Chasing the Dragon: a story of love, redemption and the Chinese triads (Opium Book 2)

by Colin Falconer

  Louis Huu leaned towards her. “Hoping while I am in Hong Kong that I will see your boss,” he said.

  “Sure, Eddie will be very happy to see an old friend,” she said.

  “But, you know, is very strange. Have been in Hong Kong three days and I leave message for him everywhere, and still he does not call me. Thought perhaps you will know how to reach him, Ruby-ah.”

  “What you want me to tell him?”

  Louis Huu lowered his voice. “Tell him that the earth is soft and damp, and the worms are hungry.” He stopped smiling. Then he turned around and pointed cheerfully at the television. “Look, runners are on the track.”

  Lucky Gem was led to his stall. He was a roan gelding, and his jockey was wearing lucky crimson and gold. He was second on the card; two was also her lucky number, and a ruby was a gem. She felt the sweet aniseed of fortune on her neck. One hundred thousand at six to one. Enough to pay back her debt to Peter Man, at least.

  Number seven ran onto the track, a big bay stallion.

  “You have a lucky way?” Louis asked her.

  “Go to temple morning of the race, give money offering and light incense to Kuan Yin. Then I shake the chim, the first number is the race, the second number the horse.”

  “That is a good way,” Louis agreed. “For myself, I consult a feng shui man, he is one hundred per cent reliable. Give me my lucky numbers. Never lose, never.” He gently took her elbow. “Let's watch from the balcony.”

  The private boxes were on the very top tier of the cantilevered stands with dizzying view over the stadium. In the distance the monolithic slums of Happy Valley and their flagpoles of laundry rose stark against a backdrop of quarry scars.

  The runners were in their stalls.

  There was a big crowd today, perhaps fifty thousand people, it was the last meeting before the summer recess. The newspapers said would be more money laid on the last race on the card here at Happy Valley this afternoon than the whole card in all the racecourses in England.

  “You ever lose money, Ruby-ah, big money?”

  She thought of the six hundred thousand that had filtered through her fingers in the last few weeks and she felt physically sick. “Sometime,” she said.

  “Me, I never lose,” Louis said. “Not ever. Always find some way to make good my loss. You understand?”

  Ruby understood but she wondered if Eddie would. There was a roar from the crowd and she turned back to watch the race. The runners were under way.

  “You are Buddhist?” Louis asked her, pointing to the tiny gold Buddha that she wore on a chain at her throat.

  Ruby shook her head. She hooked a finger inside the neck of her silk blouse and pulled out the chain, showed him the two other charms, a gold crucifix and a little jade elephant. “Never can be too lucky,” she said.

  Louis Huu laughed. “Insurance! You are wise girl, Ruby-ah. You are like me, you never leave luck to chance.”

  Ruby looked over his shoulder. She saw Timothy Wong, resplendent in a bow tie, watching the race through his binoculars. Beside him were a group of London bankers, fat bulging over the collars of their two tone blue pin-striped shirts. The bankers' wives, in their minks and diamonds, were screeching with excitement, like harridans in a fish market.

  “You always lucky, Ruby?” Louis asked her. “Good to be lucky. But perhaps more better to own the horse. Like me.”

  “You own number seven, Louis?

  “Not just number seven. Own whole race, Ruby. Easy when you know how. Maybe better you ask me before you bet.”

  Lucky Gem was in front at the last turn, holding the inside rail. Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. Six to one.

  The horses jostled for position, and then a gasp went around the stadium as one of the horses went down, bringing down a big grey behind it. The leading horses lengthened their strides as they came up the straight, whips flying.

  Louis handed her his binoculars. Ruby focused on the leading horses, saw the foam flecked along their flanks. Lucky Gem still had her head in front. The roar of the crowd rose in a wave. Neck and neck but Golden King was making up ground on the outside.

  All gods concentrate on my joss!

  They thundered past the winning post in a blur. Ruby knew she had won. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but as she handed the glasses back to her companion, her hand was shaking.

  She gave him a soft smile. “Guess is okay just to be lucky,” she said.

