At 12:30 the men took the lift to the twenty-fifth floor and entered the Man Wah Restaurant, one of the finest in the colony. A lovely Chinese woman wearing a slinky cheongsam, a traditional tight-fitting dress with a seductive slit revealing a bit of leg, led them to a table. Unlike most restaurants in Hong Kong, which were usually noisy and full of cheerful clamour, this one was an intimate, quiet place. The blue carpet, wood-framed maroon panelling, and oriental paintings all contributed to a luxurious ambience. A bonsai tree covered with tiny white blooms sat on their table, which was next to a large picture window overlooking the harbour.
The menu specialized in Cantonese-style cooking, the distinctive cuisine of Guangdong Province. It was considered the most varied and interesting in all China. This was due partly to south China’s subtropical climate, which produced a huge range of fruits and vegetables and all kinds of seafood. The style of cooking used steaming and quick stir-frying to enhance the qualities of food. An experienced cook knew when a dish was done by the sizzling sound that emanated from the wok. It was the lightest and least oily of all the regional cooking styles, seasoned by a wide variety of sauces rather than spices. Vegetables, seafood, pork, and chicken were the main ingredients.
“Mr. Bond! Welcome to Hong Kong!”
He knew the voice at once. It belonged to Henry Ho, General Manager of the Man Wah, whom Bond had known for years. Ho was a most pleasant gentleman, and an expert in the culinary delights. The soft-spoken man had dark hair and smiling eyes. Never hesitating to join a party at their table, Ho always had a story to tell about the food he served. Today was no exception.
“Hello, Henry,” Bond said, shaking his hand. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Yes, yes, it is very good to see you, too,” Ho said. “Mr. Woo called yesterday to say an important guest was coming. He didn’t say it was you! I have prepared some special dishes!”
The meal began with an appetizer of cucumber and what Ho called “black fungus”—ginger covered in a dark red crust. The first course was Chili Prawns, a Szechuan-style dish. Bond liked Szechuan cuisine, which was infinitely spicier than Cantonese. It was said that China’s leader, Deng Xiaopeng, preferred Szechuan food. Ho explained that the food from Szechuan Province was hotter because of the humid climate—the people ate spicy food to help release moisture from their bodies. The large prawns were cooked in garlic, chili, and sesame oil, and were simply delicious.
A rich plum wine called “yellow wine,” served warm, was brought to the table between courses. Bond thought it tasted like sake.
A second course was an elaborate serving of sauteed filet of sole with green vegetables in a black bean sauce. The presentation was spectacular—several large carrots had been carved to resemble a dragon boat, the kind used in the famous Dragon Boat Festival that occurs every summer, and the food was placed inside the boat. The sole was quite tender and flavourful because in Hong Kong the sole can swim in both fresh and salt water.
The main course was called Beggar’s Chicken, which was Chef Lao’s creation of chicken baked in clay with black mushrooms, barbecued pork, ginger, and Chinese spices. This dish had to be ordered at least a day in advance, as it was cooked many hours before serving. The chicken was cleaned and stuffed with the various ingredients, then wrapped in lotus leaves. Then the package is packed in clay and baked until the clay was hard.
When the dish was brought to Bond and Woo, all the waiters and staff stood around and applauded as the diners took turns whacking and breaking the clay with a mallet. A waiter then picked out the large bones from the extremely tender chicken, mixed in a special sauce, and served it in shreds on small plates. Bond thought it was one of the tastiest meals he had ever had in his life.
Ho brought them tea after Bond and Woo had stuffed themselves and, joining them at the table, said, “There is a region in southeast China called Fook Tien Province, and there the largest variety of tea is produced. There is one leaf that is very intriguing. Its name is Monkey-Pick-Tea.
“According to legend,” Ho continued, “the tea leaves were collected by monkeys because they were positioned on high cliff-tops. But the monkeys were not very obedient, and needed to be disciplined. Whenever a monkey disobeyed, a part of his tail was cut off—a half-inch or so! This would continue until the monkey learned to do as he was instructed. Monkey-Pick-Tea is very highly regarded because it is difficult to come by, and also because it is rich in both aroma and taste. Therefore its qualities are compared to those of a fine wine. We drink it after a meal, not only because it is enjoyable, but because it also helps one to digest.”
