Freedom: The Hong Kong Series, #3

By Mark David Abbott

"A remarkable story written so descriptively that you feel you are right there in the street…"

 

A conflicted father…

 

After discovering his daughter is supporting the rioters, a furious Sergeant Andy Wong of the Police Tactical Unit, begins to question his own motivation for enforcing laws hated by the public.

 

A daughter exposed…

 

Alice's secret is out…

Her father knows she's helping the protestors...

and her friends now know her dad's a cop.

 

A helpless young man…

 

When bullets are fired on the streets of Hong Kong, Jacob Watson must sit on the sidelines, and watch while his friends and fellow protestors take on the might of the Chinese Communist Party.

 

Thousands arrested, bullets fired, lives destroyed. When will it end?

 

In the action packed final instalment of the Hong Kong Series, Jacob Watson, Sergeant Andy Wong, and his daughter Alice, are finally brought together by the one thing they all have in common.

 

A love for the city they call home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark David Abbott
• Release date: Oct 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223309963

Book preview

1

Jacob Watson bent double in the dark alleyway, sucking in air. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his back, and the sharp, acidic taste of regurgitated Sichuan hotpot coated his tongue.

He rolled his tongue around, generating saliva, then spat on the ground and straightened up. His chest was still heaving, and his calves burned with lactic acid.

Shaking his head, he took another deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. He heard a shout in the street at the end of the alley and stepped deeper into the shadows. The distinctive silhouette of a Hong Kong police officer in full riot gear filled the entrance to the alley. Jacob held his breath and pressed himself back against the wall, slowly sliding down until the stinking plastic dumpster beside him hid him from sight. A flashlight flicked on, and the powerful beam flashed across the walls and the surface of the alley, sending a large rat and thousands of cockroaches scurrying for the darkness.

Jacob clenched his fists and tensed his legs, ready to spring into action, but after a moment, the flashlight flicked off. He waited another ten seconds, then peered around the dumpster. The entrance to the alley was empty.

Fuck! he exclaimed under his breath. Exhaling loudly, he pushed himself to his feet. Remaining in the deepest shadow, he closed his eyes and thought back over the events of the last five minutes—perhaps the longest five minutes of his life.

Sitting in the restaurant with the volunteer medics, he had been happy, relaxed, and a little thrilled to be sitting opposite Alice, engaging her in a proper conversation. Their paths had crossed frequently during recent protests, and there was definitely a connection. He felt it, and he was sure she did as well. The way her eyes lingered on his, the little smiles, even tonight, her hand on his arm as she emphasized a point she was making. There was a shared camaraderie, an attraction, which may never have materialized if they hadn’t been working toward a common cause. The evening had been going well... until the cops appeared in the restaurant window.

Jacob grimaced at the memory and opened his eyes. Thanks to whoever was up above, he had been facing the entrance. He could have stayed and bluffed his way through the inevitable questioning. Westerners usually got lighter treatment than his Hong Kong comrades on the frontline. However, the one cop without his mask on, the team leader, had stopped Jacob before, and Jacob wasn’t prepared to take his chances. He’d already used up one of his lives and didn’t want to sacrifice any of the remaining eight.

But the look on Alice’s face as he had pushed back his chair and bolted for the kitchen was etched into his brain. He’d have to explain and apologize to her later.

Shit! he cursed, louder this time. He had no way of contacting her. He hadn’t got around to asking for her number. Damn it. He’d have to wait until he saw her again at a protest.

Jacob glanced at the luminous dial of his G-Shock. Almost five minutes had passed since the riot cop had shone his light down the alley. Probably safe enough to move on. Jacob slipped his backpack off his shoulder and placed it at his feet. Pulling the black long-sleeved dry-fit shirt from his back, he balled it up and stuffed it into the overflowing dumpster. Removing a light blue polo shirt from the backpack, he pulled it on. He couldn’t do anything about his black pants and shoes, but the colored shirt should be enough. He thought for a moment about the other gear in his pack. He hated to get rid of it, but if he was stopped now, he would have a hard time explaining why he was carrying a respirator, helmet, and gloves. Just possession of those items was enough for him to be arrested, and the way the police were behaving, would probably earn him a beating in the cells for good measure. Sighing, he pulled them out, lifted the lid of the dumpster, and stuffed them down amongst the garbage.

He zipped up the backpack, slung it over one shoulder, took a deep breath, and walked toward the street.

