Chris Emmett - Hong Kong Police: Inside the Lines

Hong Kong Police: Inside The Lines

By Chris Emmett

ISBN-13: 978-988-8552-22-1

2018 Chris Emmett

HISTORY / Asia / China

EB112

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in material form, by any means, whether graphic, electronic, mechanical or other, including photocopying or information storage, in whole or in part. May not be used to prepare other publications without written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information contact info@earnshawbooks.com

Published by Earnshaw Books Ltd. (Hong Kong)

Acknowledgements

I wish to thank ex-colleagues from the Royal Hong Kong Police, and the post-colonial Hong Kong Police Force, who contributed their time and stories to this work. Without their help, this book would not have been possible.

Keith Braithwaite

Martin Cowley

Jim Elms

Fung Yiu-ming

Mike Howard

Gilberto Jorge

Andy Kennedy

Guy Shirra

Barry BJ Smith

John Turner

Ken Wellburn

Dick Williamson

Steve Wordsworth

Not forgetting those who have asked me to safeguard their privacy but whose contribution was equally important.

Preface

There is a book inside every policeman. Some tell of humor and comradeship, some are sad and tragic, others are about conflict and adventure. In truth, a police career has all this but sadly, many of these stories go untold. I wrote my first book, Hong Kong Policeman, shortly after I retired. When people ask why I wrote it, I tell them I did it by accident. It was meant to be an after dinner speech but after two days of listing all I wanted to say, the book just followed naturally.

In my first book, I wrote about the colorful and sometimes crazy things that happen to a young man who finds himself in an adventurers playpen like Hong Kong. In this latest volume, I wanted to show a more serious side of what it means to be a police officer in this amazing city. So, I asked several ex-colleagues to share some stories with me. What I received was a remarkable catalogue of events taken from Hong Kongs modern history. The Narcotics Bureau arrests the owner of Hong Kongs biggest newspaper for trafficking in twenty-nine tons of opium and heroin. Another ex-colleague tells of shady dealings by Americas federal narcotics agents. There are eye-witness accounts of the 1967, cross-border shooting that left five Hong Kong policemen dead. There is a confrontation between the Hong Kong Police and the Vietnamese army at Hanoi airport. A counter-terrorist officer tells of his battle with criminals armed with hand grenades and a Kalashnikov rifle. For the first time, officers involved in the Umbrella Revolution tell what it was like on the police side of the barricades.

These are stories of courage, determination and professionalism told by officers who were there. Most have let me use their real names; a few have asked that I preserve their privacy.

I hope that in these pages, I do them all justice.

Part 1

Narcotics Bureau

Chapter 1

The Brothers

Undercover drug buys. I hate them, I detest them. They always go wrong. But Im a detective inspector in the Royal Hong Kong Police Narcotics Bureau, and my drug buys are not allowed to go wrong. Back in my drug squad days, I didnt mind risking ten dollars to nail a street dealer. Now, the show money isnt ten dollars, its a briefcase full of crisp, five-hundred dollar bills. I have counted them. Twice. The briefcase contains more money than a detective inspector earns in a year. And whose signature is on the government treasurys receipt? Mine.

Im working with Sham Shui Po divisions drug squad. Their informant swears he can deliver two kilos of number four heroin. Number four looks like talcum powder and is up to ninety percent pure. And thats a problem. General Orders say only the Narcotics Bureau can handle a case this size, but Sham Shui Po wants to keep the case so we compromise. They can keep it, but only under Narcotics Bureau supervision.

So here I am, running a bloody drugs buy.

The sergeants name is Hon Tak. Hes a typical drug squad sergeant: sensible, competent, self-assured. We are in a two-roomed apartment in a rundown tenement off Yen Chow Street. The lights are dim. The air-conditioner doesnt work. I have been in this sweatbox of a bedroom for two hours. Sweat stings my eyes. My shirt is sodden. The informant sits in the corner, quiet and sullen. One piece of advice: never, ever trust a narcotics informant. I do not like narcotics informants and I particularly do not like this one. I do not know why I dont like him, I just dont.

I have planted two microphones in the living room; one wired to a cassette recorder in the bedroom, the other is a backup wireless transmitter. For the tenth time, I order Hon Tak into the living room to test the microphones. He rolls his eyes but steps through the door.

Hon Tak has cast a young constable called Bobby Jai Little Bobby as the buyer. Bobby Jai is living the role: bubble perm hairstyle, skin-tight shirt, gold chains, mirror sunglasses. There are five targets, all young and cocky. Bobby Jai brings one of them to the apartment. He wants to see the money. I stay in the bedroom while Bobby Jai comes into the bedroom and takes the briefcase. The target counts the money then hands over a small packet of white powder. Bobby Jai tells him he has a junkie in the bedroom who will test it. In the bedroom, I run the powder through the field test. Positive. Time to do the deal. The target leaves, saying he will bring the goods soon.

An hour passes. Nothing. We swelter in silence. The radio crackles. The observation post reports two targets have approached Bobby Jai.

Two? Do they have the stuff?I ask.

Hon Tak speaks into the microphone. OP, over.

Silence.

He checks the channel and volume control. OP, over.

Silence. He shakes his head.

Shit. Communications are down.

Then, This is OP, over.

I exhale. Comms are back.

Kui dei yau mo foh ah? Do they have the stuff?

The reply crackles back. M ching choh, Not sure .

Minutes later, the main door opens. Now there are two targets with Bobby Jai . There are raised voices. Hon Tak clamps on the earphones. A growl rises in his throat. Hei yau chi lei, Dammit, he says. They change the plan. Now he is whispering. They want to do the trade in a car. His lips are thin. They say, bring money downstairs. They want to drive to Sai Kung and hand over drugs there.

I pause. Is there a way round the change? No. It isnt safe. I make a chopping motion across my throat. Kill it, I say. Well arrest the two in the living room. The OP can take the others.

Hon Tak gawks at me. His voice is a hard whisper. Ah sir. Two kilos of number four. Two kilos! His eyes glitter. I have seen it before. First there is the adrenaline-filled hours when nothing happens. Then there is action. It grips you and then there is only the case. Nothing else matters. It is a madness and now I see it in Hon Tak. He wants the two kilos. He wants it with every strand of his being.

We follow them to Sai Kung, Hon Tak urges me. We follow them close. His words come fast and urgent. Bobby Jai is good man. All are good men. His eyes are pleading. Ah-Sir, trust me.

And I want to trust him. I want those two kilos. I want the targets. I want the case. My heart thuds. My breath rasps. Two kilos! There is silence. I pause. I suck in a breath. Then, Kill it, I say again. Make the arrests.