Necropolis (24 page)

On an impulse, she scooped up her pillow and threw it at the window. It worked. As one, the flies peeled away. For a moment they looked like a long silk scarf, hanging in the breeze. Then they were gone.

For about twenty minutes, Scarlett stayed where she was, almost afraid to get up. She didn't like insects at the best of times, but this was something else again. She knew that what she had seen was completely impossible…just like the door in the church of St. Meredith's. And that told her what should have been obvious all along.

She had thought that, at the very least, her sudden departure to Hong Kong would be an escape from what had been happening in London — the monastery, the sense of being followed, the restaurant that had blown up. But of course it wasn't. It was a continuation, part of the same thing. The events that had closed in on her in London had followed her here. She was caught in the same trap. And here it was even worse. She was far from her friends and family, alone in a city that seemed to be hostile in every way.

This was all happening because she was a Gatekeeper. She remembered what Father Gregory had told her. He had talked about an ancient evil…the Old Ones. Scarlett didn't know exactly what they were, but she could imagine the worst. They were here, in Hong Kong. That would explain everything. The Old Ones were toying with her. They were the ones who were controlling the crowd.

What was she going to do?

She could march into the kitchen and tell Mrs. Cheng that she didn't want to wait for her father, that she was taking the next flight back to London. She could telephone her mother in Australia or Mrs. Murdoch or the headmistress at St. Genevieve's. They would get her out of here. She could even contact the police.

But she knew that none of it would work. The forces ranged against her were too powerful. She could see it every time she went outside. Hong Kong was sick. There was a sort of cancer that had spread through every alleyway and every street and had infected everyone who walked there. Did she seriously think that they were just going to let her walk out of here? So far, they hadn't threatened her directly.

That hadn't been part of their plan. But if she challenged them, if she tried to assert herself, they would close in on her, and it would only make her situation worse.

She had just one hope. The people who were trying to reach her — they had to be on her side.

We are your friends.

That was what they had told her. She just had to behave normally until she reached them. Then, once she knew what was really happening, she would be able to act.

She got up and got dressed. The fortune-teller's note was beside the bed, but now she tucked it away beneath the mattress. Whoever her friends were, they were being very careful. They were contacting her in four separate stages: the guidebook hidden in her luggage, the illuminated sign across the harbor, the bird of fortune at Tin Hau, and finally a meeting this afternoon. The question was, how was she going to persuade Mrs. Cheng to take her back to The Peak?

They had already been there once. Victoria Peak was the mountain that rose up behind Hong Kong, a must-see for every tourist. Scarlett had gone there on the second day, taking the old wooden tram — it was actually a funicular railway — up the slope to the top, five hundred yards above the city. The views were meant to be spectacular, but they hadn't seen very much on account of the pollution. Maybe that was the answer. If the weather cheered up, it would give her an excuse to go back.

Mrs. Cheng was in the kitchen, cooking an omelette for Scarlett's breakfast.

"Good morning, Scarlett."

"Good morning, Mrs. Cheng."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you."

As Scarlett sat down, it occurred to her that she had never seen the woman eat — not so much as a mouthful. Even when they went to restaurants together, Mrs. Cheng ordered food only for Scarlett. In fact, she had only ever shown hunger once. That had been at the market when they examined the hideous, sliced-in-half-but-still-living fish.

"So where would you like to go today, Scarlett?" They were exactly the same words she had used the day before. And she spoke without any real enthusiasm, as if it was simply what she had been programmed to say.

"Why don't we go back to The Peak?" Scarlett suggested. "We didn't see anything very much last time.

Maybe we'll get a better view."

Mrs. Cheng looked out of the window. "There's a lot of cloud," she remarked.

"But it's going to cheer up this afternoon," Scarlett said. "I saw the forecast on TV." It was grim outside, with a nonstop drizzle sweeping across the sky. And the forecast had said it would stay the same for the rest of the week. But somehow Scarlett knew she was right.

"I don't think so." Mrs. Cheng shook her head. "Maybe you would like to go to the cinema?"

"Let's see what it's like this afternoon," Scarlett pleaded. "I'm sure it will clear up."

And against all the odds, it did. At around two o'clock, the clouds finally parted and the sun came out, still weak against the ever-present pollution, but definitely there. Even Mrs. Cheng had to agree that it was too nice an afternoon to stay indoors, and so the two of them set out.

The receptionist was in his usual place as they left Wisdom Court, sitting stiffly behind the desk and wearing the same dark suit and white shirt, watching them with no expression at all. As they went past, Scarlett noticed something. The man had a black spot, a mole, on the side of his face. At least, that was what she thought. Then the spot moved. It crawled over his cheek and began to climb up, and she realized that it was actually a fly, one of the fat, black insects that had come to her window that morning.

The receptionist didn't move. He didn't try to swat it. He didn't even seem to have noticed it. He did nothing as the creature reached the corner of his eye and began to feed.

Scarlett couldn't get out of the building fast enough. Wisdom Court was only a few minutes from the tram station — they could have walked, but Karl drove them anyway. 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 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 Tussauds 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, gray 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 from 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 fifty feet ahead. As she made her way forward, Scarlett found it easy to imagine that she had somehow traveled 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 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 stroller 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 that 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 pockmarked 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 oversize kitchen knife. Then she realized what it was: a machete. The blade was about two feet 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 that 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. Mrs. Cheng's 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 were hinged and she looked away. She heard the thud as Mrs. Cheng's severed head hit the ground. She knew it was a sound that she would never forget.

The woman ran forward and put an arm around Scarlett, 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," the woman said in perfect English. "Don't look. 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…"

Scarlett turned round. The man with the sword-stick was already sheathing it. The other was wiping his machete on a piece of cloth. She swallowed hard, not wanting to do this. There was a lot of blood, spreading across the path.

Mrs. Cheng was lying on her back, her legs in their black stockings lying straight out in front of her.

There was a dreadful wound in her "chest where one of the blades had stabbed her through the heart.

The other had decapitated her. Scarlett forced herself to examine the rest of the body. She saw something thick and green coming out of the jacket where Mrs. Cheng's neck should have been. It had been severed halfway up. But it didn't belong to a human body. It looked like part of a snake.