A single row of lights shone ahead. There was a road bridge, at least half a mile long, snaking across the entire length of the harbour. But once they had passed underneath it there was nothing. Moon Moth had its own spotlights mounted on the bow and the cabin roof, but they barely penetrated the driving rain and showed nothing more than a circle of black water a few metres ahead.
The captain switched on the screens and the cabin glowed green with a soft beeping sound that divided up the silence like commas in a sentence. For about ten minutes nobody said anything but then the crewman appeared, carrying a battered tray with four tin mugs of hot chocolate which he had brought up from a galley somewhere below.
“You haven’t told me your names,” the captain said. He lit his pipe and blew smoke into the air, making the cabin feel closer and snugger than ever. It was very warm inside, presumably from the heat of the engines below.
Richard introduced them. “I’m Richard. This is Matt and Jamie.” They were being smuggled into Hong Kong illegally, and anyway Han Shan-tung already knew who they were. There was no need for false names.
“And I am Hector Machado. But you can call me Captain. That is what everyone calls me – even when I am not on the ship.”
“Are you Spanish?” Richard asked.
“Portuguese. I was born in Lisbon. Have you been there?”
Richard shook his head.
“I’m told that it’s a beautiful city. I left there when I was three. My father came to Hong Kong to fight against the communists. This was his boat.” Machado sucked on his pipe which glowed red. He blew out smoke. “He was shot dead in the very seat where I am sitting now. And the boat is mine.”
“How many crew do you have?” Matt was thinking of the man he had seen. Why had he appeared so unfriendly?
“Just Billy. No need for anyone else.”
“What’s in the crates?”
Machado hesitated, as if afraid of giving too much away. Then he shrugged. “Fireworks. A lot of fireworks. Mr Shantung has a business selling them to mainland Hong Kong.”
“And what do you carry when you’re not delivering fireworks?” Richard asked. His voice was hostile. It clearly bothered him, being with these people.
“I’ve carried all sorts of things, Richard. Stuff that maybe it would be better you didn’t know about. I’ve smuggled people in, if that’s what you want to know. And maybe you should be grateful. I know the ins and outs. Moon Moth may not be much to look at but she’ll outrun the Hong Kong harbour patrols any time… not that they’ll bother themselves about us. Everyone knows me in these parts. And they leave me alone.”
“So how long have you worked for the Triads?”
“You think this is an interview? You want to write about me?” Machado gestured with the pipe. “I’d get some rest if I were you. It could be a long night.” He slipped the pipe between his teeth and said no more.
They cruised on into the darkness, guided by the strange, green light of the radar system. The night was so huge that it swallowed them completely. There was no moon or stars. It was impossible to tell if it was still raining as the windows were being lashed by sea spray. Machado sat where he was, smoking in silence. Richard, Matt and Jamie sat at the back of the cabin, out of his way. All three of them were tense and nervous. They hadn’t discussed what they might find in Hong Kong, but now that they were finally on the way, they could imagine what they might be up against. A whole city, millions of people… and the Old Ones infesting everything. They had to be mad to be going in there. But there seemed to be no other way to get Scar out.
Jamie finished his hot chocolate and dozed off. Richard opened his backpack and began to go through his things: he had brought maps, money, a change of clothes. The precious diary – written by Joseph of Cordoba – was also there, sealed in plastic to keep it protected. Matt noticed a glimmer of gold and realized that he was carrying the tumi – the Inca knife.
Richard glanced up. “You never know when it may come in handy,” he said. “Anyway, I didn’t like leaving it behind with that bunch of crooks.” He zipped the backpack shut, then lowered his voice. “What do you think?” he asked.
He was referring to Hector Machado, although he didn’t need to whisper as the captain would never had heard him above the noise of the engines.
“Shan-tung trusts him,” Matt said.
“He doesn’t seem to be exactly friendly.”
“He doesn’t have to be friendly. He just has to get us there.”
“Let’s hope he does.”
The two of them fell silent and soon they were both asleep. But then – it felt like seconds later – Matt found himself being woken by something. It was the boat’s engine which had changed tempo, slowing down. He opened his eyes. It was still dark, still raining. But there were lights ahead.
“You can wake up your friends,” Captain Machado said. “We’re here.”
Matt stood up and went over to the window.
And there it was. It was two o’clock in the morning but a city like Hong Kong never really slept. Matt could make out the skyscrapers by the lights that burned all around them, picking out their shapes in brilliant green, blue and pink neon. It was as if someone had drawn the city onto the darkness with a vast, fluorescent crayon. There were advertisements – PHILIPS, SAMSUNG, HITATCHI – burning themselves onto the night sky, the colours breaking up in the water, being thrown around by the choppy waves. There were signs in Chinese too, and they reminded him how very different this city would be from London or Miami. This was another world.
It was very misty. Maybe it was an illusion caused by all the neon, but the mist was a strange colour, an ugly, poisonous yellow. It was rolling across the harbour towards them, reaching out to surround them as if it were a living thing and knew who they were. As they continued forward, it pressed itself against the glass of the cabin and the sound of the engines became even more distant.
Richard had joined the captain at the steering wheel. “Why are we going so slowly?” he asked. It was a good question. They were barely moving at all.
“We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” Machado replied.
“I thought you said nobody cared about you anyway.”
“There’s still no reason to make too much noise.”
Another minute passed.
“I thought we were going to Kowloon,” Richard said.
“We are.”
“But isn’t Kowloon on the other side?”
Machado grinned in the half light. He had put the pipe away. “The current will carry us over,” he said and at that moment Matt knew that he wasn’t telling the truth and felt the familiar tingle of imminent danger. For what seemed like an age, nothing happened. They weren’t moving. Machado was standing there, almost daring them to challenge him – to do anything. But there was nothing they could do. They were trapped on board his boat, completely in his power.
And then a searchlight cut through the darkness, pinning Moon Moth in its glare. The entire cabin seemed to explode with dazzling light. A second beam swung across. Two boats. They were still some distance away but they were rapidly closing in. They must have been waiting there all the time.
At the same moment, Machado swung his hand, crashing it into the side of Richard’s head and then bringing it around on Matt. He was holding a gun. Richard fell. Machado’s lips curled in an unpleasant smile. “If you move, I will kill you,” he said.
He had betrayed them. He had known the boats were coming. He had led them straight to them.
“The Triads will kill you for this…” Richard muttered. He had pulled himself onto one knee and was cradling his head in his hand. Blood was trickling from a wound just above his eye.
“The Triads are finished,” Machado replied. “They’re nothing any more.”
“So who’s paying you?” Matt asked.
“There’s a big reward out for you, boy. Two million Hong Kong dollars. More than I’ve earned with Shan-tung and his friends in ten years. They want you very badly. And they warned me about you. If you even blink, I’ll shoot you.”