2

Sergeant Andy Wong of the Police Tactical Unit’s Bravo Company stood with one hand on his hip, the other clenched around the handle of his baton as he banged it repeatedly against his knee pad. He ground his teeth together and willed himself to stay calm. Sitting cross-legged on the pavement, facing the wall, were two young men, their hands clasped behind their heads as Ah Fu and Chiu searched their bags.

Andy could not bring himself to look into the restaurant where the rest of his platoon was questioning the other customers. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the look of disgust on his daughter’s face. What was she doing there? A medic? Helping the fucking cockroaches who were destroying the city! He shook his head, his frown deepening. How could she do that to him? All those nights, when she said she was studying with friends, she had lied. Betrayed him. His Ka-Tung. His fingers gripped his baton tighter, knuckles turning white, and he walked over and was about to kick one of the seated men in frustration when he remembered where he was. These days there were cameras everywhere, not just the press who were following them around like flies, but the public and their fucking cell phones. Cuff them and put them in the van, he growled.

"Sau dou, Ah Sir. Roger."

He heard a commotion and looked up to see Au Yeung pushing his way through the crowd gathered around the restaurant.

Au Yeung shook his head. He got away, Ah Sir.

"Diu leh loh mo! Motherfucker."

Au Yeung watched him closely but said nothing.

Andy exhaled loudly and watched as Ah Fu stuffed the scattered contents of the two young protestors’ bags back into their packs, then slipped their arms through the straps and fastened their wrists together with plasti-cuffs. Andy stepped back as Ah Fu pulled them to their feet and pushed them toward the double-parked Sprinter.

One man raised his head and shouted out to the gathered onlookers, My name is Alvin See, ID Number P349471 5, and I am uninjured.

Chiu reached out with a gloved hand and cuffed him around the back of the head, and the crowd hissed and booed in disgust.

Chiu! Andy barked, but the constable merely shrugged and grinned.

Andy turned back to face the restaurant.

Ah Sir?

What?

Who was he?

Andy glanced over at Au Yeung. A mask hid his face, but his eyebrows were knit together, and the whites of his eyes reddened from exhaustion. They had been through so much together over the years, and he trusted Au Yeung with his life.

It doesn’t matter. He took a breath. But I need you to do something for me.

Yes, Ah Sir.

Andy glanced back at the restaurant, then turned his back on the scene inside and leaned in toward Au Yeung. It was unlikely anyone would hear him over the shouts of the angry crowd, but he wasn’t taking a chance.

There’s a group of medics in the back left.

Au Yeung’s eyes flicked toward the restaurant.

I want you to take them out through the kitchen and let them go.

Au Yeung‘s eyebrows raised in surprise. Ah Sir?

Andy sighed. He had to tell him. My daughter is one of them.

Ka-Tung?

Andy nodded.

"Pook Gai. Shit. I’m sorry..."

Andy couldn’t bring himself to meet Au Yeung’s eye. He felt his colleague’s hand on his arm.

It’s okay. I’ll sort it.

Andy took a deep breath and exhaled, some of the tension dissolving with his exhalation.

Thank you.

He didn’t watch Au Yeung move away, keeping his eyes on the street. He would deal with Ka-Tung when he got home.

3

Y ou never told us your dad was a cop.

Alice frowned and kept her head down as they hurried down the street, putting as much distance as they could between the restaurant and themselves.

When the cop had approached their table, Alice’s heart had stopped, and she thought her luck had finally run out, but to her surprise, he addressed her by name. When he pulled down his mask, she recognized him but couldn’t remember his name. He had been at some of the police family parties and had always been nice to her. He led them out through the kitchen and into the alley, then told them to get as far away as possible. The others hurried down the alley, but before she could follow, she felt the cop’s hand on her arm. She looked up at his face, his mouth in a half-smile, but his tired eyes filled with sadness.

Don’t hate your father. He loves you. Remember, it’s his job.

Alice stared back, not knowing what to say, and the cop gave her a gentle push.

Now, get out of here before he changes his mind.

Alice? Why didn’t you tell us?

The question brought her back, and she glanced over at Ben. Her eyes flicked to the others, all waiting for an answer, and she looked away, her eyes back on the street ahead.

I didn’t think it was important.

"Your father works for those gau, those dogs, and you didn’t think it was important enough to share with us?"

Alice stopped in her tracks. She looked behind them and checked the street was clear, then looked straight at Ben.

