Page 61 of The Killer’s Mark

‘Who the hell are the Mags?’

‘Newcastle’s home strip is black and white. They’re nicknamed the Magpies.’

‘What a bunch of assholes.’

‘All football teams have nicknames. Anyway, that brings us neatly to the ground rules. The first one is you don’t call anyone an asshole.’

‘What if they’re being an asshole?’

‘Then I’ll deal with it.’

‘What’s the second rule?’

‘We’re here to learn about Kai Jin,’ Poe said. ‘That means I’ll be dropping his name into as many conversations as possible. Hope that in a tight-knit community like this, word will eventually reach him, or someone who knows him. The object is for us to be easy to find. The downside of that is if someone doesn’t want us talking to Kai, we’ll still be easy to find. So if I tell you to run, you run and you don’t stop. You get the heck out of whatever place we’re in and you keep running until you’re back at the car. I parked at St James’ Park for a reason. Because of football violence, it has excellent CCTV coverage. If you can make it to this area, no one will bother you.’

‘What about you?’

Poe shrugged. ‘I’m scrappy.’

Esmerée paled a little. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe Estelle had been giving her more lessons in looking gothy. ‘Nothing will happen, though, right? These triad assholes aren’t going to find us, not on our first visit?’

‘I can’t imagine we’ll be that unlucky,’ Poe said.

Chapter 52

Poe and Esmerée walked under the eleven-metre-high arch that marked the entrance to Chinatown. Poe turned, pointed out the car. ‘That’s where you run to, Esmerée,’ he said. ‘It’s only a couple of hundred yards away. Wait for me there.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Esmerée said. ‘Is this it?’

‘Is this what?’

‘I thought you said we were going to Chinatown?’

‘We are.’

‘But it’s just a street.’

‘It is,’ Poe agreed. ‘It’s one of five Chinatowns in England.’

‘What a crappy country,’ she said. ‘Back home we have twelve Chinatowns in New York alone. A hundred thousand people live in the one in Manhattan. It’s the highest concentration of Chinese people in the Western Hemisphere.’

Poe glanced at her.

She shrugged. ‘There wasn’t a hell of a lot to do in Vincent’s apartment, and I like to read.’

‘Well in Newcastle, Chinatown is mainly Stowell Street.’

Poe liked Chinatown. Loved that red, the colour of good luck, was everywhere. Doors, windows, lamp posts; everything that could be red was red. He loved that the council had authorised street signs in Chinese as well as English. It made Stowell Street feel both exotic and welcoming. And his admittedly chilli-scorched taste buds thought Chinese food was second only to Indian cuisine. Estelle had told him there was now a distinct style of food called Desi-Chinese that combined Indian spices with Chinese flavours. Poe had handed her his credit card and asked her to book a table somewhere. She’d replied, ‘I’m not your fucking social secretary, Poe.’

Poe had no plan. He thought of his impromptu visit to Newcastle as more of a reconnaissance mission. He decided to go into the first restaurant and get his bearings. Maybe draw up a list of restaurants and shops to visit. Think about how he might finagle his way into the gold mine that would no doubt be the North East Chinese Association, the cultural and educational institution that acted as a bridge between the Chinese community and the local authority.

He walked into the Szechuan Palace, the first restaurant with a vacant window table. After they’d been seated, he said, ‘Remember, if I say run, you run.’

He had expected some kickback. An adolescent response to repeatedly being told what to do. But Esmerée just nodded. ‘I’ll make like a Russian and Fuckoffski.’

Poe smiled. ‘I’m stealing that.’

‘How do you go about this shit then? You just gonna ask randos if they know who this Kai dude is?’