It was a humid night in Hong Kong. The kind that made the neon signs drip with color and the alleyways sweat secrets. Wei Shen stood on the rooftop of a Mong Kok tenement, listening to the distant wail of a police siren—his siren, technically, though no one here knew that.
Wei slammed the brakes. Dogeyes lurched forward. Wei grabbed his collar. "Your grandmother's dead. Want to join her?" sleeping dogs gog
"Depends who's asking."
"Faster, Wei. You drive like my grandmother." It was a humid night in Hong Kong
The glass in his hand cracked.
Later, alone in a karaoke booth, Wei's phone buzzed. A text from Pendrew, his handler: Report. Or are you sleeping with the dogs? alone in a karaoke booth