I didn’t choose my parents, okay? She stepped closer, her eyes blazing, and Ben took a step back. Do you think I’m proud of what he does? Every day, I try to repair the damage he and the others do, the tear gas, broken bones, burns, and wounds. I can’t change him, but at least I can do my bit to balance it out. She took a breath.

Why? Do you think I’m not doing enough? Do you think I don’t care about Hong Kong, about our freedom? Every night for months, I’ve lied to my family, telling them I’m studying, when I’ve been out on the streets, risking my health, my life, my future, to help in what little way I can. She jabbed her finger at his chest. Isn’t that enough for you? She turned and stared at the others. Any of you?

She felt a hand on her arm.

It’s okay, Alice. She ignored her colleague and stared at Ben, waiting for his answer.

He hung his head and mumbled, I’m sorry, Alice. Looking up, he shrugged. It was a surprise, that’s all. Turning to the other medics, he said, We’re all tired, under a lot of stress. When you said he was your father, it was a shock.

Alice exhaled and felt the anger slowly drain from her body.

What will you do? Now... he knows? Ben asked.

Alice looked away and stared up the street, empty apart from an old man pushing a handcart laden with stacks of flattened cardboard boxes.

I don’t know, she replied softly.

She felt multiple hands on her shoulders and arms, and she realized they had all stepped closer and surrounded her. They closed in and embraced in a group hug, and she smiled. She had worked with these boys for almost six months, many medical students like her. They had been under fire with her, experienced multiple rounds of tear gas, dodged rubber bullets and bean bag rounds, and abuse from the cops, but were bound in their common goal of treating not just the protestors on the frontline but also the public. The cops didn’t discriminate. They shot and gassed everyone. These boys had stood by her, looked after her, kept her safe... they were her family now.

Do you need somewhere to stay tonight?

She nodded, her eyes tearing up. I think it’s better. She looked up and smiled at each of them in turn. Thank you.

4

Andy leaned back against the wall and stared blankly ahead. He was drained, mentally and physically. It had been a long day and night, and now, in the early hours of the morning, his reserves were spent. Around him, his men changed out of their uniforms and headed for the showers, but he ignored them, his mind only on his daughter. He could almost forgive that she was working as a volunteer medic. Almost. After all, they were supposed to be neutral, and in the medical profession, one’s first duty was to save lives. It was the lying he couldn’t forgive. The months of deceit, when he thought she had been studying hard at the university or her friend’s houses, she’d been out on the streets. He was working horrendous hours, putting his own life at risk, to give her the education he and Ah Mei had never had, so she could better her life. Yet she was wasting it all on the streets of Hong Kong with a bunch of criminals. What would Ah Mei do when she found out? He sighed and bent forward to unlace his boots, then hesitated as a horrible thought struck him. Did she already know? Had they both been lying to him?

A pair of boots appeared in his peripheral vision, and he looked up to see Au Yeung standing next to him. The young man sat on the bench beside him but waited until Ah Fu headed to the showers and the changing room was empty, before speaking.

She got away safely.

Andy nodded and continued unlacing his boots.

No-one else knows.

Andy kicked his boots off and sat up. Thank you.

Au Yeung nodded.

Andy shook his head and sighed. I never knew. She always told me she was studying. I believed her all this time.

Au Yeung nodded again and cleared his throat. Ah Sir, Andy, it’s not your fault. He shrugged. We all make our own decisions.

Yes, but.... Andy hesitated as he struggled to articulate his feelings. She always told me everything, shared everything with me,—his voice rose—and now, she’s out helping those fucking cockroaches.

Au Yeung glanced toward the entrance to the showers, then leaned closer.

At least she’s a medic. He lowered his voice. I never told you this, but my cousin is on the frontline. He’s out there every night, throwing rocks and petrol bombs at us. I pray every time we arrest someone, it’s not him. He shook his head. This is a bad time for Hong Kong. We are all fighting each other.

Andy stared at his friend and colleague, then looked away. Yeah, I never thought I’d see the day when Hong Kongers were fighting Hong Kongers. He exhaled loudly. You know, it’s all so fucking pointless. Whatever any of us believe, whoever is right or wrong, we’ll all suffer in the end. Just because someone in Beijing has decided how we should lead our lives.

Huh, Au Yeung replied, then chuckled. You’d better not speak like this in front of Chiu.

