The Feng Shui Detective's Casebook Part 12

Puk was baffled. 'But how? I don't get it.'

Wong turned to the security guard. 'When you look through yellow-tint security window every morning, you see old car. You think is Alfa. But really is their car with a few Alfa pieces on it. They gamble that you don't notice any difference between one old car, another old car. Looks almost the same. They think you and Mr Au Yeung too stupid to notice difference.'

The tyc.o.o.n growled: 'So they've taken my car away and left me with theirs?'

'No. This afternoon, they drove off in their car. So there is nothing left in the workshop-nothing at all.'

The tyc.o.o.n nodded, the truth slowly dawning on him. 'They drove off with my car and their car, the car your girl refers to as a Chitty. The flying car.'

'Yeah,' said Joyce. 'That's just my nickname for it. 'Cause it looks like the car in the video? Caractacus Potts'?'

d.i.c.k and Petey started to walk away.

'Stop them,' Nevis Au Yeung said.

Curdy turned to Wong. 'You can't prove any of this in court.'

'I don't need to prove anything in court. I am my own court of law,' said Nevis.

The four large men who always hovered near the tyc.o.o.n moved swiftly to grab hold of the Curdy brothers.

Security guard Alyn Puk was a changed man. He sucked his stomach in and somehow managed to suspend it at chest level. He strutted around, hands behind his back, chin high, pigeon-chested and proud.

'The barskets,' he kept repeating under his breath as he watched Harris Wu, Allie Ng and the Curdy brothers being dragged off by bodyguards to an uncertain fate. 'b.l.o.o.d.y doongu barskets.'

He saw Wong packing his charts into his bag and strolled over.

'Never used to believe all that feng shui feng shui stuff-lah,' he said. 'But I guess it does really work, no?' stuff-lah,' he said. 'But I guess it does really work, no?'

'The flow,' said Wong. 'Flow of ch'i ch'i, flow of cars, very important. That Wu, he keeps saying how important is flow. He boasts about good flow in garage. So when I saw how he made the rooms stick out so bad, interrupt the flow, I knew something funny was there.'

'Maybe better I study this stuff,' said Puk. 'This ch'i ch'i stuff is what?' stuff is what?'

'Scientist call it bio-electrical energy. Philosopher call it life force. Indian call it prana. prana. Religious man call it G.o.d. I call it Religious man call it G.o.d. I call it ch'i. ch'i.'

'Where does it come from?'

'From centre of Earth. From sun, moon and stars. From sky and from beneath our feet. From outside us. From inside us.'

'Can you see it?'

'I can see what it touches.'

Puk, still filled with amazement at the events of the past few hours, could not stop shaking his head from side to side. 'But how could they possibly think they could get away with it? I mean, someone would eventually have found that secret room that Harris built, even if it was months or years later, wouldn't they?'

The geomancer nodded. 'Yes. I thought about that. I think Harris Wu and Allie Ng plan to steal as many cars as they could-and then they would burn down whole garage, destroy the evidence. I study architecture. Mr Wu use many flammable materials. Unusual for garage. Very suspicious.'

Wong and McQuinnie left Ridley Park in Nevis Au Yeung's Lincoln Towncar, the two of them feeling lost in the soundproofed, room-sized cabin. They sat with their backs to the driver. Sitting opposite was Foo-Foo, who had offered to drop them off at their office on her way out for a little shopping on Orchard Road. The socialite stared at Joyce, who had become quiet and morose.

'Something wrong?' Foo-Foo asked.

'Naah. Nothing really.'

The young woman played with the ring on her finger. 'It's just-well, life seems so unfair. I mean, I know it's wrong to steal and all that. But still, your husband has got loads of money and cars. He wouldn't have missed a car or two. And- oh, never mind.'

'And younger Curdy very cute.' Foo-Foo looked away as she said this, to spare Joyce's blushes.

'Yeah.' There was a moment's silence and then Joyce realised what she had said. 'I mean, was he? I don't know. I didn't notice. I never notice that sort of thing.'

The three of them drove on without speaking for the rest of the journey, and by the time the limousine reached Telok Ayer Street, the young woman had begun to regain her composure. She had a question for Wong as they struggled up the steep, rather odorous staircase of YY Mansions, as they walked up to their office on the fourth floor.

