'It took some string-pulling, but yeah.' The courier unlocked the briefcase and withdrew a slim silver box with no obvious seams or markings. 'Here you go. Hope you know what you're doing with it.'

'Yeah, me too.' Barry hoped he sounded like he was joking.

'Why the second chopper?' the courier asked.

Barry pointed back towards one of the Portakabins, from which Clark and Gibson were escorting the prisoners. The prisoners' hands were bound with pull-through plastic ties, but they still looked dangerous and the UNIT troops kept their fingers on their triggers. 'We've got some passengers for you. Illegal loggers, raising money for the Khmer Rouge. Their camp here is a little home from home. The only problem is it doesn't have cable.'

The courier smiled sympathetically. 'It's a jungle out here.'

'Yeah. Keep these prisoners incommunicado until after Tsang hears from us. I don't want any leaks.'

The Club Shanghai was - and still is - an art deco pastiche of a 193Os-style Shanghai nightclub. The entrance is a black marble moongate which leads into a complex filled with panelled screen walls. The mirrors are etched with sinuous dragons of good fortune.

Tse Hung found it all a bit much. It followed the fashion set by the China Club, but without that club's subtlety or heart. It was more for tourists, and for those too unfashionable to know that being an Anglophile was out in favour of being a Sinophile.

The decor was even in sufficiently dubious taste to include a cabinet full of natural sex-enhancing remedies and potions. It was exactly the sort of place the Waking Bears would think of as the epitome of the exotic East.

On the other hand, Tse Hung was sufficiently respected here for half a dozen people to rush over to pay the cover charge when they saw him enter.

Pausing only to buy a ludicrously expensive cognac, he scanned the room for the Russian he was due to meet. It wasn't hard to spot him: in a room full of casual evening-wear and cheong-sams, he and his entourage were the only ones in leather jackets, jeans and white trainers. Tse Hung would have thought they were rich enough to have better fashion sense.

The Russian, Borisovich, was already sitting, his table populated by empty shot glasses. Tse Hung put his briefcase between his ankles and spread his arms as one of the bodyguards patted him down.

'Zdorova', Borisovich said, rising to hug Tse Hung expansively when the bodyguard nodded to him. 'Davai vizhirayem', he added, making an 'OK'

gesture with his thumb and forefinger and flicking at the side of his throat.

'Please, I think English would be better'

'Chevo? Shto eta bled'zayazik't Davaipo Russki'. The Russian smirked.

This was the kind of game Tse Hung wearied of. Borisovich thought that being the one to decide on the language they spoke would somehow give him more face. Worse, it meant Tse Hung had to play back in the silly boys'

game.

'Look, you don't speak Chinese, and I don't speak Russian -'

'Ah kulturno poprasit nel'zya, yop't'yaV That was more than enough for Tse Hung, but he wasn't about to lose face by letting the Russian take the lead in these negotiations. 'Ho. Met sik-gong yinggwok-wa. Net sik in sik guangdong-wcO. MoT Borisovich looked dismayed, then irritated. 'I have decided,' he announced, half-covering his irritation, 'that we should speak English.'

There were only a few people on the late shift in the homicide office, and they were all out on jobs, so Siao had the communal office space to herself for a while. Some skeleton keys had enabled her to pay an unscheduled visit to the personnel department and find some reading material for the evening.

It was usually considered bad form to read someone else's file, but sometimes it was desirable or even necessary. It had been one of those nights when you go looking for something you don't want to find, like probing a grumbling tooth.

Mark Sing's file was interesting reading. In only a few minutes of skimming it, Siao had found that he had twice been discovered on the fringes of corruption investigations, but on both occasions had escaped being brought up on charges by the ICAC. She wondered how he had managed that, and could think of only two answers. One was that he was honest and innocent - in which case, why would his name have come up twice? The other was disappointing and disturbing.

She closed her eyes, and rested her head on her knuckles. Why did it have to be him? She liked him, and they made a good team. Now she had suspicions about him, which meant she would have to be more careful in what she said and did in his presence. If she couldn't trust him, they wouldn't be a team, but she could hardly just come out and say. 'I saw this in your file, could you explain it could you explain it ?' ?'