Despite himself, Andy smiled. Yeah, he’s a loyal product of the motherland, that one. He patted his colleague on the leg. Thank you, Au Yeung. Not just for this, but for everything. You’ve always had my back. When things go bad, there’s no-one I’d rather be working beside.

Au Yeung smiled. It’s an honor, Andy. And don’t feel bad about Ka-Tung. She’s a good kid. Don’t let this come between you.

Andy sighed and rubbed his face. Maybe you’re right, but I’m not looking forward to the conversation. As if we don’t have enough stress in our lives.

A couple of the men came back in from the showers. Au Yeung stood up and looked down at his boss.

One day at a time, Ah Sir. One day at a time.

5

Jacob removed the top from the bottle of San Miguel and tossed it into the sink, then walked back to the living room and stood in front of the TV. He narrowed his eyes, scanned the four simultaneous live feeds on the screen, then took a swig of ice-cold beer before stepping back to sit down on the edge of the sofa.

He’d been watching for the last hour and was on his third beer. Most of the action today was in Kowloon East. Someone had leaked details of a police officer’s wedding on one of the protest channels on Telegram, and calls had gone out to disrupt it.

Jacob had considered joining them but decided against it. He had learned early on, as a six-foot-plus white guy, he stood out in a crowd of Hong Kong protestors, even when masked up in a respirator and goggles. His talents were better served elsewhere. Using the considerable network of properties in the Tsim Sha Tsui and Kowloon districts owned by his employer, Pegasus Land, he had taken on the role of rescuer. With careful planning, a list of security codes, and a huge bundle of duplicate keys, he ensured when a protest went bad, he was nearby, ready and able to rescue any protestors pursued by the police.

He had saved hundreds of young men and women from arrest, and the way things were deteriorating, possible injury and sexual assault at the hands of the increasingly uncontrollable Hong Kong police. His alias ‘The Turtle’ was inspired by an unconnected conversation with the billionaire owner of Pegasus Land. It had become a legend in the encrypted chatrooms and channels of the protest movement and a cause of considerable irritation to the men and women charged with enforcing the Chinese communist party’s brutal crackdown on the people of Hong Kong.

Sunday night had been a close one. When Jacob saw the police enter the restaurant that evening, his first thought was he could bluff his way out of questioning, but that changed when he recognized the sergeant in charge of the platoon. It had been far too close for comfort. Jacob took the weekend off from his usual extra-curricular activities to reassess and recharge.

He had lost some expensive protective equipment when he made his escape, which needed to be replaced. The cost wasn’t the problem. Jacob was doing well at work and was paid very well by the standards of his home country, Australia, but getting his hands on replacements was becoming exceedingly difficult. The government had put a stop to imports of any item that the protest movement could use, and gas masks were increasingly difficult to get hold of. Even more difficult were the filters for the masks, which needed to be changed frequently. In fact, with the amount of CS gas fired, filters needed to be changed almost every day.

Those problems could be solved with money and determination, but Jacob’s close escape on Sunday had made him seriously reconsider his actions and the effect it was having on his life. He had come to Hong Kong to make a name for himself, to build a career in real estate in one of the fastest moving and most exciting markets in the world. He had done well, rising quickly through the ranks, and had been taken under the wing of Ronald Yu himself, the legendary businessman, said to have the Midas touch.

But the months of late nights, stress, fear of arrest, and almost daily exposure to the toxic chemicals in the CS gas were taking their toll. Jacob couldn’t sleep unless he had a few beers in him, and strong black coffee fueled his days. He’d lost weight, there were dark smudges under his eyes, and each morning, he awoke with a feeling of anxiety.

He’d reduced contact with his friends, the young men he used to drink with after work and on the weekends. He had little in common with them anymore. They wouldn’t understand what he was doing, interested only in earning and spending their considerable salaries. They thought the whole pro-democracy movement was an irritation and a hindrance to business, but then, they could leave the country at any time.

Jacob’s new friends were the brave Hong Kong citizens on the frontline. Brave young men and women prepared to risk everything, so they could remain free and decide their future for themselves, not have it forced on them by some faceless, power-obsessed old men sitting in Beijing. These people were Jacob’s tribe now, and he loved them with all his heart.

However, he also needed to balance that passion with earning a living. As far as he was aware, he was keeping on top of things at work, but it was only a matter of time until his exhaustion and stress caused him to make a costly error. Or worse... if he was arrested, it would mean the end of his career.

