SIX DEGREES
A Gunslinger Girl fanfiction, based on works by Yu Aida.
Chapter 08|Hidden Worlds
Street noise echoing from the alley's mouth, Jethro jammed a finger in one ear, phone pressed hard to the other until its ring degenerated into the monotonous beep of a disconnected line.
No joy, again.
Calling Monty a second time was pushing his luck, but he was damned if he was not going to try and, pausing for one more cycle, he smacked the receiver back onto its bracket with a growl of frustration.
Taking a juddering breath, he let it out, slowly. Settle down. This wasn't the first time they had been separated, and it was certainly unlikely to be the last.
But it was the first time that separation had been quite so unexpected, or absolute.
Get a grip my lad.
Monty was smart, and savvy. If there was even the slightest chance of evading Zhang's clutches she would, and besides, it was not like they were short contingency plans. For all he knew his partner's phone had simply been damaged in her flight, just like his, and there were plenty of reasons she might not answer.
Which was not actually all that comforting.
One more try. He would need to make it quick though, and he reached for the handset once more.
That he had barely lifted from its cradle however when a voice interrupted him. "Leave it, we need to get back across the harbour before the Chinese recover from missing you."
Phone still raised, the spy turned to where Mary Christmas kept watch at the alley's entrance, peering from darkened depths onto the Wan Chai laneway beyond. She hadn't turned to speak, but her tone suggested this was not a matter up for debate.
"We'll get you a burner on the Kowloon side, and you can call your girlfriend to your heart's content then."
She was right too. Between locating a suitably coin-driven payphone and finding a fresh change of clothes for himself, they had given Zhang far too great of a head start: time already to close off the few means available to cross Victoria Harbour, locking down routes of escape.
A cold twist in the base of his stomach accompanying the motion, Jethro reluctantly replaced the receiver, moving briskly back toward the alley entrance, suit now traded for chinos and a short sleeved, button up shirt, a light blue blazer hiding the shoulder holster salvaged from his previous outfit. Try as he might though, white, corrosive, fire retardant powder still clumped together in dark brown hair, marking him for his recent exploits, an extra identifier atop already distinctive European features.
In that latter regard he was not Robinson Crusoe either.
Approaching his new associate, the spy took a moment to study her, backlit by restaurant windows beyond. Her predicament was not quite so pronounced as his, still tall compared to the local population, but with black hair and exotic eyes which would make her less immediately conspicuous, at least until someone noticed the ice blue irises.
"That might not be an errand I can run, at least for a few days."
Her reply was quick coming. "No, probably not."
Conversation halting there, the pair stepped together onto the narrow street beyond, moving quickly to where their taxi squatted before a small restaurant, hazards strobing against crowds meandering past under dim, yellow lamps. Climbing into vinyl rear seating, he let Mary take the driver's position, that latter speaking as she began to nose the Toyota Crown out through pressing bodies.
"I'm using a safe house in Mong Kok. It might be best if you lay low there."
Jethro's eyes narrowed. "Safe for you? Or safe for me as well?"
"For both of us, I meant it when I said we're on the same side this time, whether you believe me or not... though I'm sure you've worked out I'm not exactly helping on the pure goodness of my heart."
"I would be more worried if you claimed otherwise."
"If it helps any, this particular apartment does not belong to Station H."
Pausing, he let eyes rest on the driver, evaluating her statement. That sounded like bait being trolled before the fish's nose. Two could play that game though, and he stifled a snort as he contemplated his next words: good thing Monty was not here, he'd never hear the end of it. "It might a little, I'm not entirely sure how far I trust the local office right now."
In the rear view mirror, he saw Mary glance toward him. "Smart man."
"A private setup then?"
"Of sorts... provided courtesy of Panama."
Another halt, half a heartbeat's silence.
"Is that so?"
"It is."
The conversation tailed off again, and the spy found himself once more studying the back of the British agent's head: sounded like Algy had more than one finger in this particular pie. That involvement, if true, made him feel slightly better... but it also opened up a whole new can of worms regarding the Hong Kong branch's position.
Monty may have been on the money after all.
At that thought the sickening, sinking, feeling made its presence recognised again. If he were honest, even had Mary been setting him up, he would still have used her to get across the water and back to Mong Kok. A poor choice, but public transport was far too risky, too easily monitored, and the longer he waited the more eyes would be available to watch it. The taxi kept him obscured from those, enough that Zhang may even believe him still seconded on Hong Kong Island. That would have been a fine option too, except Monty most likely remained on the mainland.
She would be okay, he just needed to locate her and, were he to manage that, Mong Kok was the place to start. The question was where he went after arriving.
That thought brought another sick turn of his stomach, not a sensation he was enjoying.
Careful: one bridge at a time.
It was a new one though. People came and went, often in much worse circumstances than this, and few had been missed once gone. Certainly none had left such a hole in his world with their absence, one the very thought of which set him on edge.
Settle down, think through it, find a starting point. He could get Mary to show him where his girl had been last sighted... but he couldn't very well go wandering around the streets, not just yet. That would take time. Not a useful answer then, not one that doused the gut churning coldness, nor banished its accompanying sensation of rising despair. That he had to keep a lid on, letting it get the better of him helped no-one.
But nor did sitting on his hands.
"Hey, are you listening?"
Mary's words interrupted his thoughts.
"Sorry, say again?"
"I said: I'll need what you have on the Italians' forging operation. I can't use you to do legwork anymore, so we had better pool resources and knowledge... unless of course you'd prefer the Chinese get a free run on US currency."
"Vesper's the better informed on that, my phone's had it, and her memory is younger."
Outside, buildings disappeared, traffic noise roaring in to fill the vacant sensory gap as they descended into one of the cross-harbour tunnels, and his current companion gave a derisive snort.
"I'm not going to ask how much younger, but I also suspect your memory isn't that bad either. This had best not be a ploy so I will go search for your girlfriend."
