web of cracks and crazing. Useless.
Be that as it may, she had to warn Jethro. She had to find a pay phone, and fast.
Pushing in through the hotel suite door, Jethro hung a 'do not disturb' sign outside, before letting it shut and setting the dead bolt behind himself. Right now, he would prefer a bit more warning as to who might want to come in, and that combination would at least rule out any law abiding citizens.
Of course, there were other uninvited guests inside the rooms already, the presence of which rather marred an otherwise luxurious, relaxing ambience. However, if Zhang were going to stop pretending his people could not be seen, then there was no reason to continue pretending the fratello's private conversations were, indeed, private.
First things first though and, walking down the short entry corridor, he took its right fork, dropping phone and pistol on the bed before traipsing back to the adjoining bathroom, closing the toilet door behind.
It would be nice to talk freely again, and certainly Monty wouldn't mind.
Monty.
No joy finding Mary on the train. There were few places to hide in a public rail car, and he had walked those she could have reached prior to arriving at Hung Hom, which meant she must have disembarked at Mong Kok East. Hopefully Monty would be able to tail her back to wherever she was hiding.
Of course, John had left the train with them, which was... different, and more than a little concerning. The change of tactics suggested something was afoot, enough to suddenly wish he had not split the fratello up.
No, too big of a gamble... but that's not really why you're worried, is it my lad?
Re-zipping his fly, the handler flushed the toilet, pausing a moment to place its seat back down.
No, that wasn't why he was worried, his partner could take care of herself.
'Partner', when had he started referring to her as such? Too long ago to accurately remember for sure, and now... and now even he was sometimes a bit hazy as to what exactly was meant by it.
He shook himself at that, finishing washing hands before bending down to splash cool water on his face, letting its touch help clear his head. Drying off, he leaned forward again over the 'his' side sink, palms resting on its marble plinth to stare into the mirror.
So what do you actually mean by that?
Automatically, eyes flicked sideways to the 'hers' bench top and its meagre display of possessions: Monty's toothbrush, her sparse cosmetics kit, a bottle of Bvlgari perfume, still half full. In the drawer below would be her conditioning pills, disguised as birth control medication in their tightly patterned blister packs.
Don't get distracted, get back to work.
Sighing, the former British agent withdrew one of the under-sink stools, climbing up on its satin cushion to reach inside an air conditioning vent, extracting the tiny bug planted inside. It wasn't much to look at, a battery, microphone and small transmitter, shrink-wrapped into plastic sleeving. He'd get the lot before destroying them.
Clambering down again, his eyes fell once more on Monty's drawer. Unlike other handlers, he'd never felt required to check on her medication intake, not since their first stint on the road together. No need to, he had faith enough in her... and that was just it wasn't it? He had faith in her. She was competent and astute... intelligent, sharp... mature. He trusted her, and her judgement, probably more so than he had anyone before, and her opinion mattered.
So was he really looking at the world through rose coloured glasses? Letting old loyalties get in the way of making a properly cold assessment of the situation? He didn't like to think so but...
...but at the very least, he probably owed her an apology.
Picking up the little listening device, Jethro walked back through the bedroom, still pensive, missing its king mattress entirely to slip between the dividing wardrobe-cum-kitchenette and entryway, into the lounge. Placing his trophy on light coffee table timber, the spy lifted a couch cushion to retrieve another from beneath, before beginning to ferret around down the heavy, bugged, design book's spine, trying to dislodge the transmitter glued there.
So, do as his partner instructed, take a step back: could it be that Algy was using him to ferret out rot in the Far East Station? He, neither of them in fact, had ever gotten along with Charlie Wilkes, but Monty had a point: like or dislike, Algernon, in contrast to his opposite, was too pragmatic, too shrewd, to allow pettiness in the way of professionalism. Without good reason to avoid that call, as simple procedure or as bait, Charlie would have known they were coming... which meant his next problem was deciding the more likely scenario.
Finally, the concealed bug came free, a welcome distraction from that subsequent puzzle, and he slid it from the book, placing it with its brethren: one more to go, in the bedroom.
Pausing however, he sauntered instead to their small breakfast table, picking up the iPod Touch there, slapping it against his hand in thought. It was entirely useable as a listening device, too usable to ignore, so what to do about it? Destroying hotel property was not really his style; leave that variety of antics to the rock gods and bored heiresses. Feasibly it could simply be wiped, or run out of battery, though that would mean hiding it from the hotel staff, and would make controlling the suite's, well, everything, somewhat less convenient.