  “Perhaps.” He looked up at the Totalizator board. Confirmation of the result had still not come up on the screen. An anxious murmur passed around the stadium. “The stewards have posted the objection flag,” Louis said, casually, as if it was of no consequence.

  Ruby felt a stab of panic. She leaned on the rail for support. No! She could not lose this race, she could not face Eddie and tell him his seven hundred thousand was all gone!

  Louis was studying his race program. “You have number for the next race. Ruby-ah?”

  Ruby stared at him. The next race? If they disqualified Lucky Gem, she was finished, broke.

  Timothy Wong wandered over. “An interesting spectacle,” he said. “We are second at the moment, I believe.”

  “Perhaps I will still repay your hospitality,” Louis said. “May I introduce friend of mine, Miss Ruby Wen.”

  Timothy Wong took her hand and gave her a slight bow, all English public school manners and greasy smile. Ruby barely responded. If the stewards upheld the objection, she had lost again. Eddie-ah would open her bones to the light for this.

  'Mister Wong is one of Hong Kong's most illustrious citizens,” Louis was saying. “I persuade him to place his stake on my horse for this race. Hope I shall not disappoint him.” There was another gasp from the crowd, people started shouting, some in anger, some in excitement. Numbers appeared on the Tote board in the center of the track. First place, number seven.

  A voice on the tannoy explained that Lucky Gem had been disqualified.

  Ruby rushed out, leaving Louis Huu and her astonished host staring after her. She pushed through the checkpoints and turnstiles. Once outside she was physically sick in the street. A policeman on traffic duty stared at her in disgust, thinking she was drunk.

  She found a taxi and slumped into the rear seat, gave him her address in the Mid-levels. She felt numb. What was she going to do? Ruby-ah in big trouble now.

  No shit.

  Chapter 33

  The Luk Yu teahouse was in a laneway behind Queens Road Central, it was snarled all day long by minibuses and delivery vans and thrown into perpetual shadow by the tall office towers all around it. But the teahouse itself was like stepping back fifty years in time. Black fans turned slowly on the high ceilings, the chairs were lacquered rosewood, the tables inlaid with marble. There were burnished brass spittoons and kettles on warming stands on the floor. Stained glass murals and framed Chinese scrolls decorated the walls.

  Eddie Lau and Vincent Tse lounged in a mirrored private booth with a blackwood table. Pak yok-kong, the Ox, was waiting for them, his Paper Fan, Peter Man, sitting next to him.

  The Ox had once been a feared street fighter, his nickname derived from his strength and size, but now he looked fat and soft. Eddie sneered at his pink silk Nina Ricci tie, and his Cartier wristwatch, the thin crocodile strap like something a woman would wear. These days I could snap his windpipe with one blow, Eddie thought.

  There was a fifth man present, grey-haired and sallow-cheeked, a law clerk from one of the nearby solicitor's offices. Now in his seventies, Tai wai-chau still bore the rank of Incense Master in the 14K. He had been invited to the teapot talk to act as arbiter.

  A waiter brought a pot of Cloud Mist tea and poured five cups. The Ox tapped three fingers on the table in acknowledgement.

  “May your health and prosperity increase tenfold,” the Ox said.

  Eddie nodded and sipped the tea.

  Enquiries were made after the health of relatives, as custom demanded, and Mister Tai was congratula
ted on his longevity and good health. The doctors had taken the wire out of Vincent's jaw but he still wore dark glasses to hide the stitches and bruising around his eyes. No one had the bad manners to remark on it.

  “How is business?” Eddie asked.

  The Ox put his hands on his knees. “Heya, last month I bought my second Rolls Royce. My wife wanted me to have it spray painted pink. Pink! I paid one hundred and fifty thousand dollars just for the license plate.”

  “I don't have such problems. I don't have a wife.”

  The Ox chuckled. “You're smart. More smart than me!” He nudged Peter Man as if it was a huge joke. “I hear you got yourself some good business now. You are a pretty damn clever fellow. I remember when you were just a punk.”

  Eddie did not rise to the bait.

  The Ox took another sip of tea. “Yes, you are a pretty damn fine fellow now.”

  Eddie said nothing, waiting.

