Anthony Horowitz - Necropolis

“And how do we get to Macau?” Richard asked.

“You cannot fly there direct. I believe you will have to go via Singapore. But it is, if you like, a back door into Hong Kong – and one that the Old Ones may have overlooked.” He took out a handkerchief and polished the lenses of his glasses. “More than that, I have a connection in Macau who may agree to help you. He has many resources. In fact, if anyone knows the truth about what is going on in that part of the world, it will be him.”

“Wait a minute…” Richard was worried and he didn’t try to hide it. He was wishing he’d never mentioned the diary in the first place. “Matt… are you really sure you have to go there?” he asked. “You’ve already said that it’s you that they want. You say it’s a trap. Now you’re walking straight into it.”

“We need Scarlett,” Matt replied, simply. “They have her. We can’t win without her.” He looked round. “Jamie, will you come with me?”

Jamie shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to see Hong Kong.”

“Then it’s agreed.” Matt turned back to Mr Lee. “How quickly can you get in touch with your friend?” he asked.

“His name is Han Shan-tung,” Lee replied. “He is a man with great influence. He has many friends inside Hong Kong. But it may not be easy to find him. He travels a great deal. You may have to wait.”

“We can’t wait.”

“It will just be a few days. But trust me. It would be foolish to enter the city without his support.”

A few days. More waiting. Matt thought about Scarlett. In a few hours’ time she would be landing in Hong Kong. What would she find when she got there? How would she manage on her own?

But there was no other way. Somehow she would have to survive until he got there. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too long.

The nightmare started almost from the moment Scarlett arrived at Hong Kong Airport.

She was still a Skyflyer Solo and the airline had arranged for an escort to meet her at the plane and to take her through immigration and customs. His name was Justin and he was dark-haired, in his early twenties, dressed like a member of the cabin crew.

“Did you have a good flight?” He spoke with an Australian accent and seemed friendly enough. “It was OK.”

“You must be tired. Never mind. I’ll see you through to the other side. Is this your first time in Hong Kong?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to love it here!”

He prattled on as Scarlett followed him to passport control. It would have been easy to find her own way – there were signs written in English as well as Chinese – but she was glad to have company after eleven hours sitting on her own in what had felt like outer space. The worst thing about the flight hadn’t been the length or the boredom. It had been the sense of disconnection. She was going somewhere she didn’t want to go, not even knowing why she was going there. What could be so urgent that her father had made her travel all this way? And why hadn’t he been able to tell her on the phone?

The airport was surprisingly quiet, but then it was only six o’clock in the morning and perhaps there hadn’t been that many international flights. Even so, Scarlett felt uneasy. She examined the people around her as they stood on the travelator, being carried down the wide, silver and grey corridors. The other passengers looked more dead than alive, bleary-eyed and pale. Nobody was talking. Nobody seemed happy to be there.

And there was something else that struck her. Everyone was heading the same way. They were all pouring into the main building. People might be arriving in Hong Kong but, this morning at any rate, no one seemed to be leaving.

They arrived at immigration, joining a queue that snaked back and forth up to a line of low, glass booths with officials in black and silver uniforms, seated on low stools. They all looked very much the same to Scarlett – small, with brown eyes and black, spiky hair. She put the thought out of her head. She was probably being racist.

And then it was her turn. The official who took her passport and arrivals card was young, polite. He opened the passport and examined her details and as he did so, she noticed a surveillance camera just above him swivel round to examine her too. It was quite unnerving, the way it moved, without making any sound, somehow picking her out from the rest of the crowd.

“Scarlett Adams.” The official spoke her name and smiled. He wasn’t asking her to confirm it. He was just reading it off the page as if he didn’t quite understand what it meant. Then he reached out for his stamp, inked it and brought it down on the passport with a bang.

And at that exact moment, he changed. Did it really happen or was her mind playing tricks with her after the long flight? It was his eyes. As the stamp hit the page, they seemed to flicker as if someone had blown smoke over them and suddenly they were yellow. The pupils, which had been brown a second ago were now black and diamond-shaped. The passport official glanced up at her and smiled and right then she was afraid that he was going to leap out of his booth and tear into her. His eyes were no longer human. They were more like a crocodile’s eyes.

Scarlett gasped out loud. She couldn’t help herself. She was paralysed, staring at the thing in front of her. The escort, standing next to her, hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Nobody else had reacted. There was a stamp as another visa was issued in the booth next door and Scarlett glanced in that direction as a student with a backpack was allowed through. When she looked back, it was over. The official was normal again. He was holding out her passport, waiting for her to take it. She hesitated, then snatched it from him, not wanting to come into contact even with the tips of his fingers as if she was half expecting them to turn into claws.

“We need to pick up your bags,” Justin said.

“Right…”

He looked at her curiously. “Is something the matter, Scarlett?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Everything’s fine.”

The cases took about ten minutes to arrive. Scarlett’s was one of the first off the plane. Justin picked it up for her and the two of them went through the customs area, which was empty. Presumably nobody bothered smuggling anything into Hong Kong. The arrivals gate was directly ahead of them and Scarlett hurried forward. Despite everything, she was looking forward to seeing her father again. He wasn’t there.

There were about a hundred people waiting on the other side of the barriers, quite a few of them dressed in chauffeur uniforms, some of them holding names on placards. She saw her own name almost at once. It was being held by a black man in a suit. He was tall and bald with a face that could have been carved – it showed no emotion. Somehow, he didn’t seem to belong in Hong Kong. It wasn’t just his colour. It was his size. He towered over everyone else, staring over the crowd with empty eyes as if he didn’t want to be there.

There was a woman standing next to him and Scarlett took a dislike to her at first sight. Was she even a woman? She was certainly dressed in women’s clothes, with a grey dress, anorak and fur-lined boots that came up to her knees. But she had the face and the physique of a man. Her shoulders were broad and square. Her neck was thick-set. She wore no make-up although she was badly in need of it. She had skin like very old leather. She was Chinese and half the height of the chauffeur, with black hair hanging lifelessly down and thick, plastic glasses that wouldn’t have flattered her face even if there had been something to flatter. She reminded Scarlett of a prison warden. It was impossible to guess her age. Forty? Fifty? She didn’t look as if she had ever been young.