From the bedroom his phone rang and, iPod still in hand, he walked quickly through, picking it up to inspect the screen. The number was not one he recognised and, despite himself, his heart jumped a beat: that had to be Monty, her phone disguising itself as another nearby. Calling though was unusual, if she was calling, it must be urgent...
He didn't get a chance to finish the thought.
A loud bang reverberated through the room, setting the door vibrating in its frame and halting his thumb on its way to answer. That wasn't the kind of hit any human could land on their own, and it was followed by another, setting the wood shaking once more: battering ram.
Silencing and dumping the phone in a pocket, Jethro swept up his gun, diving for the bathroom. Whoever was coming through, it was doubtful he could successfully fight them, and here offered the closest concealment to the exit. Crouched under sinks by the bedroom dividing wall, he picked up the Touch, dousing lights and placed it face down next to him.
Another impact, accompanied by a crack of wood starting to give way. The Upper House was expensive, fit out reflective of that in its solidarity, but it was not going to resist a sustained assault for long. One more hit would probably see to the breaching.
That gave him a little time though.
Reaching up, Jethro slid open the drawer above, feeling around inside to lift out Monty's conditioning medication and jam its skinny box into a pocket. If they wanted to stay, she was going to need it. In fact, even if they wanted to leave, getting out of Hong Kong was likely to be time consuming enough.
Another impact, then crash from the apartment's hall end as whoever was out there finally broke through, followed by torch beams cutting into darkness and pounding feet. Two lights disappeared, probably into the lounge, two remaining to bounce off panoramic glass bedroom windows. One of those went right past, and he could see the shadowy figure silhouetted against its reflection. The other...
A gun fore end appeared above his head, light strapped to its underside and, lifting the Touch, he jammed a thumb down on its screen, flashing every light in the room on to full power and setting the stereo blaring. It wasn't much of a distraction, but it was all he had, and the handler rose, bringing his P230 up to fire point blank into the man before him, rounds missing soft body armour to enter under his jaw.
Continuing his movement, Jethro pushed the corpse away, heaving it at the room's other occupant and charged for the exit, flinging himself low as those in the lounge spun to follow, sending suppressed fire scything across the wall above. Then he was gone, rolling into the hallway, out of their line of sight.
First order of business: get out of this bloody bullet chute.
Racing for the closest fire door, still open, he crashed through, shouts echoing across the stairwell beyond as he thundered downward. His assailants would not be far behind and, hitting the next landing, the spy burst out onto its adjoining floor. That would keep him out of their crosshairs for a few more seconds, and he sprinted away, back toward the hotel's central atrium, the core from which lines of rooms radiated.
Skidding around the corridor end, he made for the next spoke as more shouting erupted to his rear. No shots though, even the Chinese Military would have to watch their fire now and, while he was no cyborg, he was going to move faster than they could in full kit... whatever aspersions Ferro might care to cast upon his fitness.
The next fire escape gave him three more storeys before boots, smashing through the door above, forced another exit, tumbling out into more pristine corridor as the first round zinged off concrete by his feet. Only one more to go and he would be at the atrium's base. From there... who knew, the building below belonged to someone else, sealed off from the hotel, so once in a stairwell he would have to somehow fight his way down the remaining thirty-eight levels. Not an attractive prospect.
He could see the atrium's floor ahead now, water feature and all and, on the opposite wall, a storey below, lift doors were opening, one of the staff ushering a family of new guests out. A lift would solve so many problems, bar the minor one of getting down to it in time.
The balcony rail was approaching fast, and he probably still had a few spare seconds.
Well, it wasn't like he'd ever be welcome back here again anyway... pity.
Reaching the balustrade he slowed, clambering over. A little higher than he would have liked, perhaps if he...
There was a shout, and he glanced around to see the three remaining commandos charging into the corridor, submachine guns raised.
Too late.
Leaping out the handler dropped, landing with an almighty splash in the shallow pool below, sending a tidal wave of water arcing ahead as he rolled to absorb the impact, drowning out the new arrivals' shocked shrieks. Then he was up again, legs lifted high out of the dragging pond until, encountering dry land once more, he charged forward as a fresh clutch of bullets slammed into the floor behind retreating heels.
The lift doors were closing now, and this time it was the concierge's turn to shout as the soaked man shoved him aside, squeezing through just as they slammed shut. Turning, Jethro hammered the lobby button, before slumping onto carpet in the middle of a growing puddle.
Monty, he had to warn Monty.
Digging in a pocket he extracted his phone, and swore: blank, drowned by the architecture. Resisting an urge to throw it across the car in frustration, the spy instead slipped it back into his sodden suit, too much data on there to leave lying around.
