Feng Shui Assassin

  Chapter eleven

  Amanda swung out of the Ordo Laboratory compound and past the eclectic mix of protestors standing at the gates. They parted grudgingly as she inched past them. A large man in a duffle coat. A woman in a free flowing kaftan, barefoot despite the cold. A pale young man with the sharpest, bluest eyes Amanda had ever seen, boring into her as she drove past.

  She drove from the lab through the twisting fen roads until she reached a large roundabout that branched onto a motorway back to London.

  The interview had been brief and Professor Anderson was non-communicative. What did he have to hide? Amanda considered this as she flashed through the traffic, drifting between lanes to pass either side of the lazy flow of traffic. The Professor was a smart, articulate man. He was also evasive and careful in what he did or did not give away. Not a good sign when three of his fellow trustees were dead. Either he took his position on the board very seriously, did not think there was a connection between the deaths, or he was the connection and he was laying down a smoke-screen.

  As the city limits approached, Amanda again called the Bishop Reginald White on her hands free. Still no answer. Natalie Kelly, the magazine owner, would not be touching down for another few hours and Amanda was at a loss until then, when she would be able to arrange a video conferencing interview.

  A court order was required to approach the law firm again and the Financial Crimes people chuckled down the phone when she wanted the order for that morning. Late afternoon, they reckoned, and only if they could get hold of an amenable Judge.

  Kirkwood would not be impressed with further supposition and guesswork. He had allowed Amanda free reign to chase down the leads she suspected on the suspicious deaths. But if she didn't come back with a few hard results, the goodwill would disappear as quickly as morning mist.

  Blue road signs warned motorway drivers of the M25 looming ahead. Amanda settled into a lane and fished inside her pocket for a roll of mints. Her fingers touched a hard, cold nugget and she brought it up to the wheel to examine it.

  With a cringe of guilt, Amanda realised that she had placed the stone found in the wheelbarrow at the Walthamstow manor into her pocket and not logged it with other scene of crime evidence.

  The stone was black, hard and very heavy, almost like lead, with some sort of Chinese symbol engraved on the surface. The engraving wasn't ornate, but chiselled and roughly finished.

  Her fingers traced the rough edges of the stone. There was something beautiful in the crude, jagged outline and as she turned it slightly she imagined the unshaven jaw line of a man. Squinting, there was the hint of a nose and eyelashes on the profile, hair raked back along the skull.

  Black, sickly karma ebbed from the stone. Unseen but influential.

  Suddenly, Amanda felt so alone. A huge gulf of abandonment and emptiness opened up in front of her and she could see no escape from the fact that she would be alone for the rest of her life.

  Unwanted and unbidden, memories of rejection and mistrust swam to her uppermost thoughts. Failed relationship after failed relationship paraded through her mind and she could not help but focus on her own faults and the reasons why each man she had felt close to had walked away.

  Her circle of friends was getting smaller. Not that it was so big in the first place. After moving to London she had found it difficult to make any deep relationships, missing the childhood friends of her home town. Missing the casual, incredibly strong bond that came with going through the school days with a friend.

  And then there was Danielle. Her best friend since primary school. A quiet, withdrawn girl who suffered from cruel and casual playground bullying. Victim of a nasty group of older girls who bullied her with spite. She was barely a passing amusement to them. Yet it consumed Danielle.

  Every day was torture for Danielle and every play time a potential nightmare. She flinched at loud noises, grew quieter as the terms went on. Until one Saturday morning Amanda had dashed around to her house, plans to explore the wooded corner of the local park, only to be met by tearful adults. Danielle's father explained to her on the doorstep that Danielle had gone to heaven. He shut the door and she walked back home in a daze.

  Danielle had taken her own life. No one was ever blamed for the suicide, but the repercussions were immediate. The school clamped down on bullying groups after that, teachers patrolling the schoolyards and ensuring there were no large groups of children. Complaints and worries were listened to instead of ignored.

  The indistinct memory of Danielle's face blurred even more as tears rolled down Amanda's cheeks. She took a heaving gulp of air and - - the blare of a lorry horn jolted Amanda from her memories and she gripped the wheel tightly, bringing the car off the hard shoulder where it was trailing, and onto the motorway. The lorry trundled past her and she was thankful for the momentary privacy the massive wheels and side panels of the passing truck gave her. She wiped her face dry and placed the stone onto the passenger seat.

  Drawing in deep breaths to settle herself, she concentrated on driving for the next few miles. The bleak sky over the city threatened more snow, but for the moment it was dry.

  What was happening to her? She tapped a rhythm back into her fingers, aware that the stone seemed to have sucked the heat from them. The memories of long gone friends faded and Amanda turned the radio up as the latest catchy Christmas song blared from the speakers.

