Disruption: The Hong Kong Series, #1

By Mark David Abbott

"…What an incredible book. You see the news, but in this story, you learn a lot about the human side…."

 

Young Australian ex-pat Jacob Watson has it all: a high-paying job managing a property portfolio for one of Hong Kong's tycoons, access to the city's elite, and a life of luxury.

 

But as protests against Chinese interference in Hong Kong escalate, Jacob's world is turned upside down.

 

Will he continue to prioritize his career and wealth, or risk it all to join the fight for democracy in the city he now calls home?

 

This action-packed and enthralling thriller from author Mark David Abbott will keep you on the edge of your seat as Jacob navigates the dangerous political landscape of Hong Kong.

 

Book 1 in The Hong Kong Trilogy.

 

Praise for Mark David Abbott

"The author puts the reader in a situation that a common person could realistically find themselves in... The reader, therefore, finds himself immersed in the story rather than experiencing the story as an un-involved by-stander."

"The author is an exceptional story teller which has become a rarity these days."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark David Abbott
• Release date: Oct 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223895497

Book preview

1

Ninety-eight.

Sucking in another lungful of air, he willed himself to push on.

Ninety-nine.

His chest heaved, and vision starred.

One more.

One hundred.

He pressed the button on the side of his watch and collapsed to the floor, rolling onto his back, ignoring the pool of sweat as he gasped for breath. His eyes closed, he sucked in air as his chest heaved up and down, and his pulse hammered away in his temples. He slowly became aware of noises around him—the clank of iron plates and the rhythmic pounding of the Rage Against the Machine track playing over the gym sound system. Opening his eyes, he blinked away the sweat that ran into his eyes, stinging his eyeballs. Raising his wrist, he glanced at his wristwatch, narrowing his eyes to see the time—eight minutes, forty-five seconds. A new personal record, ten seconds faster than his previous best. One hundred burpees for time. It was a workout he dreaded, but perversely, also his favorite. Just him against the clock, no equipment needed, yet he had seen tremendous results. Rolling over to his side, Jacob Watson pushed himself up and glanced around the gym.

This early in the morning, it was still quite empty. Just Tom over in the squat rack, and the Hong Kong guy, whose name he had never bothered to ask, on the stair climber.

Jacob liked to work out early. Despite the extreme physical effort, it set him up for the day. He had found if he completed his most difficult task first thing in the morning, then nothing else in the day could affect him and slow him down. He glanced again at his watch, changing the display from stopwatch to time. Seven a.m. Time he got showered and changed.

Jacob stood, mopped up the pool of sweat with his hand towel, and with a nod at Tom, headed for the changing rooms.

Tom’s Gym was basic and small, tucked away on the fifteenth floor of an old office building on the edge of Hong Kong’s Central District. Jacob had been going there since he had moved to Hong Kong two years previously. It was cheap, but more importantly, it was no-frills, and the people who trained there were serious about fitness. Jacob’s colleagues frequented the fancier modern fitness centers in Central, but that was mainly to see and be seen.

Jacob stripped and showered, finishing with thirty seconds of cold water before stepping out and toweling himself dry.

He glanced toward the TV screen on the wall. The sound was on mute, but a ticker tape of news scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Markets were slightly down across the region, the U.S. and China becoming embroiled in a trade war. Jacob shrugged. It wasn’t really going to affect him much. Jacob worked in real estate, helping manage shopping malls and office buildings for one of Hong Kong’s biggest property investment companies. Whatever happened in the world, everyone knew Hong Kong property would always be a safe bet. Since leaving his native Australia two years ago, Jacob had only seen the market go up, his employer’s fortunes increasing beyond comprehension. The figures were staggering, the work extremely challenging, but Jacob couldn’t imagine doing anything else. He loved his job, and he loved this city. It was exciting, and he was master of his universe. He exchanged his G-Shock for his Omega Speedmaster, fastened the French cuffs of his tailored shirt with a pair of gold cufflinks, but left his tie in his bag, and slung his suit jacket over his shoulder. He would put those on once he had completely cooled down. He glanced at his watch again—on schedule. Time to grab a coffee, have a quick read of the papers, and still be the first one in the office.

2

Jacob scanned the financial pages while he waited for his coffee to be brewed, then turned to the front page.

He frowned as he read the headlines—another weekend of protests. Shaking his head, he glanced over at the counter where the young Nepali man was carefully pouring hot water into the V60 coffee filter. He stopped pouring and looked up, meeting Jacob’s eye with a smile, and Jacob nodded in reply. What was the guy’s name? Thapa? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he made excellent coffee. Jacob had been getting his morning coffee fix here every day for the past year, but he wasn’t interested in making friends with the guy. He wasn’t useful to his career.