"Hardly, give me a bit of credit."
"I'm trying, but this is not Jethro Blacker as I was told to look for him. That Jethro Blacker was detached enough to wave a woman goodbye once she outlived her usefulness, maybe hang around long enough for the body bag to be carried away, if she were particularly lucky."
Beginning a retort, the handler paused, words dying in his mouth, and he changed tack.
"Then perhaps she's still useful."
No response, and Jethro turned his head to stare unseeingly out the window as the truth of what he had been about to say sunk in. Love was not an emotion going to find a comfortable outlet, and certainly not here, but the realisation of its presence also brought with it a strange kind of calm. Now he had a source for his unfamiliar worry, the twisting, sick sensation still there, but muted by a tangible cause for its existing.
Of course, that realisation brought its own, new, form of discomfiture.
That he trod heavily on, burying it deep, a problem for another time, his attention returning to the original puzzle. Having the cause was one thing, deciding how to resolve its symptom was another entirely. Mary was right, for the next few days he would not really be able to travel, and nor would her own movements be particularly free. Pre-arranged contingencies were all very well, but physical meeting points and dead drops required some level of mobility.
The first step then was making himself himself contactable, which meant acquiring a phone, and then trying to get through to Monty again. It was unlikely she had drowned hers like he had managed and, even if it was out of action, at the very least missed calls would give her a number to ring when she finally could, and there were options with the internet as well, should he get the chance.
The spy pushed those thoughts aside, attention returning to the outside world, taking in crowded Mong Kok tarmac under a fresh forest of bright signage. He had a plan now, something to do, no matter how minimal and, turning down a narrow street lined with tightly packed shops and restaurants, Mary brought their taxi to a squeaking halt.
Twisting in the driver's seat, the woman held out a pair of keys, motioning with her other hand toward a skinny entry, wedged between two shops, glass doors enclosing a space barely larger than the elevator at its end. "In there, room forty-two. I'll ditch this and join you. Was there anything you needed urgently?"
"Excepting a shower and gun cleaning kit? Not immediately, not that can't wait until tomorrow."
"Good, those I have already."
Checking his surrounds, Jethro let himself out into the milling throng, glancing back to see the red and silver cab crawl away as he moved quickly toward the apartment block's front doors. Twisting a corroded lock to swing back barred glazing, he called the lift, one careful eye remaining on the street reflected in its facia. No point in sending Mary out more than necessary, more exposure was the last thing any of them needed.
Tomorrow though, he could start searching... in earnest.
Seated beneath towering walls of phone cases and other assorted accessories, Monty let her attention wander across crowds passing before this dingy shop's open doorway. In the deep gloom at its rear she would be all but invisible to those streaming through bright sunlight outside, nestled in the gap between its back wall and counter. Behind that latter, between her and the public, the shop's proprietor busied himself over her mobile, a fresh screen being affixed to its faceplate, ruined predecessor dumped on the glass bench top, beside sheared cables and broken sensors, smashed taking the full brunt of her previous night's fall.
One thing about Hong Kong in general, and Mong Kok in particular: it was easy to get technology seen too, and seen too cheaply. That latter was no small concern either and, extracting her wallet, the girl dourly inspected its meagre contents. Normally well stocked, bribes, fees, and taxi fares of the previous day had depleted her cash reserves badly... and she dared not use a credit card or ATM.
Some problems could be solved without of course, her slender frame near enough the local standard that the beginnings of a new outfit had overnight been procured from rooftop and balcony washing lines: a loose, shear, sleeveless yellow blouse, and white shorts, forming a base to work from. Actual funds had needed to be spent on shoes however, as well as an engineer's cap and large sunglasses, white plastic frames and dark lenses helping obscure her western features. As a disguise it wasn't much, but it might be just enough to stymie casual identification, buying precious seconds to disappear.
Closing the wallet again, she slipped it away, stifling a yawn in the process. Of course, the downside of her thrifty, nocturnal, excursion meant sleep fell by the wayside... and she dared not buy a coffee until more pressing expenses had been met.
With the general quality of coffee found in Hong Kong so far though, she was at least not missing out on much.
But coffee was still coffee, and even she could not operate exhausted forever.
Unfortunately, repair money was also money in need of spending were she to harbour any designs on locating Jethro, and thus had to come first. Pay phones had brought no luck, his mobile returning out of range, in which case her next best chance was to ensure he could contact her given an opportunity. If he were still at large he certainly would, and even if he were not he would certainly try...
...and in that case, her next move was to liberate him as soon as physically possible.
Get him back, keep him safe, keep operating like he was free, check dead drops and run those contingency plans she could, make herself contactable; but work like he wasn't, keep searching, get herself in a position to find and extricate him from whatever bind necessary. Even if he had evaded Zhang she was still likely the more mobile, and she would have to go to him.
No need to rush though, she had time: her small supply of conditioning medication would last a week or so before needing to do something about it, meaning the immediate issue would be not letting his trail go cold. That left the real question as where to begin. Her partner should have been at the hotel by the time she called, so The Upper House would have made the ideal starting point, and even had he been intercepted before then she could work back. Unfortunately, it was on the other side of Victoria Harbour, that simple part of Hong Kong life suddenly a major barrier.
At the counter, the shop's owner had her iPhone's faceplate back together and, as she watched, he plugged it into existing componentry. Fiddling once more with another connector he tapped the home button, brining her unadorned lock screen blazing to life: success.
Seeing that display, Monty breathed a small sigh of relief: one less problem she need deal with. Now she could answer if called, and retained the phone's clandestine capabilities, at least in one direction... not to mention all the data it carried.
Screen still free of its chassis' fixings, the shop owner turned to her. "You want I change battery as well? Have new one, higher capacity."
The girl paused, that would certainly be nice, but...
"How much?"
"Fifteen, fitted."