  Amanda pondered the availability of the stone, where you might buy something like this. It was definitely an ideogram symbol of some sort, and this stone was carried by either one of the mercenaries or the person they were hunting and who ultimately escaped. Perhaps it was a good luck charm, or that it was rare and valuable. And if it belonged to one of the attackers, and not Daniel MacDonald, then whoever sold the stone may remember details of the buyer.

  The scrap of paper was found close to the stone. Herbal tea from Chinatown. If it didn't belong to the dead Trustee, then perhaps that would be worth an enquiry. Hell, she was at a dead-end with the trustees and law firm, so perhaps she could burn a few hours and see if the store remembers selling herbal tea to any strange characters recently.

  Swinging the patrol car across the lanes Amanda took the next turning and headed into the West End of London. Guess work only went so far, and if she wanted to find out about this stone and the scrap of paper, she would ask at the source.

  Parking on double yellow lines on a busy through road outside Chinatown, Amanda walked under the red arch that greeted tourists to the 'street and a half' of China in London. She slowed her pace, sauntering past the colourful shop fronts, restaurants with red tissue balls hanging over the doorway and small arcades busy with old men at gambling machines.

  She pulled her coat close around her as the cold wind gusted down the street. A shop window caught her eye, the interior display had multiple golden Buddha's in various poses, yellow honeycombed candles ranging from pencil slim to elephant foot thick, red banners with Chinese writing down their length and Chinese New Year animals in different poses.

  Holding the scrap of paper, she compared the characters above the address to the shop front sign along the street. She found the shop near to the end of the street. The red sign writing on the window was identical to the paper she held in her hand. Without hesitation, Amanda entered the shop.

  A musty smell greeted her as she walked through the doorway. Carefully navigating her way around the display cases and tables, she looked at the figurines and touristy objects. She stopped at a glass cabinet which had line after line of red cord chains, some entwined with coins, others with hoops and rings or knotted in intricate clusters. She spent over twenty minutes browsing through the shop, hoping to recognise a carving similar to that on the stone.

  'May I help you?' An old Chinese man rustled long beads hanging across the doorway behind the counter. He wore a white cotton top and black trousers, thin and wiry like an aged Bruce Lee.

  'Perhaps,' Amanda answered. 'I'm looking for another one of
these.' She held the stone between thumb and forefinger.

  The old man's smile didn't waiver. 'We have plenty,' he said, barely glancing at the stone in his eagerness. 'What do you want? You want to bring romance into your life? We also sell the crane figurine. Very good for attracting a man into your life. Please, you try this charm. Green onyx frog with little red eyes. Carry this in your purse and the right man will be at your side, no problems.'

  Amanda took the green frog and held it beside the stone. They were not even wildly similar. She narrowed her eyes at the grinning shop assistant.

  'There is nothing wrong with my love life and I am definitely not looking for a man.' She placed the frog on the glass top.

  'Is that so?' The old man smiled. 'That is not what your aura is telling me. It is saying that you would find fulfilment with a man, if only you could shed the baggage of a doomed relationship. Tell me, was it a recent relationship?'

  At that moment the door bell chimed and someone entered the shop. Amanda glowered at the shop owner and stepped back slightly, allowing him to use his winning sales patter on the next customer. The old man seemed to recognise the newcomer and a flicker of regret registered on his face.

  'Salmon,' the shop keeper addressed the newcomer as if he knew him. 'You look like you have gone ten rounds with a 800 lb gorilla.'

  The newcomer, a Johnny Cash fan by the way he dressed all in black, said abruptly, 'I need a trigram mirror. An eight or a nine should do.'

  The shop owner ducked under the counter and placed a hexagonal mirror on the glass. Amanda continued browsing through the shop, looking for anything that resembled the cold stone nestled in the palm of her hands.

  'Anything else?'

  'Do you have anything for bruises?'

  'Just the thing for you,' the old man said, 'Soak in a bandage and apply to the area. Fix you right up, big fella.'

  The customer paid and left the store. Amanda turned round to see the old man facing her, his hands clasped together and an expectant smile on his face.

  'Do you believe in fate?' he said.

  Amanda sighed and laid her warrant card on the glass top. 'I'm not here to buy anything. I want some information about this stone.' She placed the stone on top of her photograph embedded in the card.

  'Oh.' The old man looked crestfallen. He picked up the warrant card and held it close up, then he brightened. 'Is this for an important case? You need my help to solve a crime of some sort? Like, I would be helping smash a drugs ring or solve a murder? I watch CSI all the time. CSI Miami not so much. But all the rest, oh yes.'

  He flipped her warrant card back onto the counter and picked up the stone, deftly sinning it end over end. His face darkened and he peered closer at the engraving.