It would be a terrible thing to ruin an effective team, but sometimes one or another member of a team made that inevitable. At times like this, she wished she'd just stayed home with Eddie and helped her kids with their homework. Forsaking loved ones for the greater good was one thing, but there was no merit in forsaking them for something that could only cause more stress and pain.

Overwhelmingly, she needed her husband's arms around her at that moment. It was a call that couldn't be resisted. She opened her eyes and lifted the file folder to close it. Then her eyes fell on something that didn't make a difference to how she felt, but was a curious coincidence.

There had been a UFO sighting near Sing's home several months ago - reported by someone else. He had never mentioned it, and she wasn't surprised. With the world's largest air force only a few miles away, she would expect some extra overflights before Beijing took over. It wasn't quite sabre-rattling, but it was a message she fully expected.

She closed the file, and put it back in the personnel department. It was time to go home, love her family and wait until tomorrow to decide what to do about Mark Sing.

Chiu looked out over Hong Kong from the rooftop where he sat. From below, the sugary nothingness of the local pop scene washed over him, but he hardly felt it. Where music should be a glorious storm carrying the listener through sea and sky, the local Cantopop was the exhalation of some insects in a garden.

The lights of the Central District across the harbour were bright and beautiful. The light pollution from them cast a glow over the few high clouds. It was just light enough to make out the shape of Hong Kong Peak looming above the metropolis.

The city, mountain and ethereal sky reminded Chiu of many places he had seen in his lifetime. Good places and bad. A mountain where he composed his finest concerto to date. A city where he was wounded by disruptor-fire from a building that should have been targeted before the ground troops landed.

On a pad, he idly - almost unconsciously - began scribbling notes, stanzas, bars bars All on separate files on the clipboard he held. It wasn't just the place, but the attitude and atmosphere of its people that inspired him. All on separate files on the clipboard he held. It wasn't just the place, but the attitude and atmosphere of its people that inspired him.

He would write them something. A wordless song. Something haunting and emotive, yet uplifting; in the end, a tribute. It was always possible that none of his people would ever hear it but he would feel better for creating it.

Chiu paused, thinking of the tone of the piece he had started to compose.

Haunting, emotive and uplifting. Such a tone would also fit his own people: victims who fought back, made something of themselves, then learnt when to let go and be free.

He would make this a song worthy of performance in the great Amphitheatre of M'Khrosh at home. At least, it would be worthy of being played there if the place still existed. Chiu could already hear the song in his head, fully formed; it would be not just an honour, but relaxing, to bask in the glow of the swollen red sun and listen to that new theme.

But the amphitheatre didn't exist, and neither did a homeworld for him. Chiu felt momentarily heavier, weighed down by sadness.

He stood up, saving the files and switching off the clipboard. He shouldn't be here indulging in personal pleasures. He was on duty every moment of every day, and should know better than to let his thoughts wander. That led only to the pleasant becoming unpleasant, and relaxation becoming depression. Leave that to the humans.

Mark Sing watched Siao leave the police station. She should have finished her shift hours ago, but seemed to have something important to do. He wasn't surprised; he had noticed a shift in her attitude after they met at Yi Chung's apartment. He wasn't sure what had caused it, but he could guess.

He knew she was checking up on him in his file, and knew he shouldn't take it badly that she was doing what she thought was right, but it still felt wrong. He knew she'd have seen the reference to the ICAC corruption investigations he'd got caught up in, but doubted she'd listen to him if he tried to explain. Even if he wanted to try, that was.

Sing knew from long experience that there were situations, usually ones that involved certain personality types, in which anything done in an attempt to make things better will just make them worse.

To his sorrow, this was one of them.

Borisovich had been downing double vodkas as if the distillery was going to be nuked in five minutes, but with deceptively little apparent effect. Tse Hung and the Russians had withdrawn to a more private booth, away from the 'chuppies' and period-costumed waiters.

'Your e-mail said you have something we might be interested in,' Tse Hung said.

The Russian Mafia tended to think of themselves as macho businessmen, great at making money and ruling their domains. People who were a little more objective viewed them more like wide-boys with more bravado than sense, and even less experience. Where the Triads were virtually a secret government that had been running an underground population for centuries, the Russian mob were the Trotter brothers with Kalashnikovs and rocket launchers.

