Blue Lantern by Gil Hogg

tie and helped with his other buttons, with the dexterity of a doctor handling a patient. All this was to Brodie’s surprise.
    Even as Brodie and Helen prepared to embrace, it began to dawn upon both that the restrictions of the car almost forbade it. The steering wheel was close to Brodie’s chest; between the seats, the gear and driveshaft housing occupied the space. The rear seat was designed for luggage rather than people. Faced with an anatomical impossibility, they both giggled as they wriggled for position.
    Helen said lightly, “You chose the car.”
    Brodie hadn’t thought about the car because he hadn’t expected this. Somehow, despite the verbal sparring on the drive, it had suddenly become surprisingly easy to feel close, and the long verbal overture which he had expected wasn’t necessary. Helen had moved from caution to sensual hunger; but the most Brodie could do was lean over the transmission housing and press his bare chest against her; their fondling was haunting and sure.
    They talked a little afterwards, while they tidied their clothes and dressed; and Helen produced a packet of mints which they chewed. They drove back to the Star Ferry in a euphoric silence, slowly on the hill this time, the engine whining in third. Helen wanted to return on the ferry alone, rather than cross with him on the car ferry. When he let her out, he said, “You surprised me, you really did.”
    She looked drained, her voice soft to the point of being inaudible. “You shouldn’t be surprised that I showed love for your body. You’re beautiful.”
    Making sure not to encourage him to kiss her again, she got out of the car quickly, and before she shut the door, she bent down below the hood, and said in a more remote voice, “Whether I can feel the same about your heart, we have to find out.”
    She closed the door, and he saw her take one or two quick steps with her slender ankles, an elegant young Chinese girl in the throng. Brodie sat still for a few moments in the car, moved, trying to gather feelings together which were escaping him. He was heedless of the traffic churning around him, honking and revving and flashing headlights.

7
    A frowning Brodie sat on the bare bed-frame in one of the apartments at the Mongkok station; beside him, a stack of folded sheets and blankets drawn from the station store. A new mattress in a plastic wrapper leaned against the wall. Paul Sherwin, his suitcases open in the middle of the floor, was hanging clothes in the wardrobe. Sherwin had his back to Brodie, and could not see his expression.
    â€œNice comfortable little places, these,” he said cheerfully. “You should have seen the barn I had to sleep in on Lantau; so big you couldn’t cool it with an air-conditioner.”
    This room was the same as Brodie’s, but on a lower floor; clean, convenient and characterless.
    â€œPaul, have you been told what your new duties are?”
    â€œNothing yet, while the case goes on. Flinn hinted I’d be on much the same duties as you after the trial. I expected to be moved. They suspended the other two, the culprits. There’s a new team on the island now.”
    â€œAre the brothels and games still there?”
    â€œI reckon so. They’ve moved a few blocks, but they’re still there,” Sherwin said, looking to see how Brodie would take this.
    â€œLike Andy said.”
    â€œIt doesn’t make any difference to how I feel about what I did.”
    A root of cynicism had already germinated in Brodie, despite his inexperience, which told him his friend’s gesture was useless. “How’s the case going? I’ve seen a couple of reports in the papers, but you can’t tell much. The reporters always twist it.”
    But allowing for distortion in the reports, Brodie had concluded that the trial was going badly. The judicial process seemed to him to chafe and scuff along slowly, an old tumbril