After the meal, Bond and Woo were left alone to discuss business.
“So, T.Y., what’s going on? What do you know?” Bond asked.
“The solicitor who was killed—that bomb was not act of China, uh huh?” Woo said.
“That’s what M thinks, too,” Bond replied. “Who do you think is behind it?”
“There is a general in Guangzhou. His name is Wong. Very militant. He is violently opposed to any kind of democratic rule in Hong Kong after takeover. He has been in favour of taking over colony by force for years. He is biting his nails on other side of border, just waiting for chance to move in his troops and take control. Beijing keeps him on short leash. Someone trying to put blame on him. Not sure he is responsible.”
“Why do you say that?” Bond asked.
“It is stupid! Why would he do such a thing weeks before Hong Kong goes back to China? What would he gain by starting war between China and Britain? On second thought, he just might be that stupid. Not a rational man, uh huh?”
“Those are his troops lining the border?”
“Yes. Mostly his. He would march into New Territories tomorrow if Beijing gave him okay.” Woo shrugged. “It is possible that he is trying to provoke confrontation between Britain and China. He wants excuse to move in. And from looks of things, he is succeeding.”
“But surely he wouldn’t dare bring his troops across the border before the first of July. The whole world is watching.”
“General Wong does not care. He is madman. He considers himself national hero in China. He is hard, cruel man. I tell you something else about him. Wong spent most of 1980s in Beijing. He was one of high commanders responsible for Tienanmen Square tragedy. He enjoyed giving orders to shoot those people. After that, he was promoted and moved back to Guangzhou, where he was from.”
“All right, he’s a suspect. Who else is on your short list?”
“My personal opinion? I think it is someone local. Could be Triad. On other hand, it is not their method. Not many criminals have guns or bombs in Hong Kong. You would be surprised—Hong Kong is quite gun-free.”
“What about the two Chinese officials who were killed by a British officer?”
“That is big mystery,” Woo said. “Again, I do not think it was real British officer. Whole thing was staged. He was imposter.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Again—why would this officer want to cause trouble? Unless he has a personal grudge. And who is he to take on the government of China?”
“And the floating restaurant bomb?” Bond asked.
“Same thing. It was not China. It was not General Wong in Guangzhou, although that is rumour.”
“What do you know about EurAsia Enterprises?”
“Big company. Very respectable. The taipan, he is well-liked but very private man, uh huh?”
“Thackeray.”
“Yes. I have met him. I see him sometimes at casino in Macau. One of my few vices, I admit. I have played mahjong with him once or twice. Always lost a lot of money to him. EurAsia not as big as other major companies, like Jardine Matheson. But it does okay. Involved in shipping and trading. Their docks are at Kwai Chung.”
“Do you know what happened in England a few nights ago?”
“Yes, I got briefing. Heroin. That surprised me. I have no records that EurAsia is involved in anything illegal. My contacts with
police have assured me that nothing out of ordinary is on record.”
“Yet that heroin came from one of their ships.”
“I think Triad is involved. They have their fingers in everything. It is quite possible that someone in EurAsia is being squeezed by Triad and Thackeray does not know anything about it.”
Bond ordered a brandy. “Are you familiar with the Dragon Wing Society?”
“Yes, I am. They are splinter group of San Yee On. Very powerful. Dragon Wing Society has interests in many nightclubs in Hong Kong. Most of their known activities involve prostitution and gambling. The police believe they are involved in heroin trade but have not acquired evidence. They put squeeze on entertainment industry, too. Movie sets are prime targets, uh huh?”
“Do you know anyone in the Triad?”
“A Triad leader is called the Cho Kun, or Dragon Head. Cho Kun of Dragon Wing is Li Xu Nan. Very powerful businessman. Owns several nightclubs and girlie bars. The identity of Cho Kun is supposed to be secret—no one outside of Triad knows.” Woo grinned. “But I know.”