The lift counter didn't move for levels the hotel didn't own, but the lobby had to be arriving soon. Standing, he checked his pistol and partner's medication were still firmly secured, the latter's box turning slowly to a soggy mush. Plan from here: get out, then find a pay phone and change of clothes, whichever came first. Going out the front would draw too much attention, again, so make for a back exit.
The lift dinged, doors sliding open to reveal another waiting party of arrivals, their expressions melting into horror as his appearance registered. Straightening his tie, Jethro sauntered past, sparing a bland look for disbelieving faces.
"Water feature wetness inspection, carry on."
Squelching off down a side passage, he ensured he was out of sight, then hightailed for the nearest fire exit. Problem was, he now didn't know where, presumably Zhang's, men were and, reaching the door, he slowed, listening hard. Nothing audible from its far side, but the material was thick and, cautiously, he edged it ajar, just slightly, enough to glimpse the red extinguisher beyond, hung on the wall for easy access.
Suddenly, bouncing from concrete walls, came the clack of a firearm being raised, and he rammed the panel open, slamming it into the man behind's gun, knocking its barrel sideways. The commando was quick though, pivoting with the blow, bringing his weapon back to bear, and the handler continued his charge, ducking under the barrel to sweep it up, shots climbing and echoing behind as he forced its owner back against steel stairwell railing. Wrestling forward, he got a hand up to the bullpup's stock, dropping its magazine free and hurling it away.
This close his opponent's stature was visibly smaller and, pressing his advantage, the SWA agent kept pushing, bending him farther backward over the rail as the man fought to stay grounded.
The punch landed in his stomach like a hammer, springing gripping fingers open, doubling him over, and his victim leapt forward, immediately landing a second hit, forcing the spy back into striking distance for a powerful kick which sent him sprawling across ascending steps.
Coughing, Jethro rolled over to find his assailant fumbling for a fresh magazine. No time, and rising, he collected the fire extinguisher, tearing its pin out on the way.
The magazine seated home, submachine gun coming up, and Jethro clamped the extinguisher trigger closed. White powder erupted from its nozzle, saturating the airspace to blank his opponent from view, and he ducked sideways, charging forward as fire scythed blindly through where he had stood. Still nothing visible and, cutting back toward where those shots had come from he rose again, swinging the heavy tank hard, cricket style. Somewhere in that cloud, climbing metal met flesh, accompanied by a scream of pain, cut off as its utterer tumbled backward, bouncing away to the crunch of shattering bone.
Emerging beneath the powder cloud, gun once more in hand, he found the Autumn Orchid's man slumped on the next landing, back to hard concrete, jaw dangling and leg bent far askew. Crouching beside, the handler checked for a pulse. It was there, but weak... out cold, no threat.
No time to search the body either and, standing, he dumped his improvised weapon in the unconscious commando's lap for good measure, before racing downward again.
Pushing the ground level fire exit ajar, Jethro looked around cautiously, scanning wide roadway outside as it swept down toward the bay. It looked clear, for now and, stepping out, he sauntered casually toward the kerb, one hand up to hail a taxi as it rolled down patched tarmac. Seeing it start to slow, he lowered the arm, brushing at its sleeve, fingers coming away coated in caked on powder: the muddy lovechild of water and fire retardant.
Pity, he had liked this suit too.
Taxi halting, he opened a rear door, sliding into the seat and hauling it shut before the driver could object to his appearance.
"Wan Chai, please, and..."
His pistol was out before he had even consciously thought about the movement, held low to aim at the cabbie through her seatback.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Turning slowly from behind the wheel, 'Mary Christmas' made a calming gesture, hands held up slightly to show they were empty, speaking carefully. "Steady... we're on the same side this time around, Mr. Blacker. Your girlfriend found trouble in Mong Kok, I thought you might too."
His eyes narrowed. "And you didn't help her?"
"Couldn't, not with the Chinese so close."
The agent's mind raced, grip tightening on his little Sig. She had seen Monty in strife, and God knew what sort of strife, then abandoned her. That did not do much to endear the woman greatly to him, and he forced down the little voice in the back of his head saying he would have done the same wearing her shoes...
...and she was at least being honest with him... probably.
That thought he pushed aside. Endeared or no, trustworthy or no, Mary was here, now, and he was already in the cab.
In the distance, he could hear sirens approaching.
"Did she get away?"
"I couldn't tell you. Sorry."
Gun remaining where it was, he nodded slowly, voice still cold, dripping with suspicion. "Alright, I accept your offer. Find me a pay phone."