He took another large swig of beer, then reached for the remote and switched off the television. There was nothing he could do tonight. Pegasus didn’t own any property near the current protest action. Besides, he had an early morning meeting with his team, and he needed to be on top of his game.

6

B e careful out there. The roads are blocked, and the police might fire tear gas.

The young man ignored the advice from his father and closed the front door behind him without a word. He slung the backpack onto his shoulder and took one last look at his clothing—black shirt, dark grey running shorts, and black running shoes—then adjusted the black baseball cap, and checked his watch. 11:40 p.m. He rode the lift down to the ground floor, then stepped outside the apartment block, looking both ways before heading across the podium and down onto street level.

The sound of distant shouting carried along the almost empty street, and his nose twitched at the faint peppery smell of tear gas. Turning right, he headed to the corner and looked right again. A pile of debris blocked the street at the end where it joined the main road, and although he couldn’t see any police, the sky was lit with the red-and-blue strobe of police lights.

The twenty-two-year-old computer science student removed his phone from his pocket and scrolled through the messaging channels on Telegram. Finding the police sightings channel, he opened it up and double-checked the location of the police groups, then slipped his phone back into his pocket. Turning left, he jogged across the road toward the multi-story car park. He could get a good view from there and hopefully get a chance to relay the police movements to the protestors below.

He ducked behind the guard booth, keeping close to the wall, and once past, he kept to the shadows until he reached the ramp leading to the next floor, then sprinted up it until he was out of sight. Following the ramp around, he raised a hand and waved to another group of black-clad youths standing by the wall overlooking the street, then walked on up to the next floor. Walking over to the wall, he slid between two parked cars and peered over.

The road below, empty when he had crossed over, was filling as protestors retreated from the nearby streets. A shout rang out, then repeated as the protestors formed up along the junction. Figures moved back and forth, retrieving trash cans and wheelie bins from nearby buildings and piling them up in the road. A group ferried bamboo scaffolding poles from a construction site and lashed them together with cable ties, forming a barrier which stretched across the entire street. They left a small gap on the side, allowing more protestors to file through and regroup behind the barriers.

The young student moved away from the wall, wound his way between the parked cars, and moved to the wall at the end of the building, which overlooked the next street. He craned his head to the right and saw a row of riot police lined up across the road behind a wall of perspex shields, riot-proofed vans and buses queued up behind them, their flashing lights bouncing off the surrounding buildings.

He felt a ripple of excitement run through his body. It wasn’t the first time. He’d taken part in many of the protests in the last few months, and the fear-induced adrenaline still ran through his veins at the sight of the hak gou, the black dogs who were carrying out the orders of their puppet masters in Beijing. He pulled out his phone, opened Telegram, and after doing a rough headcount, typed a message. Thirty-plus dogs, multiple dog wagons, Po Shun Road.

A powerful beam of white light flashed across the building opposite, and he ducked as it crossed the street and played across the walls of the multi-story carpark. He waited for a moment, then raised his head to look over the wall and grinned as a red laser beam shone from the floor below, aimed at the faces of the riot police.

He slipped the backpack from his shoulder and unzipped it. Searching around inside, he looked for his own laser pointer, then remembered he had left it on the table beside his bed. Pook gai, he cursed. The crowd below roared, and he re-zipped his bag and stood up.

The police line was advancing, then he saw a flash and sparks followed by the unmistakable pop of a riot gun firing tear gas. He watched as the canister tumbled through the air, landing on the road below, then belched out thick clouds of toxic white smoke. Cursing again, this time for leaving his respirator behind, he pulled his baseball cap lower over his eyes and his shirt up to cover his nose and mouth. The bastards hadn’t even given a warning. The canister on the road was soon extinguished by one of the jung mou, the Braves, and they stood their ground, continuing to taunt the police.

The police line suddenly parted in the middle, and a group of figures in black sprinted through and up toward the protest line.

Shit, Raptors!

Below, the crowd scattered at the sight of the hated Special Tactical Squad. The young man’s heart pounded away in his chest. Even though he wasn’t at street level, the sight of the men in black filled him with fear. If they caught him... He shuddered. He didn’t even want to think about it. He’d seen what they did, had heard the stories. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he headed for a higher floor.

Once on the top level, he moved to the wall and looked over. Most of the crowd had retreated to the end of the road, but not all had been so lucky. A few bodies lay on the road, pinned down by two or three Raptors as the rest of the riot police jogged up.

