Necropolis by Anthony Horowitz
“What?”
She was alarmed, but he held up a hand, reassuring her. “There is a boy who is coming to meet you,” he said. “He is on his way already, travelling from England.”
Her first thought was that it was Aidan – but that was ridiculous. Aidan knew nothing about what was happening.
“His name is Matt.”
The boy out of her dream! The boy who had led her through the door at the church of St Meredith’s. Scarlett felt a surge of hope and excitement. She didn’t know why, but if Matt was on his way then she was sure that everything would be all right.
“He is not coming to Hong Kong,” Lohan went on. “It is too dangerous here. But he will be in Macau. He is being protected by the Master of the Mountain. He will remain there until he knows that we have been successful and that you have escaped. Then he will follow you and our work will be done.”
“Who is the Master of the Mountain?” Scarlett asked.
“He is a very powerful man.” That was all Lohan was prepared to say. He straightened up. “Don’t speak until you are on the boat. If anyone tries to talk to you, ignore them. When you are with your new parents, hold your mother’s hand. She alone will talk to you and you’ll smile at her and pretend that you understand. When you are on the Jade Emperor, she will take you straight to her cabin. You will remain there until the ship leaves.”
“Thank you,” Scarlett said. “Thank you for helping me.”
Lohan glanced at her and just for a moment she saw the hardness in his eyes and knew that whatever else he was, he would never be her friend. “You do not need to thank us,” he said. “Do not imagine that we are helping you because we want to. We are obeying orders from the Master of the Mountain. You are important to him. That is all that matters. Do not let us down.”
They opened the warehouse door and, remembering her new walk, Scarlett went out. She found herself in a concrete-lined alleyway. It was after five o’clock and the light was already turning grey. As she stood there, a car drove past and she flinched, afraid of being seen. But she was a boy now: the son of Chinese parents. Nobody was going to look at her twice. Jet and Sing had joined her. The three of them set off together, making their way towards the main road.
The alleyway came out at the very tip of Kowloon, where the Salisbury Road curved round on its way to the ferry terminals. The harbour was in front of them. Scarlett could see all of Hong Kong on the other side of the water with The Nail, the headquarters of Nightrise, slanting diagonally out of the very centre where it seemed to have been smashed in.
“Walk slowly,” Jet whispered. “If you see anyone looking at you, just ignore them. Don’t stop…”
They walked down the Salisbury Road, passing the Hong Kong Cultural Centre, a huge, white-tiled building that looked a little bit like a ski slope. The weather had changed again. The sky was clear and the evening sun was dipping down, the water shimmering silver and blood-red. Despite the horror of the last thirty-six hours, everything looked very ordinary. There were several groups of tourists on the promenade, enjoying the view. Crowds of people were pouring out of the terminal for the Star Ferry, on their way home. Young couples holding hands walked together. Newspaper and food sellers stood behind their stalls, waiting for business. A fleet of ships, all different shapes and sizes, were chugging back and forth.
And all the time Scarlett was thinking – what is real and what isn’t? Which of these people are shape-changers? How many of them are looking for me? She walked on between Jet and Sing, trying to behave normally but knowing all the time that there were a thousand eyes searching for her. She was already beginning to sweat with all the padding pressing down on her. It made it difficult to breathe.
They passed the Peninsula Hotel. Just a few days before, Scarlett had gone there with Audrey Cheng. They had sat down for tea and sandwiches. It felt like a lifetime ago. They turned into a wide avenue and she found herself walking past a police station. Two men came out, chatting together in dark blue and silver uniforms. Both of them carried guns. Scarlett remembered what Lohan had told her. The Old Ones controlled the police as well as the government and the civil service. These two men would have her description. If they recognized her it would all be over before they got anywhere near the ship.
But they didn’t. They continued past and it was only when they had gone that Scarlett realized she had stopped breathing. She felt completely defenceless, waiting for someone to shout her name and for the crowd to close in. A few inches of padding and a handful of make-up was all that stood between her and capture. She was terrified that it wouldn’t be enough.
Harbour City lay ahead of them. It was just another shopping centre, though much bigger than any she had visited with Mrs Cheng. They strolled in as if that was what they had always intended to do, as if they were just three friends out for an evening’s shopping. The interior was very ugly. It was brightly lit with small, box-like shops standing next to each other in corridors that seemed to go on for ever. They were selling the usual goods: jeans and T-shirts and sunglasses and souvenirs, with fewer famous names than could be found in Hong Kong Central and presumably lower prices.
They continued past a luggage store and there, ahead of them, Scarlett saw a neon sign that read TSIM CHAI KEE HERBAL REMEDIES and knew that they had reached the place where the exchange would happen. The shop was directly in front of them. It was filled with cardboard boxes and glass bottles. Three people were standing with their backs to the front door. A man, a woman and, between them, a boy.
The woman was plump with grey hair, dressed in black. The man was smaller than her, laden down with shopping bags, with a camera around his neck. Their son was dressed exactly the same as Scarlett. They were waiting while the shop assistant wrapped up a packet of tea.