...but money she could not afford right now, and she shook her head.
"Not this time."
Shrugging, her companion turned back to his task, beginning to secure connections more firmly into place.
Money, forget finding Jethro for a moment, coming up short limited her options to do so and, for that matter, she had no real urge to spend another night unfed, unwashed, and unsheltered either. Money could be organised though, she glanced again to the Mong Kok crowds passing through muggy heat outside, just not here. She needed less savvy targets, which could also be arranged. In fact, going somewhere touristy would probably be a good move, somewhere she stood out less: Tsim Sha Tsui should be rife for it.
Unfortunately, it did mean she would have to put up with tourists, but even they, very occasionally, had their uses.
Behind his counter, the shop's owner tensioned down the iPhone's last fastener and, receiving the device back, Monty checked its renewed display: full signal, that was good, though low on battery, which was less so. Her next grimace came upon presentation of the bill, not expensive by any means, but enough to just about clear out the last of her kitty and, paying up, she stepped back from the counter as the mobile buzzed.
Glancing down her heart jumped slightly. Missed calls, two unknown numbers, no message left... but both the previous night, and both sporting a Hong Kong country code. Those had to be Jethro, a free Jethro: no captor would have bothered taking him from one handset to another.
After that of course, who knew, but it was a start.
Pocketing her phone, the girl merged onto the street, melting into its crowd to be swept along with the current. A few hours around Kowloon's touristy foreshore, then the seafood market at Lei Yue Mun, once people started following their stomachs, should make for good pickings.
The seafood market, Tiger had a presence there...
Getting in contact would be a bit of a long shot admittedly, proxy bearing the container's location having found the fratello, not vice versa. However, she had been relying on Jethro's relationship previously and, with no idea how long it would take to find him, she needed to begin forging those connections herself, ASAP.
A grim expression flitted across her face: of course, if she wound up having time to track down Tiger, it was probably fair indication she was very much in need of his help anyway.
That said, as far as she could tell from their interactions to date, Tiger preferred to use people local to an area, those who were part of the landscape, so the messenger could not have travelled far, which at least gave her a rough idea where to start looking. If she found no luck in Lei Yue Mun, there was always the Cantonese barbeque in Wan Chai... though that would again mean crossing the harbour undetected. However, while she had not been part of the interaction there either, if the owner were even half awake she should be remembered.
Both were jobs for later though. For now, a few quiet hours spent in Tsim Sha Tsui should yield her enough income to at least find a meal and, following more shuffling bodies down a narrow backstreet, she headed for the water.
Above one narrow window, this tiny apartment's aged air conditioner scraped away, some loose internal component adding its light metallic rattle to the boxy contraption's chorus.
Glancing up from the computer and sheaves of paper spread across the kitchen table, Jethro eyed it irritably. It was annoying, really annoying; a disharmonious chord above Hong Kong's native lullaby the previous night, and a continuing irritation now. His sofa bed below remained folded out to fill any space between Mary's room and the table, jamming two chairs against its opposite edge, rendering them unusable. By way of mitigation, one had been moved around to face the wall, offered a less than stunning view of peeling 70's graphical paper in the gap between barred glass panes. It was an imperfect solution, any person there blocking access to a fridge and washing machine pushed up against plaster board behind, divorced from the tiny kitchen bench astern of his own position. That had no room for either, lurid lime green melamine surface dedicated to a sink and two-burner stove, a bathroom of equally Lilliputian dimensions wedged in on the wet wall's other face.
Leaving the rattling appliance, eyes dropped again to grimy glazing, peering through to decrepit buildings beyond, this corner apartment affording a view diagonally down into cluttered streets, albeit one crisscrossed by rusting signs, washing lines, and sagging power cables. All told, Mary's safehouse was not exactly the height of luxury, but then options were limited should an agent want to keep expenses under the bureaucratic radar.
And he had certainly stayed in worse.
That brought a wry laugh. Here, crammed in among the poor of Sham Shui Po on Mong Kok's north western extremity, what Algy and Mary had pulled together was positively bourgeoisie, despite being barely large enough for one person. How it would be once Monty showed up as well he dreaded to contemplate.
Monty.
At that thought, he forced his attention back to the computer, screen displaying what SIS information had been made available to him regards the Padania's forging operation. He had been reading diligently too, though whether professionally, or simply as distraction, he was not sure. Some of it was new, most he had seen before, but it was not like he had much else to do. Using the machine to kick off any contingency plans would be dangerous, and who knew what data it would log though, he suspected, in his case the answer would be: all of it.
Still, he couldn't just sit by either and, opening the web browser, he clicked through to a faux telegram site, drafting a message for a Kowloon post office box. That option was at least devoid of human intermediaries to answer prying questions.
And he was still waiting on the tools to make himself contactable again.
A knock at the door jerked his attention around, heart jumping as it was followed by another, moment of hope quickly quashed as the knocker continued to sound out an all clear signal, just not the all clear he had been hoping for.
Shouldn't have got his hopes up, Monty had no way to find him yet.
But that didn't mean she couldn't, or wouldn't.
Exiting the browser again, communication remaining unsent, fingers closed instead around his Sig where it sat beside the laptop, freshly cleaned weapon lowering to hang by his flank as he walked over to the entry. Standing to one side he leant over, squinting briefly through the door's low-set peep hole.
Content with the picture its aperture portrayed, the spy stepped back, pistol shifting to his off hand, out of sight, as he drew back the chain and bolt. Finally twisting its handle and hefty deadlock above, he hauled the door just enough ajar to let Mary squeeze through, plastic shopping bags in each hand, pursued by distant sounds of apartment life beyond.
That was quickly muted behind thin wood as the door sealed shut again, and he set about re-securing it, one eye left to track his most recent ally. It was a term applied loosely but, on the surface, their current goals seemingly aligned, which probably meant everyone was playing nice, for the time being at least.
