Freedom: Hong Kong #3 (PAPERBACK)

Pages: 512

Size: 5" x 8" (147mm x 243mm)

Format: Paperback

Series: Book 3, The Hong Kong Trilogy

Shipping times, after printing, are within 1-3 business days.

My books are printed on-demand by my printers located in the UK and the USA.

Once you place your order, my printers will get to work printing your book.

Each book is carefully printed, checked and shipped and delivered to your door 1-3 business days after printing (excluding bank holidays).

Read the Shipping Policy and Returns Policy.

Jacob Watson bent double in the dark alleyway, sucking in air. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his back, and the sharp, acidic taste of regurgitated Sichuan hotpot coated his tongue.

He rolled his tongue around, generating saliva, then spat on the ground and straightened up. His chest was still heaving, and his calves burned with lactic acid.

Shaking his head, he took another deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. He heard a shout in the street at the end of the alley and stepped deeper into the shadows. The distinctive silhouette of a Hong Kong police officer in full riot gear filled the entrance to the alley. Jacob held his breath and pressed himself back against the wall, slowly sliding down until the stinking plastic dumpster beside him hid him from sight. A flashlight flicked on, and the powerful beam flashed across the walls and the surface of the alley, sending a large rat and thousands of cockroaches scurrying for the darkness.

Jacob clenched his fists and tensed his legs, ready to spring into action, but after a moment, the flashlight flicked off. He waited another ten seconds, then peered around the dumpster. The entrance to the alley was empty.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed under his breath. Exhaling loudly, he pushed himself to his feet. Remaining in the deepest shadow, he closed his eyes and thought back over the events of the last five minutes—perhaps the longest five minutes of his life.

Sitting in the restaurant with the volunteer medics, he had been happy, relaxed, and a little thrilled to be sitting opposite Alice, engaging her in a proper conversation. Their paths had crossed frequently during recent protests, and there was definitely a connection. He felt it, and he was sure she did as well. The way her eyes lingered on his, the little smiles, even tonight, her hand on his arm as she emphasized a point she was making. There was a shared camaraderie, an attraction, which may never have materialized if they hadn’t been working toward a common cause. The evening had been going well... until the cops appeared in the restaurant window.

Jacob grimaced at the memory and opened his eyes. Thanks to whoever was up above, he had been facing the entrance. He could have stayed and bluffed his way through the inevitable questioning. Westerners usually got lighter treatment than his Hong Kong comrades on the frontline. However, the one cop without his mask on, the team leader, had stopped Jacob before, and Jacob wasn’t prepared to take his chances. He’d already used up one of his lives and didn’t want to sacrifice any of the remaining eight.

But the look on Alice’s face as he had pushed back his chair and bolted for the kitchen was etched into his brain. He’d have to explain and apologize to her later.

“Shit!” he cursed, louder this time. He had no way of contacting her. He hadn’t got around to asking for her number. “Damn it.” He’d have to wait until he saw her again at a protest.

Jacob glanced at the luminous dial of his G-Shock. Almost five minutes had passed since the riot cop had shone his light down the alley. Probably safe enough to move on. Jacob slipped his backpack off his shoulder and placed it at his feet. Pulling the black long-sleeved dry-fit shirt from his back, he balled it up and stuffed it into the overflowing dumpster. Removing a light blue polo shirt from the backpack, he pulled it on. He couldn’t do anything about his black pants and shoes, but the colored shirt should be enough. He thought for a moment about the other gear in his pack. He hated to get rid of it, but if he was stopped now, he would have a hard time explaining why he was carrying a respirator, helmet, and gloves. Just possession of those items was enough for him to be arrested, and the way the police were behaving, would probably earn him a beating in the cells for good measure. Sighing, he pulled them out, lifted the lid of the dumpster, and stuffed them down amongst the garbage.

He zipped up the backpack, slung it over one shoulder, took a deep breath, and walked toward the street.