Tse Hung didn't like them that much but they had their uses, and they were still a young criminal market. The snakeheads -illegal migrant smugglers - dealt with them more often than he did, but he had a few contacts just in case.

Borisovich nodded with a big grin. "The word is out that the Tao Te Lung is in the market for rare mineralogical and metallurgical samples.'

'Within certain parameters, yes.' Pendragon's parameters, of course. He had specified some months ago that should certain samples come up, either legally or otherwise, they were to be acquired. Tse Hung didn't know why, but he knew it had something to do with Chiu and his experiments.

'We know. A few days ago, one of our submarines discovered something on the seabed. They managed to pull a sample from it, which matches your requirements.'

'We'd want to buy more than a sample.'

'Of course. Which is why, when the submarine officers decided to make a little profit, they agreed to include video footage and a chart showing the precise location of the deposit deposit.'

Tse Hung carefully kept his expression neutral. 'Interesting. Did you bring it?'

Borisovich snapped his fingers, and one of his bodyguards put a briefcase on the table. Borisovich opened it. 'As you see.'

Tse Hung lifted out the piece of metal. It certainly was metal -smooth and hard - yet it wasn't cold to the touch, and it was flexible. It almost flowed.

Tse Hung had never seen anything like it, but it certainly seemed to be what Pendragon was after. How unfortunate for Pendragon that he had found it first. He put the metal back and reached for the chart.

The case's lid almost took his fingers off as it slammed. The Russian pulled it back slightly. 'We agreed a price.'

'Of course.' Tse Hung put his own briefcase on the table, opened it and turned it to face the Russian. The Russian pulled it to his side of the table happily, entranced by the sight of the money inside. All US dollars, accepted worldwide, not Hong Kong dollars.

His expression changed for the worse when Tse Hung shot him twice through the case's lid, with the pistol he had lifted out when he opened it.

Another handful of shots took care of the dumbfounded Russian bodyguard, who hadn't dared to check the case when he searched Tse Hung.

A couple of bar hops dragged the bodies away, while Tse Hung closed both briefcases and left with them.

Chapter Ten.

Early Warning System

ACTRESS'S TWO-HOUR ORDEAL.

A spokesperson for actress Sabrina Tso has revealed the reason for her having missed several days' filming on the TV soap opera, Pearl of the Orient She has spent the last few days being interviewed by police after an abduction on Monday.

Ms Tso was kidnapped from her apartment late on Monday night, and taken to an undisclosed location where, it is reported, she was sexually assaulted by several members of a Triad street gang. She was dumped from their car in the early morning of Tuesday, after a two-hour ordeal.

Although no further details have been released as yet, we understand that the assault relates to Ms Tso's recent much-publicised refusal to appear in a Triad-financed Category III production. It is believed that the attack was a warning, intended to pressure her into signing a contract intended to pressure her into signing a contract The Doctor slapped the newspaper onto Yue Hwa's desk. 'Did someone in this organisation do this?' he asked, quiet and dangerous. The Doctor slapped the newspaper onto Yue Hwa's desk. 'Did someone in this organisation do this?' he asked, quiet and dangerous.

'No.' Yue Hwa shook his head. 'I thought you might like to see it.' 'I don't like any of this,' the Doctor snapped back. 'Neither do I,' Yue Hwa said reassuringly. At least, he hoped it was reassuring. He didn't fear the Doctor, but nor did he want to get on the little man's bad side. The Doctor wouldn't kill him or be violent, but there was something about him that made Yue Hwa wary. There was an unspoken threat, not to health or life, but perhaps to the soul, about the Doctor these days.

"Then what, exactly, is the point you're so nervously dancing around?'

Yue Hwa tapped the picture of Sabrina Tso on the crumpled paper. "This is the traditional Triad way of bringing a woman round to their way of thinking.

I thought that might interest you.'

The Doctor's expression cleared; it was now more shocked than threatening.'"A traditional scare"?'

'Exactly. 'Yue Hwa looked around to make sure no one was near his office.

He wasn't comfortable taking this kind of action, interfering in normal business, but but He wasn't blind. He could see the Doctor liked the Smith woman. And, in truth, he was even less comfortable with this 'traditional scare' than with almost anything else. He wasn't blind. He could see the Doctor liked the Smith woman. And, in truth, he was even less comfortable with this 'traditional scare' than with almost anything else.