Monty could not get here quickly enough.
Sliding the last bolt home, he turned as Mary removed a compact Glock from inside her waist band, placing the chunky .40 pistol with its holster on the table, before dumping two of her bags unceremoniously on Jethro's bed, others spreading themselves over the table top.
"Those two are for you, apologies if it's not up to your usual sartorial standards."
"I'm sure it'll be fine, thank you." Pulling out clothes to lay them across light sheets - not an exciting collection, t-shirts and slacks, it would have been nice to have at least one suit... though she had apparently managed to find a set of knockoff Wayfarers - he continued. "You didn't get seen?"
"Not likely."
"Just asking."
All the same, he might find somewhere to watch the street for a bit later. Unfortunately, it was Mary's bedroom given the best frontage for that, but he could probably do some good from the kitchen table as well.
Now the other's features softened slightly. "I did spot one of my previous tails, I'm sure if you're chasing the press you'll have met Zhang by now, so one of his, but I ducked away before being noticed."
Nothing particularly surprising there, just confirmation of what he had already suspected. "He's a fun customer isn't he?"
"He is," opening the fridge, Mary began to empty groceries into its meagre depths, "it did mean I had to shy away from one appointment though, so sourcing your ammunition is going to be a mite trickier than expected."
He grimaced at that. The fratello's choice of the small 7.65mm round had been in part driven by its easy civilian availability, even in countries with strict firearms laws. However, buying across a counter as a responsible citizen, and trying to procure it as public enemy number one, were two entirely different stories.
"To be honest, I suspect we'll be seeing more action before this is all over, might be worth picking up something in a local flavour anyway. I don't know how you are on that front, but I have contacts we can use."
"Probably better sourcing through those than Station H... but leave it for a day or two, I don't want to be wandering around much in the near future."
Upturning the second bag assigned to him, Jethro watched as a pair of mobile phones, pursued by matching chargers, fell from it onto the bed's soft surface. Two identical bricks, both devoid of packaging, simple sticky labels denoting their price.
"Are these?"
"Yes."
Picking one up, the handler inspected it closer: basic keypad, writing he could not decipher emblazoned beneath the tiny screen. That didn't matter though, it was a working phone. Hopefully it would be charged.
Pocketing its twin as insurance, he held the remaining device aloft, turning to Mary again. "I'll be nipping out for a bit."
She nodded. "If you turn left from here you can cut across the entire block without ever touching the street, and there's a pedestrian bridge to the next over. It's a bit of a faff, but you can get there entirely above ground."
"Sounds perfect."
"I find it helps, just don't go getting seen and ruin it."
That, he decided, didn't warrant a response. Instead holstering his pistol, the former SIS agent slipped on his shoulder rig, unlined linen blazer following to cover its form. Pausing briefly, he also collected the newly supplied sunglasses, before once more starting to go through the door's sequence of bolts.
The corridor beyond was warm and humid, his forehead immediately beading with sweat in its dank atmosphere. For all its racket, the air conditioner would not likely be rested any time soon. Really it was too hot for the blazer, but he did not have an option there, just as poorly maintained lighting would make sunglasses more hindrance than help. Those were however also slipped on, plunging him into a dingy twilight, obscuring the worst of miss-matched paint and creeping mildew.
Heeding Mary's advice he turned left, frame melting into an antisocial slouch, hands jammed in pockets: don't touch me, don't talk to me. He was going to stick out like dogs bollocks anyway, especially here where few of the wealthy expat class ever set foot, so he might as well give people a reason to avoid him... maybe he should look to buying some cigarettes to complete the effect.
Space was at a premium in this area, buildings butted up against one another to pack as many bodies into as small of a footprint as possible and, true to Mary's word, he was able to move from one to another without glimpsing daylight. Universally poor ventilation kept the blocks' denizens out sight, those he did encounter glancing quickly away as he passed, sleeves now rolled up to give some relief from pressing, muggy, air.
On the upside, it was unlikely this neighbourhood would be topping Zhang's search list and, insofar as he understood it, since Handover control of the internal population fell more under the Ministry of State Security's auspice anyway, rather than China's military. If those two really were engaged in a turf war it should buy him a little leeway, any eyes seeded amongst the public reporting back to someone less directly interested in him.
Or course, if they were talking, he had had it.
As promised, an elevated walkway carried him to the next block, itself a near repeat of that just left. Hopefully the distance would be enough to put his phone onto a different tower and, making his way to its far side, he began to climb.
Doors were packed close along the last building's upper floor corridors, dirt cheap accommodation for one of the world's most affluent cities. On one flank an apartment entry swung ajar, wrenched off its hinges by some powerful force, and Jethro pushed through into the tiny, claustrophobic space beyond... or it would have been claustrophobic, had the previous owner not seemingly knocked out a wall, tacking a balcony of wood and weatherboard onto the ten-by-ten foot floor plan.
Stepping onto that rickety platform presented, the handler felt it creak alarmingly beneath him, a glance down bringing with it the realisation that the courtyard below was also not really a courtyard at all. Instead, low-rise buildings filled the gap, rooves dotted by squatter hovels, left behind in shadow as the city grew up around, the structure on which he stood just one of many similar constructions clinging to surrounding buildings. Inside, evening lights were just starting to come on, sweet scents of tropical damp tinged with ginger and five spice wafting from open windows. Sad, yes, but also not his problem and, closing the balcony door for some privacy, he extracted the phone Mary had bought, pressing the power button to bring its small screen to life.
The battery still indicating at least a quarter charge, he dialled Monty's number, before hesitating, thumb hovering over the call key: what if she didn't pick up, again? What did he do then?
Just get on with it.
Jamming down the button, he lifted the mobile to his ear. One ring, two...
"Hello?"