  'Where did you find this?' he asked, the playful accent replaced by a serious tone.

  'I'm afraid I can't tell you anything specific,' Amanda said. 'It was outside a house. I think it belongs to a man I want to question, and I thought if it was a charm or souvenir you may be able to tell me where it can be purchased.'

  'Your path is uncertain, so I will explain some few details. This is not a charm. This stone is a bagua tablet. Normally they are used in Chinese rituals and practices. They are talismans for luck and fortune. Attach them over doorways, protect your home from mischievous spirits. But this has a bad sign engraved. Very bad luck.'

  'Would it be difficult to come by?'

  'This? Very difficult. Even the correct bagua tablets are a specialised item. Often sought by feng shui practitioners who wish to bring harmony to a home.' He hesitated, looking at Amanda carefully, then said, 'Come into the back for some tea. Nice tea, good tea.'

  'I really don't know if I have time.' Amanda spoke to the back of the old man as he darted to the front door and slid a bolt. He flipped a Cantonese sign over and hurried back to the counter. He beckoned Amanda with a bony finger and she reluctantly followed him past the bead curtain into a small room off the corridor.

  'Sit,' he said, pushing a chair with his foot whilst he filled a kettle with water.

  Amanda pulled the chair around and sat at a small wooden table. Bookmaker's receipts were piled under a small Buddha statue and a folded TV guide had been used to mop up a recent spill.

  Amanda thanked the old man as he handed her a cup of green tea, light brown herbs still circling the spoon's momentum. She remained quiet as he poured himself a cup and settled into a chair opposite.

  'This is nice, huh,' he said, cupping the tea in walnut hands.

  'Yes. I can't really sit here all day though. But thanks for the tea.' She took a tentative sip.

  'So. My name is Wing Loo. As in Wing Loo's Emporium. Has a nice ring about it, do you not think?' Wing said.

  'It certainly gives the right . . . image,' Amanda said.

  'And do you have a boyfriend? Someone in your life to rub your feet on these cold nights, hmmm?'

  Amanda sipped her tea again, giving this friendly old man a puzzled look. 'No, I don't have a boyfriend. And the comfort of my feet is of no concern to you.'

  'Ah. You are either a lesbian or work controls your life. Which one, I wonder?'

  'You can wonder all you like. Are you going to tell me about this bagua tablet?'

  'The thing you have found, the bagua tablet, it is not something you should carry around. It has a power.'

  'A power?'

  'Have you been having any nightmares? Remember things that are hurtful, perhaps some things that have been dragged from long forgotten memories? Bad memories?'

  'Not that I can think of,' Amanda lied.

  'Hmmm. Well, it doesn't matter.' Wing settled into his chair. 'The bagua tablet is used in the practice of feng shui.'

  'Feng shui?' Amanda said disappointed. 'So it's not real then.'

  'Not real? Not real!' The old man's eyes blazed. 'This is more real than you think. Thirty years ago acupuncture was not considered real, now it is used by many western hospitals. Alternative medicine is just that, alternative. Try and leave your prejudices outside the door next time you wipe your feet. Just because you do not understand chi, you think ten thousand years of belief and philosophy is just mumbo jumbo. Ha!'

  'Not exactly admissible in court though,' Amanda mused idly. The old man was certainly passionate about his beliefs.

  'Maybe not in England,' he glowered. 'But feng shui is a most respected force in the East. Companies regularly have feng shui diviners to ensure their businesses are profitable. Whole buildings have been demolished on the grounds of inauspicious feng shui. The power of chi has rocked economies and brought down governments, I tell you.'

  'Yes, I can believe that people believe it has power,' Amanda said.

  'Not only believe. It is a fact. Why, even my shop is built with feng shui in mind.'

  A soft chirp sounded from Amanda's pocket and she withdrew her mobile phone. Three messages, all from the station. She slid the phone back into her pocket.

  'Well, thank you for your time,' Amanda said laying her hand open for the bagua tablet.

  'Not so fast, young lady,' he said, placing the tablet into her hand. 'You must be very careful if you catch up with the owner of this particular stone. As I said, it is a very bad sign. Used correctly, it can bring much misfortune. This is like when you take something good and beautiful, like the Christian Cross, and you reverse it, make it into a joke or a sin of opposites. Either someone is playing a nasty joke, or the previous owner of the tablet is a great believer in the harm that feng shui can inflict.'

  'Thank you for your time,' Amanda said. 'And I really do appreciate your help.'

  'Open your mind, young lady. And be prepared to trust the untrustworthy.' She waved at him and walked from the shop. Wing remained seated. 'Because he needs all the help he can get.' He finished the conversation, idly staring at the leaves settling at the bottom of his cup.