Scarlett walked in. Jet and Sing didn’t follow her but continued on their way. At the same time, the boy walked forward, further into the shop and disappeared. The man and the woman stayed exactly where they were so that as Scarlett entered, there was a space between them. And that was it. A moment later she was standing between them. The woman paid for the tea. The shopkeeper handed over some change. The three of them left together.
A mother, a father and a son had gone into the shop. A mother, a father and a son walked out of it. As they left, Scarlett glanced up and noticed a TV camera in the passageway trained down on them and wondered if there was anybody watching and, if so, whether they could possibly have seen anything that might have aroused their suspicions. But for the first time, she was feeling confident. She was no longer on her own. She was part of a family now. She would be joining hundreds or even thousands of tourists returning to the Jade Emperor. Even the Old Ones with all their agents would be unable to spot her.
The family left Harbour City through a set of huge glass doors that brought them straight out onto Ocean Terminal. And there was the ship, tied to the quay by ropes as thick as trees. The Jade Emperor was massive, with at least a dozen decks, each one laid out on top of the other with two smoking funnels at the very top. The lower part of the ship was punctuated by a long line of tiny-looking portholes, but further up there were full-sized sliding windows that probably opened onto state rooms for the multi-millionaires on board. The Jade Emperor was entirely white, apart from the funnels which were bright green. Crew members, also in spotless white, were hurrying along the corridors, mopping the decks and polishing the brass railings as if it were vital for the ship to look its best before it was allowed to leave.
Scarlett examined her surroundings. The ship was on her left, blocking out the view over to Hong Kong, with a single gangplank, slanting down at its centre. On the right, running the full length of the quay, was a two-storey building lined with flags. This was the back of Harbour City, the shopping centre she had just visited. Between them was a strip of concrete about ten metres across, which they would all have to walk along if they wanted to go on board.
The way was blocked by a series of metal fences that forced pass
The woman acting as Scarlett’s mother, Mrs Soong, said something and reached out for her hand. Scarlett took it and they began to walk towards the barrier. Nobody stopped them. Nobody even seemed to glance their way. They passed a restaurant with floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows and tables and gas umbrellas outside. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner so there was hardly anyone there, but as they continued forward Scarlett noticed a man with grey hair and glasses, sipping a glass of beer. He was partly obscured by the window but there was something familiar about him, the way he sat, even the way he held his glass. She stopped dead.
It was Paul Adams.
Maybe if she hadn’t stopped so abruptly, he wouldn’t have noticed her. But now he looked up and stared at her. Even then he might not have recognized her. But they had made eye contact. That was what did it. Even with the spectacles and the contact lenses, the strange clothes and the short hair, the two of them had made the link.
And Scarlett was glad to see him. For the past week she had been worrying about him, wondering if he was dead or alive. She had hated the thought of skulking out of Hong Kong without letting him know and if there had been any way to warn him what was happening, she would have done so. This was her opportunity. She couldn’t just leave him behind.
A second later, he burst out of the restaurant and onto the quay. He still couldn’t decide if it was really her. The disguise was that good. But then she smiled at him and he came over to her, his face a mixture of bafflement and relief.
“Scarly… Is that you?”
Scarlett felt Mrs Soong stiffen beside her. Mr Soong stopped, his face filled with alarm. None of the guards at the passport control had noticed them. Tourists were streaming past on both sides, taking out their documents as they approached the fence. Scarlett knew she would have to be quick. She was risking everything even by talking to him but she didn’t care. She felt a huge sense of relief. Her father was alive.
“Scarly…?” Paul Adams spoke her name again, peering at her, trying to see through the disguise.
“Dad…” Scarlett whispered. “We can’t talk. You have to leave Hong Kong. We’re in terrible…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
To her horror, Paul Adams grabbed hold of her, dragging her hand up as if to show her off. His face was flushed with excitement – and something else. He looked demented. There was a sort of terror in his eyes. He was like a man who had just committed murder.
“It’s her!” he shouted. “I’ve got her! She’s here!”
“No, Dad…”
But it was already too late. The uniformed policemen had heard. They were already heading towards them. The tourists had stopped moving and in an instant Scarlett saw that half of them weren’t tourists at all. They began to close in, their faces blank, their eyes shining with triumph. More people appeared, pouring out of the shopping centre. Matted hair. Dead, white skin. Their mouths hanging open. Dozens of them. And the flies. They burst into the air like a dark geyser and spread out, swarming overhead.
“Dad… what have you done?”
