“Get out of here! Don’t you demons do enough damage in the daytime?”

Courchene looked me in the eye. “Here goes.” He fired into the lock, and the door swung open.

Tak-Wing had a gun on him, but Courchene didn’t bat an eyelash. He fired before Tak-Wing even knew his intentions. The bullet grazed Tak-Wing’s shoulder.

“Missed me, big man,” said Tak-Wing in Cantonese. He reeked so badly of liquor I could smell him from my position outside the window. Greasy, overgrown hair stuck out from his head in so many dishevelled directions.

“On purpose, fool. Drop the gun.” Courchene had picked up a bit of the local tongue.

Beside him, Tanaka trained his pistol on Tak-Wing’s heart. He couldn’t have shot him if his life depended on it, but Tak-Wing didn’t know that. In Japanese Tanaka said, “Drop it. Now.”

Hatred blazed from Tak-Wing’s eyes and a bullet blazed from his pistol. Blood gushed from Tanaka’s neck. Courchene fired at Tak-Wing, but missed. I stepped in behind him, aimed, and shot his hand.

Tak-Wing dropped the gun.

Courchene rushed him and kicked it out of the way.

As they scuffled, Horace and I ran to the back. I smashed the flimsy lock with the butt of my pistol. Emily trembled behind the door, her hand over Raymond’s howling mouth.

“Em, it’s me,” I whispered. “Come on. We’re busting you out.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise. She noticed my moustache, and began to laugh.

“Shh!” I said. “Don’t. It’s not safe. Come on.”

In the main room, Tanaka lay slumped on the floor. Tak-Wing’s bullet had hit a vein. I examined him quickly. Though there was a lot of blood, the bullet had just grazed him. I tore off a piece of my shirt and tied it around his neck to staunch the bleeding.

All the while, Tak-Wing shouted at Courchene. “Are you going to kill me? If you’re going to kill me, just do it and get it over with.” He clearly recognized Courchene now, though it had completely ceased to matter. They scuffled and danced. Courchene shot again, this time at his foot.

“Death to your mother!” Tak-Wing howled.

Horace and I hustled Emily and Raymond out the gaping door. Courchene and Tanaka covered us. Once we were out, Courchene fired one last shot, nowhere fatal, I hoped. I heard Tak-Wing drop to the floor. He moaned and whimpered, still alive. Professor Duffy was right. This was cursed, awful business. We ran out into the night, not back to St Paul’s but down to the Causeway Bay Typhoon Shelter where Captain Lee, Professor Duffy, and Ting-Yan were waiting on the Oolong.