The voice was female, smooth British tones rounded at the edges, and relief flooded through him, taking with it the breath he had not realised he had been holding. Questions crashed through his mind: was she okay? Where was she? He stamped heavily on them, those would need to wait for a later date, and he instead forced his voice into a casual tone.
"Hi luv, I forgot to pick up Tiger Balm from the store while I was out, could you grab some on your way home?"
There was the briefest of pauses, but the reply was quick coming. "I think I can do that. I'm out and about myself, probably won't be back until six or seven-ish."
"That's fine, see you then..."
His voice tailed away, sentence's end catching in his throat and, dropping the phone from his ear, Jethro rang off, just managing to avoid ditching it over the precipice as he leaned forward against rusting railing, legs suddenly jelly. Monty was alive, and still free... at least for now. He could almost cry, the release of tension bringing with it an unexpected wave of exhaustion.
No time to enjoy the moment though, he had to get out of here. Turning the mobile off he pried its back away to remove the battery and, making an about face, slunk back into decrepit corridors. Now all he needed do was convince Mary to pinch another taxi.
Seated beneath a palm on Tsim Sha Tsui Promenade's low garden walls, Monty watched from behind dark glasses as the woman opposite stretched forward, trying to push a phone on the end of its long stick farther away, at the same time goading her family closer in shot before the sunset draped Hong Kong skyline. Two children in souvenir t-shirts, the elder probably just scraping the lower end of her teens, didn't move, their father instead squeezing them together with a sweaty paw, and the young agent gave an internal shake of her head. What induced, presumably fairly normal people, to imitate circus clowns the moment they set foot on foreign soil would forever boggle her, particularly when the place to which they had travelled was a populous centre. Surely in her daily life this woman, for example, did not carry a full-to-bursting rucksack, nor the man his bulging bum bag, wife now sliding that latter around his flabby hip to place the phone inside.
For starters, it made them just such huge targets.
Ushering his family ahead, the man began to wobble down the esplanade, perspiration covering his red face and, letting them get a few steps ahead, Monty closed her book, polishing off a can of energy drink in the process. She didn't much like being here, out in the open and exposed, not right now, and the book was not helping. Still, so long as no-one actually asked what the Chinese title translated to she would be fine, and tourist spots were still the best place to select targets.
This was, however, also not the best place to actually act.
Ambling along in her marks' wake as they bustled toward the guide book's next 'must see', the young agent held her distance, letting those others on the harbour front wash between them. In this game, patience was what rewarded. That was okay, she could handle a wait, though she would prefer they got off this broad deck sooner rather than later. The sooner she could make a move, the sooner she could abandon the area completely, and the sooner she could get out of sight once more.
Pickings had been good today, slow, but good, providing opportunity to ensure she remained unobserved between lifts, select targets carefully, and spread out timings and locations. After this one, she should be able to move on to the seafood market with enough cash in hand for a few days actually on the job, rather than raising capital. Not to mention enough for a meal and place to sleep, both of which would be very much appreciated right now.
Eventually the tourist family headed inland, pausing in the Space Museum's shadow to consult a map, before turning up Nathan Road. That was good, Nathan Road was busy, even down this end, mostly the preserve of foreigners and designer shops for the well heeled, and she trailed along, using the growing crowd to edge closer, one eye peeled for faces she might recognise. No rush, there was plenty along Kowloon's main drag where the group could be headed. By the perspiration soaking their clothes and huffing gait of the parents though she doubted it would be one of the farther attractions: the Hong Kong Observatory possibly, St. Andrew's Church, or Kowloon Park... or maybe Haiphong Market. That last would actually play into her hands rather well, even if they were not actually attending and, as glossy shop fronts dissolved into smaller jewellery and electronics stores, she began to close in.
Across the next intersection could be seen park greenery, white mosque turrets towering above, and her marks paused, ignoring locals still swilling through against the crossing's signal to look instead toward darkening skies. Obviously they were heading on, which meant all she needed do now was get the timing right. One last check of her surrounds and, as the light turned green, she stepped forward, pocket knife appearing in nimble fingers. Sharp steel sliced effortlessly through the husband's bag, dropping its contents into her waiting hand, movement screened by the confining crowd. As methods of pick pocketing went it was not one of her preferred, overt and inelegant, but effective none the less.
Oblivious to their loss, the family continued on, and Monty broke away, knife disappearing quickly as it had been produced as she slipped amongst the bustling electronics and food stores of Haiphong Road.
After the clean, open, curated spaces of the waterfront, Haiphong and its surrounds were a blessed return to form for the city, teeming streets lit by overhanging neon signs, building facades treated as a place to run pipes and power rather than architectural statements. Working by feel, hands still low, she checked her haul: a phone, passport, and what was definitely a man's wallet. Turning the phone off she opened that last, extracting a wad of notes from inside to be shoved in a pocket, remaining spoils dropping into a covered rubbish bin, sinking beneath wrappers and food scraps.
The whole exercise had taken less than ten seconds, what she needed now was to put some distance on the crime scene. Public transport was not an ideal option but, of the available evils, a bus would likely prove the least problematic.
Rounding the block to exit back onto Nathan Road, the girl boarded the first double decker to arrive, claiming a rear, upper level, seat whence she could keep an eye on the stair and pavement outside, while remaining safely obscured from those below. Scrutinising her new environment briefly, she settled in as it carried her farther north toward Mong Kok, pulling the wad of money out of her pocket once more.
Counting off notes, she shook her head: bless those scared of using cards in foreign countries. That would do her nicely and, adding both available denominations to a collection of previously acquired cash, she slipped the lot back into its hiding place.
Pity about the passport, that and the man's effects could have fetched a good price, but finding a fence would be too dangerous in the immediate future.
Adrenalin moment gone, she stifled a yawn as the bus paused, before crossing traffic to turn northeast into Waterloo Road, cutting between hospitals rising on either flank. That should be just about far enough, especially when public transport was not somewhere she wanted to make an extended stay.