  “Your family lucky to have such a fine son. Must be proud of you, pretty damn businessman.”

  Eddie balled his hands into fists under the table. The waiter brought a second pot of tea.

  Mister Tai cleared his throat. When he spoke his voice was dry, like the rustling of old leaves. “Perhaps now we can discuss our business here,” he said. “Perhaps to start with Lau hsu-shui's complaint.”

  “The Ox took something that belongs to me,” Eddie said.

  The Ox shook his head. “If I ever get something that belongs to Eddie Lau, I give it back.”

  “I lose nearly two hundred kilos of little four. I think maybe you know where my property is gone.”

  The Ox looked at Peter Man in astonishment, then at Mister Tai. “I do not know what pin-mun he is talking about. I do not deal in such evil, grandfather.” He turned back to Eddie. “You want my advice, neither should you.”

  “I know about Martin Fong.”

  The Ox looked aggrieved. “You got no subtle, Eddie. Maybe you're not so smart, like they say you are.”

  “Martin Fong is one of your horses.”

  “Martin Fong not acting on my orders, Eddie. If he is, he will not end up like barbecued pork. I don't have cheap Charlie cookshops in Hong Kong.”

  Eddie did not look convinced.

  The Ox smiled. “Look, Eddie-ah, don't want this bad stuff between you and me. I have simple life now. Keep my wife happy, pay for kids to go to good schools. Very expensive now, you know? Got plenty of good business without stealing from Eddie Lau. Why this aggravation, heya? Don't need. You and I should be friend.”

  Eddie sipped his tea. Perhaps he could settle this right now, kill him with just with one chop.

  “How can we settle this bad feeling between you?” Mister Tai said, looking at the Ox.

  “Three weeks ago I lose three blue lantern. Just young boys, now their families very unhappy. I lose big face for this. Perhaps if I have five hundred thousand dollar I can give their families, it will be better.”

  Vincent jumped up and Eddie laid a restraining hand on his arm. He sat down again, but slowly. The Ox appeared dismayed at this demonstration of bad manners.

  Five hundred thousand dollars! Eddie thought. I am not kow-towing to you, fucking your mother! “I also suffer great unhappiness,” he said, his voice even. “One of my business associates is chopped in Jaffe Road. This looks very bad for me. His family and his Hung brothers are sworn to revenge. What can I do? Perhaps if my property is returned I can compensate for their grief and their lost face.”

  The Ox contrived to look concerned. “See you have pretty damned situation, Eddie. But is not my problem. I do not have anything that belong to Eddie Lau. I do not know why you have this idea. But for five hundred thousand dollars, perhaps we can be friendly again. It will be more better for you.”

  “Got plenty of friend already, heya,” Eddie said.

  “Good to have a lot of friend. Man can never have too many.”

  The waiter brought a third pot of tea. This time Mister Tai poured, three fresh cups, facing the spout towards them. He placed them in front of the Ox. Eddie watched the other man's hands; if he took the center cup, it signified the Ox had agreed to compensate him for the loss of his powder. If he drank all three it meant war.

  The Ox considered, then took the center cup and drank it. Eddie waited.

  The Ox picked up the next two cups and drank them down also, one after the other.

  Eddie thanked Mister Tai for his assistance, and he and Vincent left without another word.

  ***

  Ruby stepped out of the shower, naked, drying her hair with a towel. She was sore from the previous night's lovemaking. Eddie had always been an imaginative lover, but never a gentle one.

  He wasn't in the bedroom, she guessed he was lifting weights. His penthouse apartment had its own gymnasium, a large carpeted room fitted with the latest Nautilus equipment. A full length smoked glass window afforded dizzying views over the harbor.

  She watched him from the doorway, bench pressing seventy kilos. He wore just a pair of swimming trunks and his body glistened with sweat, the dragons tattooed on his upper arms squirmed and danced. His muscles were bound to the bone in hard little knots.

  She had made a new plan to get the money back. She had nothing to sell; her apartment and her car were both in Eddie's name. She had her jewelry and that would perhaps cover the debt. But no need to resort to that, she thought, not yet; just needed another stake, a temporary loan. One of the casinos in Macao had offered her a line of credit up to one hundred thousand Hong Kong.