“All Triads work that way?”
“Usually, yes. Only top men in Triad know. Their lodge is secret, too.”
“Lodge?”
“That is Triad’s headquarters, where they hold meetings.”
“Do you know where their Lodge is?”
Woo shook his head. “No, that is secret. I am working on it. They change locations often, so it is difficult.”
“How can I find this Li Xu Nan?”
“Hard to say.” Woo said. “He frequents a couple of his nightclubs. We maybe try later tonight or tomorrow.”
“Okay, tell me more about Thackeray?”
“He is in late-forties. Bachelor. Does not go out in public much. Lives on the Peak with all the rich gweilo.” Gweilo—a term meaning “ghost people”—was often used by ethnic Chinese with reference to westerners.
“Has there been any investigation since the drug bust in England?”
“Yes. My contact in police said they searched EurAsia’s warehouse at Kwai Chung. They found nothing. Official company line is that they are shocked and dismayed that something like that could have happened on one of their ships. EurAsia spokesman denied all responsibility and blamed act on criminal enterprise.”
“I’m going to want to take a look at that warehouse myself.”
“We can do that.”
“And I want to meet Guy Thackeray. Can you arrange it?”
“How’s your game of mahjong?”
Bond had little experience with the game that was so popular in Hong Kong. “Not very good, I’m afraid. I’ve played one of the western versions a bit.” The game’s rules and play varied from country to country.
“No problem. I give you quick lessons. Hong Kong version easier than western version or Japanese version, uh huh?”
“When does he play?” Bond asked.
“He plays tonight! You have money? Big stakes. Thackeray is big winner. I do not know how he does it. Always wins. If we get there before he does, we have better chance at getting in game with him. Let us go, okay?”
“Sure. Just how much capital will I stand to lose?”
“Thackeray plays 100 Hong Kong dollars per point,” Woo said with eyes wide. “With a two-point minumum, ten-point maximum! Maximum Hand is worth 38,400 Hong Kong dollars!”
Bond frowned. That meant that Thackeray played a very challenging and risky game. A winning hand must be worth at least two points or a stiff monetary penalty would be imposed. SIS might lose thousands of pounds. Nevertheless, closely observing Thackeray for a couple of hours over an intense game of chance just might be the best way for Bond to evaluate him. He believed that a man revealed every side of his personality during the course of any gaming contest in which a great deal of money was at stake.
“Fine,” said Bond. “Let’s do it.”
Woo caught the waiter’s attention and said, “Mai dan,” miming the international scribble gesture. “I get this, James. You are now indoctrinated into our concept of maijiang. ”
Bond said, “I know all about maijiang. Face. Reciprocity. In other words, I’ll get the next one. Sikdjo. ”
Woo grinned. “Ah, you been to Hong Kong before?”
“Yes, a few times. Japan, too.”
Bond knew the Eastern philosophy of maijiang was very important to Asian people. It meant, quite literally, the selling of credit. Maijiang was used when a person gave or was given face and when reciprocity was implicitly understood and expected. If a person did a favour for a man, then he was expected to do something in return. Saying sikdjo meant Bond agreed.
Woo paid the bill and the two men left the relatively tranquil ambience of the restaurant. They did not notice the strange albino Chinese man who sat reading a newspaper at the Harlequin Bar, just outside the entrance to the Man Wah. As soon as they left, he went to make a phone call.
SIX
THE PREVAILING WIND
4:00 P.M.
The Viking 66 Sports Cruiser skipped along the water away from the Causeway Bay docks and into Victoria Harbour. T.Y. Woo introduced the captain as his elder brother, J.J. The elder Woo, when not assisting at the antiques store on Cat Street, was a yachting enthusiast. T.Y. often used his brother’s boat for official Secret Service business. Like T.Y., J.J. was very agreeable. He said little; when Bond addressed him, J.J. would just nod his head and smile. Bond assumed the man’s English wasn’t as good as his brother’s.