Pressing the button to signal she wished to exit, the girl peered ahead, trying to discern the next stop and, still craned forward, the ring of a phone suddenly shattered her concentration. Not just a phone, her phone, and grabbing it out she inspected the screen. The number was not one she recognised, which meant little: vampire function or no, someone could well be trying to pinpoint her location...
...or it could be Jethro.
Pausing as it rang again, she made up her mind and, stabbing the accept key, raised it to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hi luv, I forgot to pick up Tiger Balm from the store while I was out, could you grab some on your way home?"
Face remaining impassive her heart skipped a beat, it was Jethro, and a safe Jethro to boot. Forcing down that elation, the rest of the message registered: Tiger Balm, store, probably reference to Lei Yue Mun. Well, she had been headed there anyway, now she had even better reason to go and, glancing at her watch, she quickly ran the journey through in her head. She would need time to get clear of the bus, then to actually travel... it would have to be a taxi.
"I think I can do that. I'm out and about myself, probably won't be back until six or seven-ish."
"That's fine, see you then..."
From the line's far end came a pause, as if there were more to be said. Whatever it was though did not eventuate and he rang off, leaving her to lower the mobile again, staring its screen as what had been said sunk in. Her partner was alive, and safe, for now at least. She wanted to be elated, but the initial stab of joy quickly evaporated, they were far from out of the woods yet... though that could just be the fatigue talking.
Now the bus began to slow, snapping her attention back to the present. She could see the stop but, beginning to rise, she halted momentarily, gaze tracking again to the windscreen. In its reflection, eyes burned back, those belonging to a passenger in the front seat. Not someone she recognised, not one of her regular tails.
He had been watching when she got on as well...
That felt off and, maintaining an awareness of her observer, the young agent made her way to the stair down. As she began to descend, he too stood, phone coming to his ear.
Very off... well, it had only been a matter of time before they found her.
Why had it not clicked before though? That had taken her far too long to notice... too concentrated on her spoils, and too little sleep.
Neither of which was even remotely excusable.
Well, she certainly couldn't take him to Lei Yue Mun with her, notch up one more thing to do before she continued on.
Stepping from the bus's rearmost door she slipped into the crowd, immediately joining its flow and, as her transport pulled away, she used its mirror to check behind. Her tail was still present, keeping his distance, phone remaining in place as the top of his head bobbed above the other foot traffic.
The phone she did not like in the slightest, that suggested he was co-ordinating with someone, and the last time that happened she had not enjoyed, was still not enjoying, the result. If she were going to lose him she should to do so quickly, before reinforcements could arrive. She hadn't been on the bus long, that might give her a bit of a head start, the question was how to leverage it.
They were skirting the edge of Mong Kok again now, crumbling buildings packed tight together; that was good, that she could use and, ducking into a narrower street her pace quickened slightly, sliding through the throng meandering its way between cheap restaurants on either flank, doorways for apartment blocks above crushed into tight intervening spaces. First order of business: get away from major transport routes the Chinese could use to bring in more people. Not that it would help her in the long run, not if they had the manpower to surround her, but it might buy time.
Presuming he was Chinese at all.
The thought struck like a thunderclap and, waiting until the opportunity presented, she glanced again in the mirrored back wall of a passing restaurant. No, now she looked closer the features were not Asian, close though, enough to remain indistinct in the poor quality reflection provided by Perspex bus windows, but definitely not local. The realisation sent her running images in her mind, those sketches presented by Jethro on their first night eventually throwing up a name: Martin Case, one of the SIS but, by all accounts, first and foremost one of Charlie's.
So just who was he calling? For that matter, what was he doing tracking her in the first place?
Whatever the reason, she had the distinct feeling it was not over any great concern for her personal well being.
Old and decrepit this area may have been, but the street she had chosen apparently ran long, devoid of breaks. That was not something she needed, it was only a matter of time before she was deposited on another main road. Come to think of it, she had to be getting uncomfortably close to where Lau intercepted her, kicking off this whole debacle to begin with.
Hopefully lightning would not strike twice.
Now she could see a junction approaching on the street's opposite side. That would have to head south toward the East Rail Line, again not a good option, but better than remaining here. Still, there was no point in giving the game away too early and, keeping to her own pavement, Monty continued her course.
Ahead the crowd thickened, waiting to cross steaming tarmac toward that intersecting thoroughfare and, reaching its edge, she paused, heart sinking as eyes flicked across the way. Approaching down the far footpath came another familiar face, and not this time one from pictures.
Through drizzle beginning to fall, Noodle's gaze turned directly into the waiting throng, hand pressed her ear and, glancing around, the young agent found her other pursuer, phone also still in place.
Watching, she felt a chill run up her spine; surely not, they wouldn't be that overt.
Not that there was anyone present to check up on who scratched backs for whom... excepting herself, of course.
That was another unpleasant thought, but one to contemplate later and, original plan dashed, the girl turned away, continuing down her existing route, new Orchid tail mirroring her beyond passing traffic. She needed an out, and quickly. If Noodle had been covering that street, it was a fair bet someone would be coming the opposite direction down this one to close off her escape. Up was always an option, but she could not well go leaping a storey or more to get there. Maybe one of the restaurants had a rear exit.
Glancing to one side, she eyed an entrance as she passed, open front quickly replaced by another glass door for apartment blocks above.
The apartments.
Her tails had to know they were spotted. Pace increasing, Monty forged ahead, scanning more doors at her flank for a suitable candidate as they slid by and, attention flicking forward to check the way, her breath froze. Through the crowd came another of Zhang's men, closing from in front. That settled it, they had to be co-ordinating... not to mention very confident they were going to get her and, to be fair, at this particular juncture that confidence was probably well founded.
Her former tail was closer now and, as she noted his position again, a movement caught her attention. At his back, one of the apartment lobbies was opening, its resident ushering a girl out. Not perfect, but it would do, and Monty suddenly dashed forward, ignoring cries of surprise as she elbowed bodies from her path.
