Lights Out by W.J. Stopforth Read Free Book Online Page A

Ghost Face lit up a cigarette. The air around
him felt humid and sticky. He was distracted. He didn’t like it when things
didn’t go to plan and he found working with Lillian insufferable.
    He put his hand into his inside pocket and pulled out the new white
mobile phone.
    He punched in a number and waited.
    “Yes” a male voice replied.
    “We need to talk”
    “OK, tomorrow morning at ten, the usual place.”
    Without responding Ghost Face tapped
the off button on the screen and slipped it back into his pocket.
     

Chapter
8
    Ryan sat in the restaurant waiting for Lily to arrive. She was late,
more than fashionably late. He pushed back the cuff of his shirt and checked
his watch again.
    He had opted to sit facing the entrance so that he would be aware
when Lily arrived, as well as offering him a good view of the other diners.
    He shifted in his chair to try to get more comfortable.
    To Ryan’s immediate right sat two women in their mid-thirties, very
well dressed and clearly close friends. They were leaning towards each other
across the small round table in deep conversation, broken only by the
occasional raucous laughter and a pause to take a sip from their wine glasses,
oblivious to anyone else around them.
    Ryan passed his gaze across the rest of the large room. She’d chosen
well. The restaurant was a well-known hot spot in Hong Kong popular among
Thirty- Somethings . A combination of rich dark wooden
floors and off white walls with high ceilings gave it an air of sophistication
without being too formal. The seating and couches dotted around the restaurant
were filled with squashy velvet cushions making it a comfortable and relaxed
setting. Black and white framed photographs of old Hong Kong filled the walls
with hardly space to spare in between each one, which gave Ryan something to
look at whilst he waited. Individual candles on each table glowed softly. In the background a
mixture of jazz and lounge music played. He approved, it was all very well
chosen.
    The waiters all wore the same black Mandarin collar shirts with large
black wrap around aprons with the restaurant name embroidered in white into the
corner. All were local Chinese with the exception of one convivial red haired
woman, who appeared to be keeping ‘front of house’ and greeting everyone upon
their arrival with air kisses, hand shakes, and lots of ‘good to see you again”
as people entered. Ryan wondered fleetingly if she was the owner.
    Just past the entrance, Ryan could see out onto the busy road and
into the restaurants on the opposite side of the street. People were walking
past quickly and determined, heads down, unaware to the social world
surrounding them. Perhaps they were heading home after a long day in the office,
or maybe just starting their work. Clusters of people were standing outside on
the pavement holding their drinks and smoking. Post-work drinks, he thought. If
he looked hard enough he’d probably recognize some people from the bank.
    Ryan returned his observations back to the inside of the restaurant.
He noticed two men on his left having dinner. The man closest to Ryan was
western, with thick blond hair and wore a well-cut suit; he was fixated on what
the man sitting opposite him was saying. The man that he was listening to
looked Indian. Ryan thought. His complexion was a rich dark olive, his hair
thick and black. He was leaning back casually in his chair with one leg crossed
over the other at the ankles. He was wearing a black full-length wool coat over
a pinstripe suit, which Ryan supposed was more for a look that he must have
been trying to achieve rather than for the current temperature. Unable to hear
their conversation, Ryan quickly lost interest and looked around again. Other
tables held larger groups of friends and colleagues, people were laughing,
talking over one another and having a great time.
    One table caught Ryan’s attention. Situated close to the entrance was
a table with just one occupant. Ryan