Jacob looked back to the newspaper and speed read the article. He wished the bloody kids would just go back to school and stop destroying the city. The problem with these young people is they had too much time on their hands. Study, get a job, work hard—that’s how you got ahead in life. Not by throwing stones on the street or... His eyes narrowed. Shit. Smashing up a shopfront. That was one of his company’s tenants. Jacob looked up and stared out the window at the street.

A row of cars idled, waiting for the lights to change, but Jacob didn’t see them, his mind whirring. The retailer’s insurance would pay for the damage, but they would be out of business for a week. He would have to pay the tenant a visit, maybe offer some assistance, a week or two rent free to cover the loss of business. The company could afford it. The most important thing was to keep the tenant. They couldn’t afford to have the premises vacant. The building’s value was based on the rent coming in, and with the ongoing protests, companies were thinking twice about expanding and keeping a watchful eye on expenses.

Jacob was confident the market would survive, as it always did. It weathered the storms and continued upward. These protests were just a minor irritation in the scheme of things. A pesky mosquito that needed to be squashed. Once the school holidays ended, Jacob was sure it would all die down, and Hong Kong people could go back to what they did best—making money.

Mr. Jacob?

Jacob pulled his attention back to the cafe and turned. The Nepalese barista was smiling and holding up a takeaway coffee cup. Jacob folded the newspaper, pushed back his chair, and walked over to the counter.

Taking the cup, he nodded thanks and pushed his way out the door onto the street. Heading downhill toward his office, his mind went back to the protests. He couldn’t understand what people were complaining about. The protests had started almost two months earlier over a bill to allow the extradition of criminal suspects to other countries—the Fugitive Offenders and Mutual Legal Assistance in Criminal Matters Legislation (Amendment) Bill 2019—perfectly reasonable. Every country had extradition laws.

Hong Kong couldn’t be a place where fugitives from justice could avoid prosecution. That’s why Hong Kong was a thriving international city. Companies set up business here because it was safe, had a good legal framework, and of course, a favorable taxation environment. It couldn’t be allowed to become a criminal haven. Jacob glanced to his right, waited for a gap in the traffic, and stepped off the curb, crossing to the other side.

People objected to the law because they felt it would allow China to extradite criminals to the mainland where the legal system was, even Jacob had to admit, not the best. But people had to face the fact Hong Kong was part of China. If China wanted to get someone in Hong Kong, they could just come in and take them. They had already done it—the five booksellers who had mysteriously disappeared in 2015, then the Chinese Billionaire, Xiao Jianhua, taken from the Four Seasons Hotel by Chinese Security Agents in 2017. Adding an extradition law wouldn’t change anything.

Jacob took a sip of his coffee and pursed his lips in appreciation. That guy... Thapa?... made a bloody good coffee. Jacob reached the lobby of his building and walked through the automatic doors, nodding to the security guard, who rushed to the bank of lifts and pressed the button to summon a lift.

If Hong Kongers thought they could be independent, they were dreaming. The Sino-British Joint Declaration signed between Great Britain and China which allowed Hong Kong to govern itself only lasted until 2047. Hong Kongers should just get on with their lives and make money, instead of marching in the streets.

The lift chimed its arrival, and Jacob stepped inside. The security guard reached in and pressed the button for the twenty-eighth floor, then stepped back. Jacob nodded at him as the doors closed. Anyway, enough time wasting his bandwidth, thinking about the protests. He checked his watch—still on schedule. He had a meeting to prepare for.

3

O ffice vacancy rates in our Central buildings are up 0.3% over the last quarter to 2.6%.

Jacob paused as he heard a throat being cleared and looked away from the screen toward the boardroom table. The chairman of Pegasus Land, Ronald Yu, stared at Jacob over the rims of his gold-rimmed reading glasses.

That’s the highest it’s ever been?

Jacob suppressed a smile and nodded. Most investors in the world would celebrate a vacancy rate of only 2.6%, but here in the most expensive commercial property market in the world, it was something to be wary of.

Yes, but in world terms, it’s insignificant.

Ronald Yu frowned. "Hmmm. Rentals?

Down 0.1%.

Ronald Yu scribbled a note on the pad in front of him before looking up and addressing the staff seated around the table.

I want you all to monitor this. We can’t afford to let these numbers slide anymore. Adrian, how’s it going on the leasing front?

Adrian sat forward in his chair, glanced at Jacob, then turned to face Ronald.

Ah, we are down on inquiries at the moment. A lot of companies are wary of expanding in the current climate.

Ronald stared at Adrian, making the young leasing manager uncomfortable. He adjusted his glasses with his right hand and looked down at the table.