Her unexpected charge took the agent off guard also, and the cyborg dropped her shoulder, as if to tackle him head on. Bracing, the man extended both arms, ready to intercept but, taking one more stride she twisted away, sliding beneath his grasp to cannon into the exiting tenants behind. Shoving the pair's male half aside, she wrenched the door from his hands to slam it shut.
Inside, post boxes lined either flank, a lift entrance taking up the final bit of space. Waiting for that latter was too much of a gamble, and she instead ran for its circling steps, bounding up three at a time as shouting erupted at her back, not just one voice either, more joining in over the din of fists hammering against toughened glazing.
She just made it onto the second landing when pistol shots echoed up the concrete stairwell, accompanied by the crash of shattering glass.
That had not taken long.
Pounding feet rose from below as she continued her upward charge; third floor, fourth, fifth... the next level had no corridor, just a door, and she burst through into a forest of television antennae, weaving between dripping metal spires, heading for the building's edge.
More shouts from behind, and she ducked away as a shot ricocheted off the satellite dish above her head in a spray of water. That movement though brought her to the parapet, fingers catching its edge as she dropped over, arresting her descent for a split second before falling the remaining storey to the next rooftop. Spinning mid-air she hit its concrete surface, tumbling forward, roll converting the impact into forward motion. Then she was up again as her pursuers arrived at the precipice above, rounds smacking into concrete behind retreating heels as she hit the next guardrail at a run.
Vaulting over she dropped again, forgoing catching on this time to instead slide off the awning below, twisting to grab its end and swing herself beneath, crashing feet first through the glass door it sheltered.
No time to pause, it wouldn't take her competition long to guess where she'd gone.
Ignoring the apartment occupant's sudden scream the cyborg raced through, charging out its entry into the corridor beyond. Bouncing off its opposite wall she carried on toward a window at the space's end. Hefting that open put her back on the building's exterior to leap across the narrow gap, slowing her descent, before a drainpipe on the far wall took care of the remaining distance to ground.
The alley she landed in was damp, open one end onto the street so recently fled. Not a place to remain and, hugging dirty concrete she slunk back into the block's centre, risking a glance upward: no-one visible on the roof, but there were only so many places she could have gone. Dodging through the detritus of rubbish and rudimentary lean-tos, she found another building entry on the waste ground's far side, lock picks making short work of its cheap security so she could push through into the passage behind. Hidden now she finally slowed, taking a brief moment to dust off, before stepping onto public pavement at its far facade, hailing the nearest cab.
"Lei Yue Mun Market, please."
Sliding into the vehicle's rear seat she tore off her hat, slouching into her best teenager impression. Watching a door mirror, no sooner had the driver pulled away than Martin's tiny figure appeared on the footpath, lit red by passing tail-lights, looking around briefly before traffic closed in to obscure him from view, and Monty allowed herself a small sigh of relief. That, she did not feel like doing again in the near future.
Twice now she had been forced to run in two days, and to have found her so quickly from cold this time around her opponents must be willing to throw a huge amount of manpower into the search, willing enough to start co-ordinating between agencies.
Or perhaps not between agencies, as the case may be.
Whatever Zhang, and Charlie, wanted, they apparently considered it important enough to risk operating together overtly to bring her in, and whatever that thing was, she somehow doubted its acquisition was for the benefit of China or Great Britain. Either way, what she really needed was a place to go to ground, drop off the radar for a bit. The Chinese were always able to throw people at a problem and Charlie, presumably, had his station's resources to draw on, but this sort of frenetic pace could not be maintained forever.
Sitting straighter, the girl watched as Kowloon's towers slid by, gaps between reflective fortifications affording her the occasional glimpse toward old Kai Tak airport and Victoria Harbour as the taxi worked its way east. The real problem she now faced was what they did from here because, closing net or no, they still had a job to do. The sensible thing would be to beat a retreat, pull out completely until things settled down, but that held little appeal. Just closing on the press again had taken all too long, and who knew when they would require its trail next time, if at all... or that it would even remain in Hong Kong. That, ultimately, came down to how switched on the Padania were. Even without herself chasing, if they knew the SIS and Second Department were taking an interest they would surely move their forging operation as soon as physically possible. It that were so, she really did not have time to let the heat properly die down, not unless she and Jethro felt like starting over from scratch, again.
Outside, high-rise buildings melted into low store fronts, Technicolor facades giving way to bright lights once more reflecting from slick pavements marking the entrance to Lei Yue Mun and, slowing to a crawl, the taxi nosed up against their edge. Paying her fare, Monty gave her surrounds one final look over, before sliding out into the dribble of people washing farther into the market's depths.
Glancing at her watch, the girl concealed a grimace, right now she had time to kill; not an ideal position to be in with what seemed like Hong Kong's entire spook population on her trial. Normally she would have been willing to wander, do her bit in the role of tourist, but that was useless now, any thoughts of replenishing her finances in the interim well and truly dashed. What she needed was somewhere to quietly hide away, ideally where she could keep an eye on Jethro's rendezvous point. The last thing she wanted was for him to be hanging around any longer than absolutely necessary: if Charlie and Zhang were after her, it was a fair bet he constituted equally, and probably even more, highly prized game.
She was entering the market proper now, density of people around her increasing, very much a double edge sword, darkness having negated rudimentary measures toward obscuring her western features. None of the stores would do to wait in: too open, alright for a few minutes against a single tail, but far too easily kept tabs on by a concerted, methodical search... and she had a nasty feeling the manpower for such an operation was absolutely available.
Saving grace: it was doubtful those controlling the searchers could be sure she had come this way.