"This is what Tse Hung plans for that journalist.' He didn't feel the need to suggest the Doctor do something about it. That was a given.

The Doctor grimaced. 'If I order against it, I'll lose their respect and then all that I've worked for here could be jeopardised jeopardised I should never have invited -' He stopped. 'I will not let this happen. And this conversation never happened either.' I should never have invited -' He stopped. 'I will not let this happen. And this conversation never happened either.'

'Of course not. 'Yue Hwa felt greatly relieved.

Tse Hung was tired by the time he parked in the driveway of his villa. It was modern, overlooking the burgeoning developments under way at Repulse Bay and only five minutes from his father's nursing home -but it was quiet and relaxing. Sometimes he just needed to be away from people, to recharge his social batteries, and having a house in what passed for Hong Kong's countryside made that so much easier.

He liked to go out at nights and involve himself in every level of the Tao Te Lung's business but, while he considered himself above the law of the land, he knew he wasn't above the physical laws of nature. Sooner or later, any stimulant would cease to do any good and weariness would catch up with you.

The villa nurtured him and protected him, keeping him sane. It was one of the few things he had acquired legally, albeit paid for in untraceable cash.

His parents would never have approved of his association with a Triad, so he wanted to be sure there was one thing somewhere in his life that was done right. One thing in his life that was done properly made him feel a lot easier about all the things that weren't.

He had chosen to make his home that one thing because home was most important to his family. Tse Hung's father had never quite earned enough to buy his own home, and drummed into him the instinct and desire to do so. With the house being all legal, he felt his parents would be proud of his achievement.

Bonnie ling was already asleep when he got to bed. She was curled up in a vastly oversized T-shirt designed for bloated western tourists, and nothing else. The sight was exciting to him, but she looked so peaceful that he decided not to wake her. In any case, he was asleep as soon as the side of his head settled on to the pillow.

Yue Hwa watched from across the street as the Doctor went into the Win's Hotel. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he hadn't gone into this business to hurt people. Most people hadn't, in fact. They got into it to get rich without working in a boring dead-end job; hurting people usually came later, to protect their investment.

Little groups of suspicious-looking young men walking purposefully in and out of hotels and restaurants were common enough to be recognised for what they were. For all that, no bellhop was going to risk his own skin by trying to turn them away, no matter how obviously they had no legal business there.

Fei had been given a chance to redeem himself, and that's just what he intended to do. He and three others strutted into the Win's Hotel. Two of them had cleavers under their jackets, one had a switchblade and Fei himself had a pistol in his waistband. Fei didn't imagine they would need the weapons in this case, but they were always good for a scare.

The three with him were on their first real criminal outing, all over-eager and boasting about how great it was going to be. He hadn't bothered to mention that their victim was a harmless middle-aged woman. The middle-aged weren't his type, but he had to regain face and respect somehow and this would do it.

He decided he would probably settle for keeping guard while the others had what fun they could with her. That was what he went on to claim at his trial, anyway.

As they waited for the lift, Fei let his mind wander a little. He wondered what had really happened to Yi Chung. He would have loved this, Fei was sure.

Age wouldn't matter to a tomcat like Yi Chung. They all drew their weapons as the lift rose.

When the ascent was completed Fei and the others stepped out of the lift.

Almost immediately a red hook caught his wrist, immobilising his gun hand.

'That's enough,' a firm Celtic voice said.

Fei saw that the hook was an umbrella handle in the shape of a question mark. A small man in a cream suit and battered panama hat was at the other end of it. Fei tried to pull his arm free, but the gwailo kept turning and twisting the umbrella like some kind of kung fu man-catcher, so it always held him steady. 'She's not for you,' the newcomer said. There was an unspoken threat behind his words, though Fei doubted such a small gwailo could make good on it.

'Get out of my way, gwailo, or I'll blast you,' Fei snarled. He finally managed to free his arm from the umbrella, and took aim between the foreigner's eyes. 'I mean it.'

The gwailo didn't bat an eyelid.! don't think you will. You're not a killer.'

'No?'What the hell was this?