wake. The warship I had noticed turned out to be from New Zealand. As we rounded the corner at the top of the island, the buildings gave way to woods, and the chop of the harbor gave way to bigger waves.
It was too windy to unfold the map, so we invented stories for the other passengers on the ferry. Those two boys with bicycles? Training for the Tour de France, but their parents didn’t approve of them doing anything but studying, so they had to sneak over to Lamma to ride.
That plump young lady? Her pet turtle, which she loved morethan anything in the world, had died, and she was hoping to find a replacement in the wilds of Lamma, which was famous for its turtles.
As the island came into view, and the blur of green resolved into scrubby vines and banana trees, Ti-Anna grew serious again.
“He said one other thing to me on our way out of the restaurant,” she said.
“Horace?”
She nodded. “On the way out, he said, ‘Be careful about this man.’ ”
“Meaning Radio Man.”
She nodded.
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t really matter. Because if we don’t get something from him, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
So there was no Plan B? For a second, that made me mad. What if Kwan had been away when we got here? I had thought Ti-Anna knew a lot more than she was turning out to know.
Then I thought, if she’s been fooling anyone, it’s herself, not me. She wanted to think she had more to go on than she did, because she was that desperate.
And I thought, well, of course she’s desperate. You would be too. Just because she always seems cool and controlled doesn’t mean she has all the answers.
“Then we’ll have to make sure we do get something from him,” I said.
We picked up our backpacks and prepared to disembark. In an announcer’s voice, I said, “Now approaching the strange and exotic island of Lamma. Please enjoy your stay, and do not cuddle the turtles.”
Ti-Anna laughed, or tried to. We let the boys with bikes wheel off ahead of us, and then we jumped ashore.
Chapter 19
We set off immediately in the wrong direction. If anyone was going to report on our movements later, better that they see us leave the village the wrong way.
And it was a village—a few blocks, really, a street that curved along a not-too-appealing beach, lined with not-too-appealing restaurants. I supposed it would be festive at night, with terraces full of merrymakers and red lanterns bobbing in the breeze. But now, nearly deserted, with the sun spotlighting the mold-streaked walls and tin roofs, it all looked surprisingly old—as if it hadn’t changed in fifty years. It was hard to believe we were only a few miles from the technoglass wonders of Hong Kong.
We headed north, away from the restaurants. For a while it seemed very tame, with every tree numbered, and a couple of golf cart–like things parked off to the side. The path was smoothly paved. We might have been in a theme park that had been abandoned a few years before. We even saw a turtle sunning on a rock right off the path—as if the Hong Kong Tourist Board had put it there for us.
But as we rounded the corner and left the village behind, thepath started to get wilder. In half a mile or so, I saw what I’d been looking for: a dirt trail that doubled back behind the village, off the beaten track and toward the center of the island.
We started climbing. When we were well out of view of anyone on the paved path, I opened our map. The route looked like a straight shot—well, a winding shot, but only three miles or so to the other end of the island—and I thought we should be able to make it before nightfall, no sweat.
Ti-Anna waited patiently while I turned the map this way and that. She seemed to assume that if we started walking we would automatically end up at the right house, and map-reading was another one of my odd habits, like reading biographies of famous people. But she was willing to put up with
It was too windy to unfold the map, so we invented stories for the other passengers on the ferry. Those two boys with bicycles? Training for the Tour de France, but their parents didn’t approve of them doing anything but studying, so they had to sneak over to Lamma to ride.
That plump young lady? Her pet turtle, which she loved morethan anything in the world, had died, and she was hoping to find a replacement in the wilds of Lamma, which was famous for its turtles.
As the island came into view, and the blur of green resolved into scrubby vines and banana trees, Ti-Anna grew serious again.
“He said one other thing to me on our way out of the restaurant,” she said.
“Horace?”
She nodded. “On the way out, he said, ‘Be careful about this man.’ ”
“Meaning Radio Man.”
She nodded.
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t really matter. Because if we don’t get something from him, I don’t know what we’ll do.”
So there was no Plan B? For a second, that made me mad. What if Kwan had been away when we got here? I had thought Ti-Anna knew a lot more than she was turning out to know.
Then I thought, if she’s been fooling anyone, it’s herself, not me. She wanted to think she had more to go on than she did, because she was that desperate.
And I thought, well, of course she’s desperate. You would be too. Just because she always seems cool and controlled doesn’t mean she has all the answers.
“Then we’ll have to make sure we do get something from him,” I said.
We picked up our backpacks and prepared to disembark. In an announcer’s voice, I said, “Now approaching the strange and exotic island of Lamma. Please enjoy your stay, and do not cuddle the turtles.”
Ti-Anna laughed, or tried to. We let the boys with bikes wheel off ahead of us, and then we jumped ashore.
Chapter 19
We set off immediately in the wrong direction. If anyone was going to report on our movements later, better that they see us leave the village the wrong way.
And it was a village—a few blocks, really, a street that curved along a not-too-appealing beach, lined with not-too-appealing restaurants. I supposed it would be festive at night, with terraces full of merrymakers and red lanterns bobbing in the breeze. But now, nearly deserted, with the sun spotlighting the mold-streaked walls and tin roofs, it all looked surprisingly old—as if it hadn’t changed in fifty years. It was hard to believe we were only a few miles from the technoglass wonders of Hong Kong.
We headed north, away from the restaurants. For a while it seemed very tame, with every tree numbered, and a couple of golf cart–like things parked off to the side. The path was smoothly paved. We might have been in a theme park that had been abandoned a few years before. We even saw a turtle sunning on a rock right off the path—as if the Hong Kong Tourist Board had put it there for us.
But as we rounded the corner and left the village behind, thepath started to get wilder. In half a mile or so, I saw what I’d been looking for: a dirt trail that doubled back behind the village, off the beaten track and toward the center of the island.
We started climbing. When we were well out of view of anyone on the paved path, I opened our map. The route looked like a straight shot—well, a winding shot, but only three miles or so to the other end of the island—and I thought we should be able to make it before nightfall, no sweat.
Ti-Anna waited patiently while I turned the map this way and that. She seemed to assume that if we started walking we would automatically end up at the right house, and map-reading was another one of my odd habits, like reading biographies of famous people. But she was willing to put up with
Similar Books