The boat was built in the UK primarily for the American market with US components, but J.J. managed to have a model shipped over to Hong Kong. Apparently the Woo family had been very wealthy, and J.J. and T.Y. had each inherited a private fortune. The 66 had a solid glass hull, twin 820-hp MANs, and the capability of topping out at 30 knots. The deep-V design gave the boat true offshore capabilities—and a smooth ride. T.Y. proudly told Bond that J.J. had bought the boat for a song—only 1.5 million Hong Kong dollars.
It was still broad daylight. The harbour was extremely busy and full of all types of vessels. T.Y. told Bond that they had nothing to fear from the Marine Police—his boat was registered with them and would not be stopped. Even so, it was apparently not at all difficult to slip away from Hong Kong and over to Macau without Immigration finding out. The only trick was finding a discreet place to dock in Macau.
After twenty minutes, the boat was speeding through the strait north of Lantau Island and below the New Territories. Soon, they were out in the open South China Sea. J.J. opened up the MANs, and the Viking reached maximum speed.
“We will be in Macau in another three-quarters hour, uh huh?” T.Y. said, grinning. The wind was blowing through his short dark hair, and Woo seemed to take great pleasure in the sensation. Bond was feeling the effects of jet lag. He hoped some strong coffee would sharpen his wits enough for him to play a fast-paced game of mahjong, especially since he was not very familiar with it.
“Where are we going exactly?” Bond asked.
“Lisboa Hotel and Casino,” Woo said. “Not one of my favourite establishments.”
Bond knew the Lisboa. It was a prime tourist attraction in the legendary territory. Macau’s history was almost as colourful as Hong Kong’s. It predated the British colony by several centuries, its story part of the seaborne Age of Exploration that brought fifteenth century Portugal to prominence. Trade was the underlying catalyst for its development, specifically the immense wealth to be gained from the spices and silks of the Orient. The port of Macau was set up by the mid-1500s as a stop between Malacca and Japan. The territory flourished, especially during the early seventeenth century. By the twentieth, however, it had declined and had developed a reputation as a hotbed of spies, vice, and intrigue. In 1987, the anti-colonial Portuguese government signed an official agreement with China to hand over Macau on 20 December 1999. Unlike Hong Kong, Macau residents who gave up residency had the right to live in any EC country, including, ironically, Great Britain.
“You need quick
mahjong reminder?” Woo asked Bond.
“That would be most helpful.”
Woo gestured that they should get out of the wind and into the boat’s cabin. They left the teak-covered deck, went below, and sat at a small table. Woo made some strong coffee and said, “Okay, tell me what you know.”
“The game is a mixture of gin rummy, dominoes, and poker, you might say. There are four players who play against each other. There isn’t much skill involved, mostly luck, and the trick is to play defensively and try to out-guess what your opponents need. There are three suits—Bamboo Sticks, Circles, and Characters. There are four sets of tiles numbered one to nine in each of the three suits. There are also four Red Dragon tiles, four Green Dragon, four White Dragon, and four tiles of each “wind”—the East Wind, West Wind, and so on.”
“Yes, that is all true,” Woo said. “There is skill, James. You must play fast and be creative in building your hand for most possible points. Every point worth a lot of money, uh huh?” Woo grinned. “We brought 80,000 Hong Kong dollars of company’s cash to lose. I already cleared it with M. She just said we better not lose it!” Woo laughed at that. “If Thackeray on a roll like he always is, M is in for big surprise!”
“Why is he so good?” Bond asked. “The game really does depend on the luck of the draw, doesn’t it?”
Woo shrugged. “I do not know. If he cheats, I do not know how he does it. It is very hard to cheat at mahjong, uh huh? He wins thousands of dollars a night playing.”
The Viking sailed around the southern tip of Macau and made its way up the western side of the peninsula. Woo explained that it was easier to dock unseen over there, and they could take a taxi to the casino. They found a decrepit wooden dock hidden in some overgrowth.
“We use this dock before,” Woo said. “Be careful when you step on it. It not very safe. Oh, I almost forget. We cannot take guns in casino. They have high security. Metal detectors. We must leave them here.”
Zero Minus Ten Page 6