Immediately below the young man’s position, a raptor knelt between the shoulder blades of one protestor, pinning him to the ground, only releasing him when two police finished securing his wrists behind his back. He stood up, kicked the body in the side, then rolled his head around his shoulders and swung the long baton in his hand. He turned and scanned the street, then looked up at the parking building.

The young man ducked back, but he was too late.

Fuck! He slid down behind the wall, his heart caught in his throat. Shit, Shit, Shit.

He waited a moment, then slowly stood and peered over the wall again. The raptor was gone. He looked left and right, but they all looked the same in the street below. He exhaled slowly, willing himself to relax. That was close. Too close for comfort. He moved away from the wall. There was a footbridge on the lower floor that connected with a neighboring building. He could take that and get away from the area for a while. He headed toward the down ramp and was halfway down when he heard footsteps. Rapid footsteps.

Taking a quick glance over the edge of the ramp, he glimpsed a pair of black high-top boots heading up the ramp below. He jerked his head back, spun around, and ran back up the ramp. He sprinted across the floor, looking desperately for somewhere to hide. On the side furthest away from the ramp, he slid down behind a parked Volvo and waited. He tried to slow his breathing, but his hands shook, and all he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Why had he come out? He should have stayed home, watching the livestream on the TV.

Bending his head, he looked out from under the car, and at the top of the ramp, he saw the lower legs of the raptor. He seemed to be facing the other way.

The young man willed himself to relax. He was safe. He wouldn’t come this way. The raptor stayed still for a while, as if listening, then turned slowly and started making his way closer.

Fuck, fuck, fuck The young man panicked. He had to get away. Looking to his left, he saw a van two spaces down that would give him more cover. Slowly he peered around the wing of the Volvo, then scrambled across the gap between it and the next car, then stopped and held his breath, praying he hadn’t been spotted or heard. So far, so good. Moving across, more confident this time, he got into a crouch, then taking a deep breath, sprang across the gap until he was behind the van.

He crouched, tensed, ready for the shout that was bound to come, but nothing. He exhaled, then took another breath, and using the cover of the van, slowly stood upright. He looked through the van windows. The raptor was getting closer, his head swiveling from side to side as he scanned the parking floor, while with his right hand, he beat a rhythm in the palm of his left with the baton.

The young man thought fast. It would only be a matter of time before he was discovered. Turning, he looked over the wall. Could he climb down to the next floor? There was a small ledge maybe three inches wide, just below. He could lower himself over the side and stand on that. He would be out of sight, then maybe get to the lower floor. It was risky, but it was better than having the shit kicked out of him by a coke-snorting raptor. He looked back through the rear glass of the van and saw the raptor closer but looking in the other direction. It was now or never.

As quietly as he could, he hoisted himself onto the wall, lying across it on his belly, then swung his legs out into space and over the other side. He struggled to breathe as the wall pressed against his stomach and chest, restricting his breathing, but he gripped the top of the wall with both hands and slid his body over and down. His fingers slipped as the full weight of his body began to have an effect, and he tightened his grip and searched with his toes for the ledge below him. They found nothing, and he lowered himself even more, stretching his arms out until his arms were at full length, but he still couldn’t reach the ledge below.

Panicking, he tilted his head, and the peak of his baseball cap hit the wall, dislodging it, and it tumbled to the ground far below. Ignoring it, he looked down. The ledge was another inch from his feet. He couldn’t reach it. Fuck! The fingers of his left hand shifted, sliding on the smooth surface of the concrete wall, and he pressed down harder to maintain his grip. He looked up, pressing down with his fingertips, and pulled. Raising himself a couple of inches, he dug his toes into the wall, trying to find a grip. The toe of his right shoe caught the top of one of the thousands of small tiles that formed the outer cladding of the building. His arms shook, and sweat ran into his left eye, stinging and forcing the eye shut. He scrambled with his left shoe to find grip, but then the tile under his right toe peeled off the wall and bounced off the ledge below with a clatter as he slid downwards again until he was hanging at arms’ length. He took a deep breath and looked up to try once more.

Looking down at him from behind his full-face mask and black goggles was the raptor.

7

Jacob entered his office, twisted the dial on the air conditioning to the lowest setting, the fan to the highest, then slung his suit jacket over the back of his chair. He’d finished his workout over an hour ago, and despite a shower and change of clothes, he was still sweating. Even this late in the year, the humidity and temperature ensured