Frank Bowen Conspiracy Thriller Series

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The plane from Bangkok banked a hard left as it came into Hong Kong International Airport at Kai Tak that jutted out into Kowloon Bay over the impressive skyline. It was touted as one of the world’s most dramatic air descents and the two men would certainly have agreed with that as they stared at the sky-high buildings flashing past their window.

As instructed, Frank and Jimmy parted company at the airport terminal, shaking hands and confirming their meet rendezvous, before Frank headed out to find a taxi. The flight had been late and neither of them had time to lose. Frank waited in line for about ten minutes and jumped in with his small backpack when one became available.

“Tsim Sha Tsui star ferry please.”

Studying his map carefully, Frank plotted out his route once again. He needed to take the short ferry journey across to the island and from there get the 11.30am MTR train to Causeway Bay. He glanced at his watch which read 10:45. He was already sailing close to the wind.

The taxi crawled along the road and Frank looked across at Kowloon, shimmering in the dusty heat. Eventually, they reached the Kai Tuk tunnel where bright sunshine was replaced by the artificial glare of the tunnel lights. They reappeared onto the East Kowloon corridor and headed towards the west of the city, where ramshackled buildings, covered in Chinese graffiti, towered over them on each side.

After cutting through a number of side streets, they rounded a corner and the majestic scene of Hong Kong Island, with modern, jutting skyscrapers and the mountainous peaks behind them, came into view.

At the ferry terminal, Frank paid the driver and joined the crowds of locals mixed with tourists, moving slowly through the turnstiles into the waiting area.

Climbing up to the upper deck Frank leaned against the rail, gazing across the water as the ferry began its short journey. Another ferry passed them; heading in the opposite direction and a tugboat scooted across their path up ahead.

He glanced at his Omega for the umpteenth time. The layered ferry terminal slated on concrete pillars grew closer and Frank moved towards the exit bay to get off quickly. Once clear of the departing crowd he jogged towards the main Connaught Road, asking general directions on the way, hardly waiting for the details. After getting lost for five precious minutes, Frank spotted the entrance and ran down the steps, joining a small queue at a ticket office. The time was 11.28am; he had two minutes. It was the train he had to get, no earlier, no later. That was the instruction.

He wished he had pushed for an earlier flight as his heart pumped in his chest, waiting behind an old woman, as she spoke to the official behind the glass.

Finally, she had her ticket and Frank stepped up to the booth quickly, ordering his, before bolting through the turnstile. His quickening steps weaved through people on the escalator down to the platform, where he caught a glimpse of the last passengers getting onto his train. The doors clunked shut just as his feet reached the smoothly polished platform.

Frank swore out loud as the train moved steadily away from him. He watched the glint of the end carriage disappear into the darkness, the rumble on the tracks fading until it had disappeared completely, leaving him staring at the dark red tiles of the tunnel wall.

“There goes five grand,” he said out loud, dropping his haversack onto the ground in despair. “s**t!”

Frank loitered for a while, pacing the platform and then decided to leave the station. He walked back out onto the road and briefly glanced into a bar with a television that had attracted a small crowd. It was time to think this through and figure out how he was going explain this screw-up and, more importantly, figure how he could get the rest of the money.

The smoke filled bar was darkly lit, despite the hour, and he nodded to the barman who was making himself busy whilst glancing at the nearest television screen.

Frank sipped his beer and tried to think. All he could do was meet Jimmy at the rendezvous hostel and take it from there. His eyes wandered to the screen that a group of Chinese businessmen and locals were watching so avidly.

The anchorman spoke hurriedly in the local dialect against backdrop footage of rising smoke coming from a familiar skyline. Hong Kong’s skyline. The shot changed to a reporter on the street talking to the camera. Behind him was a scene of chaos with policemen, ambulance crews and wounded civilians.

What followed next ran an ice cold chill through Frank’s entire body—a still photographic mug shot of his friend, Jimmy Duffy, suddenly filled the screen.