Necropolis

himself being woken by something. It was the boat's engine, which had changed tempo, slowing down. He opened his eyes. It was still dark, still raining. But there were lights ahead.
    "You can wake up your friends," Captain Machado said. "We're here."
    Matt stood up and went over to the window.
    And there it was. It was two o'clock in the morning, but a city like Hong Kong never really slept. Matt could make out the skyscrapers by the lights that burned all around them, picking out their shapes in brilliant green, blue, and pink neon. It was as if someone had drawn the city onto the darkness with a vast, fluorescent crayon. There were advertisements — philips, Samsung, hitachi
    — burning themselves onto the night sky, the colors breaking up in the water, being thrown around by the choppy waves. There were signs in Chinese too, and they reminded him how very different this city would be from London or Miami. This was another world.
    It was very misty. Maybe it was an illusion caused by all the neon, but the mist was a strange color, an ugly, poisonous yellow. It was rolling across the harbor toward them, reaching out to surround them as if it were a living thing and knew who they were. As they continued forward, it pressed itself against the glass of the cabin, and the sound of the engines became even more distant.

    Richard had joined the captain at the steering wheel. "Why are we going so slowly?" he asked. It was a good question. They were barely moving at all.
    "We don't want to draw attention to ourselves," Machado replied.
    "I thought you said nobody cared about you anyway."
    "There's still no reason to make too much noise." Another minute passed.
    "I thought we were going to Kowloon," Richard said.
    "We are."
    "But isn't Kowloon on the other side?"
    Machado grinned in the half-light. He had put the pipe away. "The current will carry us over," he said, and at that moment Matt knew that he wasn't telling the truth and felt the familiar tingle of imminent danger. For what seemed like an age, nothing happened. They weren't moving. Machado was standing there, almost daring them to challenge him — to do anything. But there was nothing they could do. They were trapped on board his boat, completely in his power.
    And then a searchlight cut through the darkness, pinning
    Moon Moth in its glare. The entire cabin seemed to explode with dazzling light. A second beam swung across. Two boats. They were still some distance away, but they were rapidly closing in. They must have been waiting there all the time.
    At the same moment, Machado swung his hand, crashing it into the side of Richard's head and then bringing it around on Matt. He was holding a gun. Richard fell. Machado's lips curled in an unpleasant smile. "If you move, I will kill you," he said.
    He had betrayed them. He had known the boats were coming. He had led them straight to them.
    "The Triads will kill you for this," Richard muttered. He had pulled himself onto one knee and was cradling his head in his hand. Blood was trickling from a wound just above his eye.
    "The Triads are finished," Machado replied. "They're nothing anymore."
    "So who's paying you?" Matt asked.
    "There's a big reward out for you, boy. Two million Hong Kong dollars. More than I've earned with Shan-tung and his friends in ten years. They want you very badly. And they warned me about you. If you even blink, I'll shoot you."
    Matt looked out of the window. The boats were getting closer, and they had been joined by three more, making five in all, moving in from every side. They were police launches — gray, solid steel with identifying numbers printed on the side. They were coming out of the night like miniature battleships, with bulletproof windows and bows shaped like knives.
    Richard pulled himself to his feet. Machado aimed the gun at him. "Nightrise doesn't want you," he said.
    "So I hope you don't mind a burial at sea." He was about to fire at point-blank range. He licked his lips, enjoying himself. Richard stared at him helplessly.
    "Put the gun down," Jamie said.
    Machado didn't hesitate. He laid the gun on the floor, although his face was filled with puzzlement. He had no idea why he'd done it. But Matt did. In his moment of triumph, the captain had forgotten Jamie.
    He'd thought he was still asleep…but he'd been wrong. Jamie had seen what was happening and had used his power. If he'd told Machado to stop breathing, the man would have stood there until he died.
    And, Matt