'One thing I don't understand, CF. If the Curdys' car was green, and the Alfa Romeo was blue, how did they manage to switch them?'

'They put green paint on Alfa, drive it out no problem.'

'But how come Puk and the others didn't notice that the car in the sealed room upstairs was not blue?'

'Curdys very clever. They put yellow tinted windows in. Makes blue colour look like green. Anybody look inside, they see green car. But really is blue car.'

They arrived at the cracked frosted-gla.s.s door of CF Wong & a.s.sociates. Joyce grabbed his arm. 'Before you go in, I need to tell you something.'

'What?'

'While we were out of the office yesterday, I gave the keys to a friend of mine so he could come and use stain remover on the stain on the wall.'

Wong nodded. 'I know. Winnie sent me fax.'

'Unfortunately, the stain remover made it worse.'

'Also Winnie told me that.'

'So he came back this morning and repainted the wall. He said that was the only way to cover up the stain.'

'Good,' he said. Wong smiled. This was a happy ending to the stain-on-the-wall incident: a freshly whitewashed wall at someone else's cost.

He moved to enter the office. But Joyce continued to tug at the fabric of his jacket.

'Er, CF. I hope you'll like it. He said he thought it looked really nice.'

'I hope he use good quality white paint.'

Joyce swallowed. Her top teeth involuntarily bit her lower lip. She blew her breath out of her mouth. 'Er. CF. He tried painting the stain white, but the red showed through. So instead, he went back to the shop to get more paint. He painted -' But she didn't get a chance to finish the sentence.

Wong had stepped into the room and gasped to find that the entire west wall of the office had been painted a vivid shade of crimson. Like a wall opposite a Chinese cemetery.

He stared at it for a few seconds. The sight filled him with horror. Blood. Gallons and gallons of blood. A wall of blood.

'I think it's lovely,' said Joyce. 'What do you think?'

Wong sat down in his chair. 'Why do the G.o.ds hate me so?' he moaned.

4

A little computer trouble

In the time of the Tang Dynasty (618907), there were many secrets in the kingdom.People made plots against each other. People whispered about each other. People were very careful what they said. People were very careful what they did.All except one man. Official Guo Zyi took hammer and nails. He nailed his door open. No one in his family could shut it. Everyone pa.s.sing could see inside.When people walked past they peeked inside his house.Now Guo Zyi particularly loved his daughter. She was very bossy. He acted like a servant to her. People saw him combing her hair. People saw him cooking her meals. People saw her shouting at him. Everybody laughed at them.His two sons said: 'Father, please close the door. Because everybody can see us.'But Guo Zyi replied: 'I will not close the door. Because everybody can see us.'A time came when there was a great deal of slander and lies against officials of the city. Many officials lost their jobs. Many people accused each other.But throughout the period of civil disruption, no one accused Guo Zyi of anything.If you nail the door of your heart open, Blade of Gra.s.s, you can be beyond the power of evil ones who slander and lie. This is great power you can acquire for yourself, with no help from magic or from Heaven.An ancient Chinese proverb says: 'He who moves towards the light does not need the glow of joss sticks.'

From 'Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom'

by CF Wong, part 126.

Dilip Kenneth Sinha wound down the taxi window, opened his mouth and drew in a large lung-full of air.

It was stinky, pestilent and toxic.

The precise ingredients were hard to pick out, but he could detect several distinctive odours. Jira, dhania and petrol were the top notes, with subtle after-tones of garam masala, urine, dalchini, methi and perspiration. Sumptuous!

He closed his eyes and a warmth rose from the depths of his soul. The pleasure he felt was rich and wholesome and genuine. Yes, the air in this place may taste vile, it may be packed with particulate matter, it maybe dangerous to health, but no matter: it was home air. It was his his air. It was what he had grown up on and what had formed his body. He took another deep swig of it and opened his eyes to survey the marketplace he was pa.s.sing. air. It was what he had grown up on and what had formed his body. He took another deep swig of it and opened his eyes to survey the marketplace he was pa.s.sing.

People kept remarking about how Hyderabad had changed. They had talked for some years about changing its name to Cyberabad, because of the business community's talent for technology. But as he gazed at the buzzing, packed streets of tiny houses, interspersed with large, traffic-locked thoroughfares, what struck Sinha most of all was how little it had altered over the decades.