Stepping down another alley, she passed the store Tiger's man had found her and Jethro at previously, a case in point, its recesses only deep enough to thwart the casual observer. Turning from it, her gaze lifted skyward to watch light rain glitter as it passed bright lamps, before splashing into reflective puddles at her feet, and her eyes narrowed. While originally single storey, above the market's warmly lit rat runs, wood and tin structures poked from its roof, forming geometric shadows against foliaged hills. Obviously some of those shopkeepers had found the enticement of zero commute and minimal rent enough to put up with a permanent stench of fish.
Whatever the reason for those ramshackle shacks however, they offered a solution, one which didn't involve lying in pooling rain. All she needed was means by which to get up there, admittedly easier said than done in an environment where a normally hidden alley could constitute a major thoroughfare.
Moving deeper into the market, toward where green slopes met the encroaching village, trees started to dot its pavements, invading the spaces between aged buildings. It was darker back here, quieter and, ensuring she remained unobserved, Monty leapt to grab a hanging branch, shimmying upward along its length.
Dropping quietly onto drenched asbestos sheeting she paused, despite everything taking a moment to drink in the vista spread before her, structures visible from street level doing little justice for what reality now laid bare. Here, a whole neighbourhood existed in secret, lit from below by glowing canyons, rain misting into warm halos over those traipsing in their depths, oblivious to what moved above. Rudimentary tin and wood shacks stretched away toward the harbour, looping wires crisscrossing between, some supporting strings of incandescent bulbs or red lanterns under another forest of antennae, scene backstopped by the shifting neon skyline of Hong Kong proper in the distance. It was another reality completely, city beyond and below muted, blocked by the stage curtain from these quiet homes. Here and there a window remained alight, or flickered to an invisible television set, suggesting this hidden world however remained not entirely deserted.
Tearing eyes away, Monty shifted her attention, tracing the route back to her intended meeting point through radiant pathways at her feet. Committing that to memory, she slunk off along the rough wooden planking which zigzagged across corrugated sheeting, careful to avoid any of this veiled community's inhabitants.
Despite its beauty from this perspective, the market's layout proved a maze of its own, soundless leaps over public depths dispensed with quickly, if they could not be avoided entirely. Soon however, the young spy was back above her target area, crouched under dripping eaves of another rusting shack, just clear of the street's shimmering light as it rose from ground level and, glancing at her watch again, she settled in to wait.
Still half an hour to go.
The decision to climb was soon proven as correct as, ambling down the crevasse floor, came another of Zhang's cronies, the same as had tailed them at the Peak Tower, head swinging left and right as he peered into shops and stalls. Midway along he paused, staring harder down a narrow, roofed-over, passage, separating the backs of fishmongers below, steep wooden stairs, Monty had discovered, leading up through concealed holes to the level she currently occupied.
The stop was only brief and, noting the time on her watch, she hit a pusher to set the Heuer's chronograph running as he moved on, setting a measure for his return.
The second part of that check however remained unfulfilled and, as the small dial's hand passed thirty-five minutes, another figure appeared, this one much more welcome. Across the way, her partner paused, taking an easy glance around, before stepping briskly into the same shop as had sheltered them previously.
Own check from this higher vantage point offering assurance the street below would remain clear for a few more seconds, the girl abandoned her position, moving quickly to drop through the neat roofing gap. Not bothering with the stair she landed quietly, straightening to saunter easily through in his wake.
"You're late."
The response was almost instant, and she found herself folded into a silent, crushing embrace, partner's face pressing hard to the top of her head as her own arms snaked around his back in reply. Treading heavily on her own surge of emotion, Monty counted off seconds, reaching five before sliding slender fingered hands inside Jethro's grasp to gently nudge his arms apart. There was a moment's resistance but, stepping back as the death grip relinquished, she looked up into moist eyes, accepting a fleeting kiss in the process.
That, seemingly, was the signal things were back under control, and she spoke quickly, voice low, shoving the multitude of questions she so desperately wanted to ask aside.
"Art passed this way a bit over half an hour ago, I doubt it will be long before he's back."
At that, Jethro threw her a wry half grin. "And it's good to see you too."
Returning the gesture with an equally sad smile, she felt herself ushered out onto wet pavement again, Jethro's hand never leaving the small of her back. Letting her lead momentarily to turn toward where 'Art' had disappeared, he bent down as she spoke softly once more.
"He walked through from the other direction so, if his pattern is methodical..."
"...this should be the clearest route out," finished Jethro. "You think he is though?"
Monty gave an actual grimace at that. "I don't know what your escape experience was, but from what I've seen since yesterday, Zhang and Charlie consider us worth making a priority, so they will spare the people. Frankly, I'm already getting a little sick of having to dodge our competition so regularly."
No reply and, taking two more steps, her partner directed her down a perpendicular stretch of stalls, zigzagging toward the market entrance, eyes constantly peeled. What really worried her was that Martin, Noodle, and their helper had come in a group and, even if resultant from the SIS man's call, their travel distance must have been short. If that were the case, how many were hovering around the Lei Yue Mun as well?
Turning down another narrow path, the road out of the market appeared before them, and Jethro guided her toward a small, beaten, Mitsubishi van, sliding its door back to usher her into its rear before, unusually, following inside. Curious, her eyes turned to the driver's seat, quickly narrowing to snap back to her partner.
"Explanation."
"Long story."
"I'm sure it is," the retort was quick coming, "but I'm not entirely trusting of the local SIS at present."
Selecting first with a crunch of worn synchros, and swinging their vehicle around in a tight arc, Mary glanced quickly toward the new arrival. "Smart girl. I'm sure we can all swap tales later but, right now, this is the second car I've had to nick in the same number of days, so I would really prefer we spend as little time with it as possible."
Arm snaking around her, Monty felt Jethro's grip tighten, other wrapping across to press her tightly against his side, lips once more lowered to rest against the top of her head. When they came free, his words were quiet. "Zhang and Charlie... I suspect I may owe you an apology on that front."