Has the deal with the co-working company been done yet?

I’m working on it. Almost there.

Get it done.

Adrian gulped. Yes. Sitting back in his chair, he looked toward Jacob for help, hoping the pressure was off him.

Jacob felt for his colleague. He was good at his job, but when the news was constantly filled with stories of riots on the streets of Hong Kong, it would be hard for even the best salesman in the world to convince a company to commit to leasing space.

Jacob felt Ronald’s eyes on him. Carry on, Jacob.

Thank you. Ah... we will need to do some PR with some of our retail tenants in Kowloon. Another three shops and a restaurant were targeted on the weekend and will need to be repaired. It’s the fourth time in the past six weeks.

Which ones?

Three branches of Golden Bargainz and one branch of Pearl River Seafood.

Ronald nodded his head slowly. What do you propose?

Jacob looked down at his notes. I was thinking of giving a rent-free holiday for the period the shops are being repaired. It will be a small cost to us overall, but hopefully, it will keep the Golden Bargainz Group happy and avoid any vacancies.

Good idea. I’ll have a word with Winson Chau, the owner. I’m at a lunch with him later in the week. He shrugged. He should have kept his mouth shut, though. His comments against the protest movement are costing him a lot of money.

I agree, but the government will have a lid on these protests soon. I’m sure it will all die down. People are tired and want to get on with life. Once the students go back to school, it should go back to normal.

Ronald steepled his hands in front of him and stared at Jacob, saying nothing for a while before, Let’s see.

Jacob sensed he had said something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. He filed the thought away for examination later.

I’ll do the same for Pearl River Seafood.

Ronald pursed his lips. No.

Jacob hid his surprise. Okay.

Leave them to me.

Jacob was puzzled. There were rumors, the owner of the Pearl River Group was linked to the 14K Triad, but Jacob couldn’t understand what that had to do with Ronald. He mentally shrugged it off.

Is there anything else?

Jacob shook his head.

Good. Ronald glanced around the table, Let’s meet again same time next week.

Jacob switched off his power-point presentation and closed the laptop as the others pushed back their chairs and made their way out of the room. He picked up his notepad and walked toward the door, where Ronald waited for him.

Good work, Jacob. He placed a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. Keep those tenants happy.

Will do.

I want you to keep Friday night free. Join me for dinner. I’ll get Celia to send you the details.

Yes, of course, thank you.

A slight thrill ran through his veins. All his hard work was paying off. Praise from the chairman and an invitation to dinner—an impressive start to the week.

4

Jacob placed his fork down, dabbed his lips with the napkin, and reached for his wineglass. The dinner was going well. He glanced around the table at the mixed bunch of expats and local businessmen, some of whom, judging by their accents, had spent a lot of time overseas. Ronald Yu sat at the head of the table, observing and adding a comment here and there, but mainly listening. The food was excellent, Jacob’s steak seasoned and cooked to perfection, and the red wine was flowing liberally.

Jacob considered how lucky he was. It had only been just over two years since he had left Australia and moved to Hong Kong. Starting at the bottom, he had quickly worked his way up to a senior position, a position he couldn’t possibly have hoped to gain when he was back in his own country. The people around the table were all high achievers, high earners, company owners, and here he was, mixing with them on the same level. He thought back to his workweek. It had been busy and exciting, dealing with budgets unimaginable in other countries. Now, he was at the Chairman’s table. He took another sip of wine. He hated to think what the cost of the bottle was, but it was already the fourth one of the night.

He tuned back into the conversation as the volume rose.

What do they think they are going to achieve?

Jacob turned his attention to the speaker, an overweight expat in his mid-fifties, his cheeks mottled with the thread veins of a heavy drinker. Jacob searched his memory for the name... Michael... Michael Callahan. Ah... senior banker. That’s right. Jacob had met him before at a Chamber of Commerce lunch. He was a long-time Hong Kong resident with a home on the Peak and a holiday house in the South of France.

Hong Kong is China. They need to face the facts. Going out on the street and throwing stones is not helping anyone.

A chorus of agreement sounded around the table.

Michael swallowed a large mouthful of red wine, dumped the empty glass back on the table, then waved his hand in the air, trying to get the waiters’ attention.

If they think they can take on the most powerful country in the world, they are living in dreamland.

Jacob nodded in agreement as a waiter topped up Michael’s glass with the remains of the bottle. The waiter looked toward Ronald and held up the empty bottle, and Ronald gave a subtle nod.

A thirty-something Hong Kong man cleared his throat. Michael, do you think Nelson Mandela thought that when he took on the South African government?

Michael spluttered. The South African government? He looked around the table as if everyone should agree what a ridiculous comparison that was. Joseph, you can hardly compare a bunch of white African farmers to China.