It had always been a city with a bit of bustle about it, and that physical energy was still there. Groups moved in bright, vibrant cl.u.s.ters. Most of the women he could see were wearing lahenga choli outfits.

The only difference was that the number of men scurrying along the pavements in lungis and shirts of coloured cotton or printed polyester had fallen. There were now more men in dark trousers, Western ties and white shirts-short-sleeved shirts, naturally. One even saw a not inconsiderable number of male adults in full Western suits. And if you peeled their jackets off, you would find three further layers of clothing. The silk-lined worsted jacket hid a matching waistcoat, shirt and singlet, all four garments bravely being borne in a land where a single light cotton shirt was the only sensible upper body garment.

Sinha himself favoured the single-layer safari suit, as popularised in American B-movies set in Asia.

As the taxi slowly progressed through the maze of market streets to the beginnings of the financial district, he noticed with regret that modern clothing styles had made the business area of the town less colourful than the rest of the city. The office district imposed dark blues, charcoal greys and pinstripe blacks onto the city's naturally colourful soul. It was as if the more sombre the tone of your dress, the more money you would make.

Yet for a thousand reasons, it was still the same old Hyderabad to him. Even here, several shops were still emblazoned with words like 'Shirtings' in antique, ornate fonts, instead of the slick 'G2000' logos you would see in clothing stores in Singapore. Cappuccino might be available in the five-star hotels downtown, but in his favourite canteen- which he had visited for breakfast-tea was still served warm and deep brownish pink, in tumblers instead of cups, with three spoonfuls of sugar already stirred in. And all items of traffic gaily announced their honking presence as they pa.s.sed, giving the streets the air of a parade, compared to the low, discreet rumbles and roars of traffic in his present haunts of Singapore and Hong Kong.

Wong must be enjoying the architectural mix in the capital of Andhra Pradesh, Sinha mused. There were many reminders of the period of the British Raj, with stately colonial buildings at many major junctions. Certain corners reminded him of quarters of colonial Singapore. Yet the eye was regularly caught by other structures, equally grand, but with Islamic and Hindu backgrounds. As the taxi moved along the road leading out of the city, Sinha saw Saracenic, Mughal and mediaeval Indian themes along the houses spanning the wide boulevard.

On this visit, Sinha had spotted one thing he hadn't seen before. Signs on the walls offered NO DEMOLITION VAASTU. In other words, pract.i.tioners of the Indian equivalent of feng shui feng shui would come and examine your premises with a cast-iron guarantee that the spirits would not decree that your house needed to be pulled down and a new one built in its place. would come and examine your premises with a cast-iron guarantee that the spirits would not decree that your house needed to be pulled down and a new one built in its place. Feng shui Feng shui with an opt-out clause designed to keep costs low. Even Mr Wong hadn't thought of that one. with an opt-out clause designed to keep costs low. Even Mr Wong hadn't thought of that one.

Never mind the technological revolution: India remained India.

The room was black. It was so uniformly stained that it was difficult to believe that it had ever been any other colour. Only the presence of thin stripes of yellow wallpaper visible behind burned cabinets revealed that it had once been more brightly coloured.

'Waah,' Wong said.

'Phew,' Joyce agreed.

Sinha merely nodded in response. 'The bomb itself was quite small. But the conflagration it started, as you can see, was sizeable. It caused the complete destruction of almost everything in the room. It turned this s.p.a.ce into an instant furnace.'

'Yuk,' said the young woman, her face a mask of horror as she stepped gingerly onto a soft, mushy floor. Underfoot, a layer of moist ash was speckled with indistinguishable chunks of charred material. Eeee. Was any of it human remains? 'And were there many . . . like people people in here at the time?' in here at the time?'

Sinha shook his head. 'Fortunately not. From what I've heard, just the sole victim, Jacob. And he would have been killed more or less instantly. In that sense he was a lucky man. There's a fact worth remembering: if you are going to die from being blown up, make sure you are as close as possible to the bomb. Better a quick end than being maimed and dying in slow agony. As the countdown on your nearest timebomb heads for zero, run, don't walk, directly in the direction of the bomb itself. Then you can be cleanly vaporised.'

Joyce crinkled up her nose. 'Thank you for that pleasant thought.'

