Anthony Horowitz - Necropolis

Scarlett couldn’t get out of the building fast enough. Wisdom Court was only a few minutes from the tram station and they could have walked but Karl drove them anyway. But at least he had decided not to come to the top. Mrs Cheng bought tickets for the two of them and she and Scarlett got onto the tram.

Although the station looked new, the tram itself had been built more than a hundred years before. Climbing on board was like stepping back in history. They took their places on the polished, wooden seats and a short while later, with no warning, they set off, trundling up the tracks through thick vegetation with occasional glimpses of the city, ever smaller and more distant as they went. There were about twenty tourists sharing the ride, some of them small children, laughing and pointing. Watching them, Scarlett wished that she could be like them, part of an ordinary family, out here on holiday. She was only a few seats away from them but they could have been inhabiting a different world. Had they really got no inkling about what was happening in Hong Kong? Was she the only one to feel the all-pervading sense of evil?

We will be waiting.

She focused her mind on what lay ahead. Who would be there and why had they chosen The Peak of all places? Maybe it was because it was outside the city, away from the buildings. At the summit there would be no crowds, no surveillance cameras. It was somewhere with room to breathe.

The tram arrived and the passengers poured out, straight into a complex that seemed to have been specially built to make as much money from as many tourists as possible. From the outside it looked like a bizarre observation tower, like something out of Star Wars. Inside, it was full of tacky shops and restaurants with a Madame Tussaud’s and a Ripley’s Believe-it-or-Not with signs inviting visitors to “come and see the world’s fattest man”. Scarlett couldn’t wait to get out.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested. She was careful to sound as innocent as possible.

Mrs Cheng looked doubtful. She wasn’t dressed for a walk – in a short, grey skirt, black stockings and high-heeled shoes. “Maybe a short way…” she muttered.

There was a distinct chill in the air as the two of them made their way down a slope, passing a man who was sweeping leaves. Scarlett knew what she was looking for. A path that led off from the Lugard Road. That was what the fortune-teller’s note had said. She saw the sign almost at once. Without even waiting for Mrs Cheng to catch up, she set off.

The path was three miles long, snaking all the way round the mountain, paved all the way. On one side there was The Peak itself, with a tangle of exotic trees and bushes hanging overhead. On the other was an iron railing, to prevent anyone falling down the hill. There weren’t many other people around. The changing weather must have dissuaded them, and the other tourists who had come up in the tram had all stayed inside. Soon Scarlett found that she and Mrs Cheng were entirely on their own.

There was a strange atmosphere on The Peak. The mist had returned, hanging in the air, almost blotting out the sun. Everything was washed out, dark green and pale white. There were birds whistling, squawking and rattling in the undergrowth, but none of them could be seen. The path was lost in the clouds and it was impossible to see more than twenty metres ahead. As she made her way forward, Scarlett found it easy to imagine that she had somehow travelled back in time, that this was some Eastern version of Jurassic Park and that a dinosaur might be waiting for her round the next corner.

But then she arrived at an observation point where the vegetation had been cut back and Hong Kong appeared, sprawled out below. It was incredible to see so many skyscrapers packed together on both sides of the water. There were hundreds of them, every shape and size, made small and insignificant by the distance – with thousands or even millions of people invisible among them.

Mrs Cheng plodded along behind, saying nothing. Her face was sullen, her hands – loosely curled into fists – hung by her side. Scarlett was quietly amused. Her guardian clearly wasn’t enjoying the visit. She wasn’t even bothering to glance at the view.

A couple of people walked past them… a woman pushing an old-fashioned pram and a man, jogging. The man was wearing a blue tracksuit and his face was covered by an anti-pollution mask, with only his eyes showing above the white square. Scarlett tensed as each one of them approached. She was waiting for someone to make contact. But neither of them so much as noticed her, both continuing on their way.

They walked for another five minutes, still following the path which curved round the side of The Peak.

“I think we should go back, Scarlett,” Mrs Cheng said.

“But it’s a circular walk,” Scarlett protested. “If we keep going, we’ll find ourselves back anyway.”

Three more walkers appeared ahead of them: two men and a woman, all Chinese. They were dressed in much the same way with jeans, zip-up jackets and walking shoes. One of the men had a walking stick although he looked young and fit and surely didn’t need it. The other man carried a backpack. He was in his thirties, with glasses and a pock-marked face. The two of them were chatting. The woman – she was slim and athletic, her long hair tied back with a pink band – was listening to an iPod. As they drew nearer, they showed no interest in Scarlett at all.

The three of them drew level.

“Scarlett…” Mrs Cheng began.

She never finished the sentence. The man with the backpack reached behind him and drew out something that was flat and silver. It was a move that he must have rehearsed many times. To Scarlett’s eyes, it was as if he had suddenly produced an oversized kitchen knife. Then she realized what it was. A machete. The blade was about half a metre long and razor-sharp. At the same time, the other man twisted the handle of his walking stick, revealing the sword that had been concealed inside. Scarlett saw the glint of metal and heard it slice the air as he pulled it free. The woman wasn’t armed. She was looking behind her, checking the path was clear.

Both men plunged their weapons into Audrey Cheng. The Chinese woman screamed – but there was nothing remotely human about the sound. It was a high-pitched howl, almost deafening. Scarlett stared in horror. Her face was unrecognizable, her mouth stretched open in a terrible grimace. Blood was pouring in a torrent over her lower lip. Her eyes had clouded over. She hadn’t had time to defend herself or react in any way. Scarlett saw her neck open as if it was hinged and she looked away. She heard the thud as Mrs Cheng’s severed head hit the ground. She knew that it was a sound that she would never forget.

The woman ran forward and put an arm around her, comforting her. Some of Mrs Cheng’s blood had splattered onto her. There were flecks of it on her jacket. The very air had gone a hazy red.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Scarlett,” she said, in perfect English. “Don’t look round. We had to do it. There was no other way.”

“You killed her!” Scarlett was in shock. She had never liked Mrs Cheng but she couldn’t believe what she had just seen. These people hadn’t given her a chance to defend herself. They had murdered her in cold blood.

“Not her. It.”

Scarlett stared. “What do you mean?”

“Show her!” one of the men snarled.

“We’re your friends,” the woman said. “We sent you the message with the fortune-teller. We’ve come to help you and, believe me, there was no other way.” She placed her hands on Scarlett’s shoulder. “Turn round and have a look for yourself,” she went on. “The woman isn’t what you think. She’s a shape-changer. We’ll show you, but then you have to come with us. They’ll know what’s happened. They’ll have heard her. We don’t have much time…”