Maybe, Joseph shrugged. Okay, then, how about India taking on the British Empire?

Ha, look how long that took.

But they’re free.

Come on, Joseph. Look at the state of India now. Another expat chimed in. Everyone knows India was better under the British.

Yes, indeed. Michael slurped noisily on his wine. Well said. Is freedom that important?

Joseph smiled and looked down at his lap. He picked up his napkin and folded it slowly before placing it on the table before looking up.

There are over a billion Indians who would disagree with you.

Michael shook his head. Look what China has done for its people. They are prosperous, traveling the world in unheard-of numbers. They own their own homes and have their own cars.

Joseph nodded. I don’t disagree. He took a sip of water, his wine glass still relatively untouched. But at what price?

They are free. They can do whatever they want.

None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.

Ha! Michael spluttered into his wine glass. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I bet you didn’t think of that.

No, it was someone much more intelligent than me, Joseph replied. He shrugged. Everything they say and do is monitored.

It’s not that bad. I’ve been to Shanghai. It’s fantastic. It’s like Hong Kong, restaurants, bars, fancy cars. All these protests are achieving is bringing down the economy. Look at the decline in tourist numbers. Shops are struggling. Michael looked toward Ronald. It must be affecting you. Rents coming down? Vacancies rising?

Ronald gave a slight nod.

Michael looked back at Joseph. I know you have a soft spot for Hong Kong, you are one of them, but you have to face facts. This is China. Like it or not, it’s their country, their city. They can do what they like. Everyone should just shut up and continue doing what made this city great in the first place—make money.

Ronald Yu spoke up. Jacob, you’ve been quiet. What do you think?

Jacob looked around the table. He wasn’t sure what the correct answer would be. Should he speak out or play it safe? It was the first time he’d been invited to join such exalted company, and he didn’t want to ruin it. He reached for his wine, taking a sip.

Well, it’s not really my place to say. I’ve not been here for long, unlike Michael here.

It’s okay, Jacob, you can speak your mind. Ronald looked around at the other guests. You are among friends here.

Jacob swallowed. I think Michael is right. It’s a battle that can’t be won. He looked around for reassurance as the other expats nodded. It’s affecting business. It’s affecting Hong Kong’s reputation in the world.

Joseph spoke up. How long have you been here, Jacob?

Jacob turned to face him. Almost two years.

You’re Australian?

Yes.

Do you consider Hong Kong your home?

Oh, come on Joseph, where are you going with this? Michael interrupted.

Ronald raised a hand. Let him finish, Michael.

Michael shrugged and took another swig of wine.

Jacob looked around the table. As much as anyone here. I’m here now. He shrugged. But who knows what the future will hold?

Joseph nodded. I understand. So, if you don’t decide to make your long-term home in Hong Kong, you can go back to Australia, right?

Jacob nodded.

Do you think your opinion on what is happening would be different if you didn’t have an option? If you didn’t have another passport? If there was nowhere else for you to go?

Oh, come on, Joseph, Michael spluttered. That doesn’t give people the right to be violent, throw stones at the police, and smash things up.

I didn’t say that. Joseph gave a slight smile. I’m just saying maybe there is another point of view. He turned to Ronald. It’s time for me to go, Ronald. Thank you for your hospitality.

He pushed his chair back and held out his hand to Ronald. Ronald nodded, said something in Cantonese, which neither Jacob nor any of the other expats could catch, and shook his hand.

Nothing was said until Joseph left the room, then Michael snorted.

He’s wrong. Things will not get better. As long as these idiots are out on the streets, it’s bad for Hong Kong, bad for business, and bad for us.

Jacob reached for his glass and took a sip. He hoped he had said the right thing.

5

Jacob stepped out onto the street, and the heat hit him like a wall after the chill of the air-conditioned restaurant. A siren sounded in the distance, and the streets were still busy. Hong Kong never seemed to sleep, there was a constant buzz—one of the things he loved about the city. He gazed up at the layers of neon signs rising high above him, flashing reds, whites, yellows, and blues. Causeway Bay was one of the busiest areas on Hong Kong Island, always packed, no matter what time of the day, and eleven-thirty on a Friday night was no exception.

His mind went back to the dinner conversation. He hoped he hadn’t screwed things up. He had left Michael and a couple of the other expats inside at the table. They had moved on from red wine to whisky, and as much as Jacob would have liked to have stayed to continue the networking and bonding important to any career advancement, he just couldn’t keep up. His head felt thick with the effects of the red wine... he had lost count how many glasses, his glass constantly being topped up.

Ronald had said nothing else to him after he had commented on the protests, and Jacob was worried he may have said the wrong