She remained a single step in front of the doorway, but the feng shui feng shui master walked boldly past her into the middle of the room, raising clouds of ash as he walked. He pulled out his master walked boldly past her into the middle of the room, raising clouds of ash as he walked. He pulled out his lo pan lo pan and scanned the room from its centre, taking careful mental note of the positions of the windows and doors. and scanned the room from its centre, taking careful mental note of the positions of the windows and doors.

A pot-bellied man in a green uniform slipped in behind Joyce and walked with careful high-toed steps to stand nervously beside Wong. 'What are you thinking, Mr Wong? Can you find it? Is the ghost here?'

The newcomer's name was Inspector Muktul Gupta, although he was called Mukta-Gupta by his friends. He was in charge of the police investigation. He carried a black stick and there was a large, walrus moustache underneath his pockmarked, bulbous nose. His bottom jutted out backwards almost as much as his stomach protruded forwards, giving him the look of a badly a.s.sembled mannequin.

The feng shui feng shui master shook his head. 'Need to do some work first. Tell you later.' His small, dark eyes continued to crawl across the remaining surfaces. There was a burnt-out desk, a blackened cupboard and the remnants of the chair that Jacob had been sitting on when the bomb went off. master shook his head. 'Need to do some work first. Tell you later.' His small, dark eyes continued to crawl across the remaining surfaces. There was a burnt-out desk, a blackened cupboard and the remnants of the chair that Jacob had been sitting on when the bomb went off.

'It is is kinda spooky,' admitted Joyce. kinda spooky,' admitted Joyce.

The police officer nodded. 'Especially when we are taking into consideration the alleged presence of the alleged ghost and all that.'

Suddenly, Wong's eyes widened. 'Oh,' he said, his body straightening, as he stared into the middle distance, towards the remains of a filing cabinet.

'What is it?' Joyce asked.

'Must leave. Excuse me.' There was real fear in his voice. The geomancer's face had acquired an expression of intense alarm. His eyes were glazed and staring. His spine had stiffened and he seemed about to spring.

'Must go,' he added in a low voice, and raced out of the room.

Joyce moved out of his way as he hurtled past. His clattering footsteps could be heard racing down the stairs.

Wong's retreat had seriously alarmed the police officer. 'I am thinking I'd better see how my men are doing,' Gupta said. His hands clasped behind his large behind, he strode swiftly out of the room, not looking back. Seconds later, the echoing stairwell reverberated to a fat man galloping as fast as he could on his hind legs.

Sinha remained in the blackened office. 'How very curious,' he said. 'I wonder what Wong noticed that I can't see?'

He stepped over to stand in the precise spot where the feng shui feng shui master had stood-it was easy enough, since Wong's small footprints were easily visible in the carpet of ash. 'Is there a ghost here? I am usually quite sensitive to that sort of thing.' He closed his eyes and tried to feel a presence. master had stood-it was easy enough, since Wong's small footprints were easily visible in the carpet of ash. 'Is there a ghost here? I am usually quite sensitive to that sort of thing.' He closed his eyes and tried to feel a presence.

Then he opened them again. The tall Indian astrologer scanned the scene carefully from Wong's point of view. 'Can't get anything. No vibes at all,' he said. He turned to Joyce, whom he noticed was smiling. 'So what do you think upset your master so badly?'

'Nothing,' she said, with an embarra.s.sed giggle. 'Except what affects a lot of people who travel. He's been to the toilet three times already today. I think he's got the trots.'

An hour later, they regrouped at a snack bar called X=Coffee. It was oddly dark for a daytime eatery and was playing Indian pop music at an unsociably loud volume (candy-sweet female voices warbling up and down minor keys with thundering disco-sitar backing). But Inspector Gupta had selected the venue, so the others deferred to their host. Sinha managed to persuade the manager to lower the sound level slightly, as they sat to discuss the case at a stained formica table over strong, sweet, pink tea.

The officer put on his best 'official police statement' voice for the purpose of recapping the story.

'On the morning of November 9 at 11:15 am, an emergency call was received informing the constabulary concerning the desirability of them attending an explosion and accompanying conflagration at the Bodwali Building on the third floor of a small office building here in the town of Pallakiri, Hyderabad West District,' he said in a single breath. 'Since we had officers patrolling that side of Ranga Reddi, it did not take them long. They arrived to find it burning most merrily. But fortunately, the fire had not spread to neighbouring houses but was contained in unit C only.'

'How come?' Wong asked. 'If it was like such a big fire?'