Читать книгу Death Trip - Lee Weeks - Страница 22

Mann came off the night flight from Amsterdam, took the first high speed train of the morning into Hong Kong, followed by the MTR link to Central, and then went on to his flat in Tai Koo Shing. He was glad to be back. He was always glad to return; Hong Kong was always in Mann’s heart, she always drew him back home. But he didn’t like getting back to his empty flat. It held nothing but memories for him.

He punched in his door code, said hello to the doorman and took the lift up to his floor. Stepping out onto his landing should have felt good but it didn’t. Every time he came back he realised he should sell the place, but the same memories that made it hard to live there made it impossible to leave.

He opened the door and the smell of floor cleaner and window polish greeted him. His cleaner had to work overtime to find something to clean. He looked around: same plasma TV, same two chairs and same rattan elephant table with a glass top. Same everything, except him.

He took his bag into the bedroom and unpacked it on the bed. He tried to ignore the look of the crisp white cotton and the thought of the last woman to have slept in this bed. Two years after Helen had left in the taxi, Georgina showed up. He remembered the first time he’d seen her in Club Mercedes. His eyes had started at the feet and worked their way up. And his heart had stopped more than once. She had made him feel alive again, but that was when Helen’s body had turned up and all hell broke loose. He took his eyes away from the sheets and the memory of Georgina wrapped in them and knew he had to acclimatise and to think things over. His head was in turmoil. The gym helped him think. His body was designed to be used. If he didn’t, it got tetchy. He saw his body as his tool, his weapon and his protection—it was vital to keep it strong and supple. He stood six foot and two inches and weighed fourteen stone. Mann worked out most days. His body was firm and lithe, naturally muscled without being bulky. He had studied weight training schedules and alternated high reps and light weights days with maximum power days and he ran ten kilometres every other day. He liked being powerful but he didn’t like it showing. He liked to be light on his feet—he needed to be. He went to the gym on the top floor and spent an hour running through everything in his head. Magda had opened up new roads to emotions he had either buried or didn’t even recognise. The feelings he had towards Jake had unlocked his memories of his father. Jake was the same age Mann had been when Deming was murdered. At the time when Mann was pinned down and made to watch his father’s execution, Magda must have been nursing a newborn, Jake. That summer had changed Mann forever. And this one would change Jake. If he survived this he would never be the same. He would be strong, resilient but also vulnerable. He would always have an Achilles’ heel, just like Mann. Mann hadn’t got the answers to his questions about his father’s death and that was one of the reasons he had accepted Magda’s invitation. He wouldn’t rest until he knew everything he could about his father. Maybe Magda held one big piece of the puzzle over his execution. There were few coincidences in life: Deming died at the same time as he had a secret family on the other side of the world. If there was a connection, Mann would find it.