He clung onto her, one hand on her wrist, the other around her neck, strangling her. Mr and Mrs Soong stood there, paralysed, then tried to run. The woman was the first to be brought down. One of the tourists grabbed her. A few seconds earlier he had looked like a grandfather, an Englishman enjoying his retirement. But the mask had slipped. He was grinning and his eyes were ablaze. He was holding her with terrible strength, his hooked fingers gouging into her face, forcing her down to her knees. Then they were all onto her. Mrs Soong disappeared in a crowd that was moving now like a single creature. Mr Soong had taken out a gun. He pointed it at one of the approaching policemen and fired. The bullet hit the policeman in the face, tearing a huge hole in his cheek, but he didn’t even flinch. He kept on coming. Mr Soong fired a second time, this time straight into the man’s chest. Blood spouted but still the policeman came. Mr Soong was trapped. He had nowhere to run. Scarlett saw him push the barrel of the gun into his own mouth. She closed her eyes a moment before he fired.
It was easy to tell who were the real tourists now. They were screaming, in hysterics, dropping their new purchases and scattering across the quay, unsure what was going on, not wanting to be part of it. A woman in a fur coat slipped and fell. She was immediately trampled underfoot by the rest of the crowd, trying to get past. Two men were knocked over the side into the narrow space between the ship and the quay. Scarlett heard them hit the water and doubted that either of them would ever climb out again.
Her father was still holding her. She couldn’t believe what he had done. He had deliberately told them she was there. He had been waiting for her all along. And she had helped him. There had been one final trap and she had fallen into it.
“I’m sorry, Scarly,” he was saying. “I had to do it. It was the only way. They’ve promised that they won’t hurt you, and my reward, the reward for both of us – we’re going to be rich! You have no idea how much power they have. And we’re going to be part of it… their new world.”
Of course he had been in it all along. He worked for Nightrise. He had invited her here, made her leave school early with no explanation. He had been skulking somewhere nearby, leaving her in their clutches. And finally he had been positioned here, just in case she tried to get onto the ship…
Scarlett thought of all the people who had tried to help her, all the people who had died because of her. Mr and Mrs Soong had spent just a few minutes with her but it had been enough. She had killed them.
She listened to this pathetic man – he was still jabbering at her – and she spat in his face.
Then someone grabbed her from behind. It was Karl. She didn’t know where he had come from, but the chauffeur was unbelievably strong. He lifted her into the air, then dashed her down. Her head hit the concrete so hard that she thought her skull must have cracked. A bolt of sheer pain ripped across her vision.
In the final moments of consciousness, she saw a whole series of images, flickering across her vision like an out-of-control slide show. There was Matt, the boy she had never met in the real world, on his way to Macau. There were the other three – Scott, Jamie and Pedro – gazing at her helplessly. There was the beach where she had found herself night after night. And there, once again, was the neon sign with a symbol that was shaped like a triangle and two words:
SIGNAL EIGHT
The letters flared in the darkness and looking through them she saw the chairman, Audrey Cheng, Father Gregory and, for one last brief moment, her father.
“It’s coming,” she managed to whisper to them.
Then the darkness rushed in, slamming into her like an express train and at that moment she felt something unlock inside her. It was like a window being shattered and she knew that she would never be the same again.
And five hundred miles away, in a place called the Strait of Luzon, between Thailand and the Philippines, the dragon heard her. It was there because she had summoned it. The dragon had been sleeping in the very depths of the ocean but it slowly opened one eye.
SIGNAL NINE
The letters burned in brilliant neon light. There was a symbol beside it, an hour glass and Scarlett almost wanted to laugh because she knew what it was saying. Time’s up. The countdown has begun.
The dragon began to move. Nothing could get in its way.
It was heading for Hong Kong.
MATT’S DIARY (3)
I don’t think I’m going to be able to write much more of this dia
I can’t believe we’ve finally made it to Macau. Jamie is asleep, worn out with jet lag after another flight across the world, and Richard is in a room next door. In an hour’s time, we’re going to meet a man called Han Shan-tung who can help us get into Hong Kong. We’ve waited almost a week for him to turn up and I just hope that we haven’t been wasting our time. We have no idea at all what’s been happening to Scarlett, whether she is even alive or dead. Harry Foster, the Australian newspaper man who was at the meeting of the Nexus, sent someone to meet her – an assistant from his office. Maybe he managed to track her down but we never heard. The assistant went missing … presumed dead.
The Old Ones are there, waiting for me to arrive. In a way, it’s extraordinary that they’ve managed to keep themselves hidden, but that has always been their way. When I was in Yorkshire, they worked through Jayne Deverill and the villagers who lived at Lesser Mailing. In Peru, it was Diego Salamanda. Now it’s Nightrise. They like people to do their dirty work for them and when war finally breaks out, as I know it must, my guess is that they won’t reveal themselves until the end. And by then it will be too late. They will have won.
Maybe the five days we had in London were worth it after all. Jamie enjoyed himself, seeing all the sights, and in the end I enjoyed being with him. Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, Harrods, the London Dungeon. Richard kept us busy, maybe because he wanted to keep our minds off what lay ahead. We also spoke to Pedro and Scott in Vilcabamba, talking on the satellite phone. Pedro is worried about Scott. He still seems far away, as if he isn’t even on our side. I know he’s angry that I separated him from Jamie, but I still think it was a good idea. He isn’t ready yet.