  He looked around as she walked in. “Want you to go to Bangkok, Ruby-ah' he said.

  “Bangkok?”

  He grunted as he lifted the weight off the bar and then set it down on the rest. “Need to find a new supply of little four.”

  “Why don't we make gong-jou , a peace agreement, with Louis Huu?”

  “Because it is Louis Huu who sell me out to the Yellow Air.”

  “Because you owe him money.”

  “I do not get my powder, he does not get his money.”

  Eddie lifted the bar from its rest, and the dragons on his biceps coiled back to life, and his cheeks puffed out with the strain. Ruby stood next to him.

  “Saw Louis Huu yesterday.”

  “Where?”

  Cannot say Happy Valley, Ruby thought. He will know I have broken my promise. “Peninsula Hotel. Go there to meet a friend. Louis Huu is there, greet me like we are cousin. Then he whisper that he is going to kill you if you do not pay him for his powder.”

  “Louis Huu is an old woman.”

  She put both her hands on the bar then took her feet from the floor, transferring her weight to the seventy kilograms Eddie was already holding. His eyes started in fear. He could not bend his arms to lower the bar to the stand because of her weight on it. If he did not hold the bar, it would fall across his throat. His arms were locked, straight up.

  Sweat poured off his face and dripped onto the floor.

  “Is why you are sending send me to Bangkok, pretty baby? Maybe you think he will kill me instead!”

  He could not answer her. The veins bulged in his temple, his eyes almost starting from his head. She transferred her weight again so that the little tuft of hair at her groin was just inches from his face. “You get us all killed, Eddie-ah. Got war with the Sun Yee On, now you want to make us enemy of Louis Huu as well? Just pay him his money!”

  He shook his head.

  “You think you are so bloody big! Just bloody stupid!”

  His whole body was shaking, his stomach and chest muscles in spasm. She jumped off the bar and walked out of the room.

  Eddie gasped, but was still unable to bend his arms. His muscles had locked. He rolled his shoulders back and unlocked his fingers. The bar crashed to the floor. He groaned and lay for a long while on the bench, spread-eagled, panting with the pain of the torn muscles in his shoulders. ‘Kill you, Ruby-ah,’ he murmured. He heard the door crash shut as she went out.

  Chapter 34r />
  It happened in Queens Plaza at three o'clock in the afternoon, for God's sake. Someone, somewhere, has taken leave of their senses.

  The backdrop for the disaster was a diner called the New York Grill, a trendy deli that had become the place to see and be seen for middle-class Chinese and power-suited gwailos. It was an idealized vision of Americana, all chrome and fake marble with a CD jukebox and a menu featuring malts and cheeseburgers. The staff wore Dodgers baseball caps and T-shirts.

  The Grill was a favorite meeting place for middle-management lieutenants of the Sun Yee On. This was why it had been targeted by two toughs from Eddie Lau's triad. But this time, instead of meat cleavers, someone had used a gun.

  ***

  The traffic was snarled back to Chater Gardens in one direction and Luard Road in the other. A BMW was actually trying to nose a way through the onlookers on the pavement by pushing them aside with its front bumper. An angry Chinese youth hammered on the car's bonnet with the flat of his hand. Lacey abandoned her own Toyota and followed the chorus of car horns to the scene.

  The entrance to the plaza had been cordoned off by motorcycle officers in yellow vision jackets. A crowd had gathered all along the glass frontage, shoving for a better view of the body.

  A uniformed policeman who identified himself as Sergeant Yao Pau-fuk sketched the first details for her as they went up to the mezzanine on the escalator. Two men had walked into the Deli and produced meat cleavers from their jackets, attacking one of the patrons. The victim had drawn a firearm and his attackers had fled into the plaza. The man had fired two shots after his assailants. One of them had hit a Caucasian woman in the head and she had died instantly.

  “Witnesses?” Lacey said.

  “The girl's friend,” the sergeant said. “She is hysterical, we put her in a car, someone is with her, but she does not make any sense yet. Two others, Australians. But, you know, they said it all happened very fast.”