The Night Tiger(118)

“Yes, Y. K. was troublesome, digging for evidence to tattle to Dr. Rawlings. Too bad he always rubbed people the wrong way.”

“Was it worth it, selling body parts?” I looked around desperately. We were so far away from the main hospital now!

“It was good while it lasted. Though that idiot Chan Yew Cheung had to go and lose a finger in a dance hall, of all places. Still in a bottle that could be traced from the hospital. He kept it because the specimen number was a lucky 168.”

The numbers, I thought in despair. It was all about numbers.

“I thought he’d bring in more business but he tried to blackmail me instead. And his girlfriend was no better.”

“You pushed Pei Ling down the stairs.”

“It’s your fault, really. The two of you stood right outside the cafeteria, stupidly discussing a package that Yew Cheung had hidden. I was sure it was the evidence he’d kept against me.”

Poor, miserable Pei Ling. She’d only been concerned about getting her love letters back.

“I realized then that she had to go.”

In the uproar over the discovery of Pei Ling’s horrific fall, I remembered how Koh Beng had been the only person who kept eating. So busy pretending to be normal that he forgot to look surprised. I felt sick.

“How much does Shin know?” Koh Beng asked.

“Not much,” I said, desperately trying to hedge my bets, “But he’s suspicious.”

“Just when I thought everything was settled. Give me the lists. And that glass bottle—I saw it when you took the papers out.”

I’d no choice but to hand over everything, including the preserved thumb. “Did you kill the salesman, too?”

“No. It was just luck that he fell into a ditch.” He frowned, thinking. My head was pounding, my chest tight with panic. He was heavier than me, though not much taller. In a fight, the only advantage I’d have was surprise. Throwing open a door, Koh Beng forced me up a flight of disused stairs.

“What happened to Y. K. Wong this morning? Was that chance, too?” I said, trying to delay him.

I didn’t think he’d go for it, but he said in that terrifyingly conversational way, “I’d overheard him arranging to meet that Englishwoman, Lydia Thomson. It was to do with the fingers, though I don’t know what he thought she knew about them. Always a pigheaded idiot, Y. K. Wong. Anyway, he was getting dangerous, so while they were talking, I went up to the second floor, picked a roof tile from the stack in the corner, and dropped it on his head.”

“What if it had struck her?”

“Didn’t matter. Simple is best.”

We’d reached the top of the stairs, and opened another door. Dazzling sunlight hit us. It led to a flat roof that you could walk on. “Used for drying things,” said Koh Beng cheerfully. “There aren’t many two-story buildings here.”

In that instant, I knew exactly what he was going to do and why he’d had no qualms cutting me in the side. Wounds like that wouldn’t matter if my body were splattered all over the ground.

He must have seen it in my eyes, because he said, “I wasn’t lying, you know. You really are my type. But it would have been better if you were a little more stupid.”





47

Batu Gajah

Monday, June 29th




Ren’s eyes snap open. He’s been dozing, waiting to be discharged later today, but there’s a jolt. Something terrible is happening to Ji Lin. Ren sits up. Dull ache in his side. In fact, the only place that doesn’t hurt is his elbow, which is pale and cold. The nurses have remarked on that unusual blanched patch on his skin. They talk about it when they think he’s sleeping. Doesn’t it look like a hand? says one with a shudder. But none of that matters now.

Frantic, he looks around for a nurse. Tells her, stumbling over the words, that she has to look for a girl.

“What girl?” she says, annoyed.

“The one who came to see me on Friday.”

“Oh, a visitor, is it? I’m sure she’ll come soon.”

No, Ren tries to explain. She’s somewhere in the hospital. Over there, beyond the other building. The nurse sighs.

“When she comes, we’ll let you know. Now don’t get out of bed!”

In despair, Ren’s eyes squeeze tight, tight. If he grasps the white mark on his elbow, putting his fingers exactly where Pei Ling put hers in his dream, his cat sense grows stronger. He doesn’t like this new feeling, a dull heavy buzz that makes his teeth chatter, the bones of his skull ache. His lips move as he concentrates. Where are you?

Maybe it won’t work, she’s not Yi, but he thinks it will. It must. His fingers dig into that ghostly handprint on his arm. Dizzy, he holds his breath, calling.

And then it comes.

Blood rushes in his ears, his heart thumps wildly. It’s not Ji Lin; it’s the other one. Drawing nearer and nearer with long strides. Shoulders tense, he watches the open ward door like a small animal. It’s a young man in a white uniform. Ren has never seen him before. Definitely not, because he’s someone that you’d remember. Ah. It’s you, Ren wants to say. His cat sense blazes up, an electric burst of relief, but his throat is so dry that nothing comes out.

“Ah Kor,” he says. Older Brother.

The young man’s eyebrows go up. Then he gives a rueful smile. “Awake, are you? She’ll be happy about that.”