The Daughters of Henry Wong

by Harrison Young

  There was no hope for Ping, I decided. Her very very senior boss would make use of her and then discard her. She was a clever child but would never be a Chinese adult. Princeton had infected her with optimism. She believed in redemption. She believed Zhang was capable of more than tactical friendship. She believed Calvin would survive. She believed China could change.

  28

  I spent “D-Day minus one,” as the press called it, in Henry’s office, shredding files. I’d been at it for a couple of days. Catherine brought them to me in stacks and emptied the shredder each time it filled up. She understood what I was doing.

  I had resolved my relationship with Catherine. I realized she had blue eyes – meaning that despite her Chinese features, there was Caucasian blood on both her mother’s and her father’s sides. The notion of mixed blood was subconsciously troubling. There must have been pictures of my father in Boston grandmother’s house – never explained but there. My father’s medals were on display in Charleston but he was never spoken of. At most, my grandfather seemed to disapprove of him. All of which felt like rejection. Rejection causes anger, which I had learned to repress. Until I figured this out, Catherine had made me uncomfortable.

  I was smart enough to know that I couldn’t say any of this to Catherine. But her severe black dresses and perfect comportment no longer frightened me. I realized what a handsome fifty-year-old she was. I suspected that, thirty years earlier, proud, intelligent, beautiful Catherine, ineligible for marriage into any proper Chinese family, must have been Cedric’s mistress. That was how she’d seen so many of China’s artistic treasures. And now she was his “spy in Henry’s camp.” Cedric had taken advantage of Catherine, and also taken care of her, for most of her life – a very Chinese arrangement.

  Cedric’s ancestor had been right about what you could learn by “handling” files. As I leafed through faded carbon copies of memoranda and letters on engraved stationery from solicitors in pleasant places, these files spoke of sadness. Henry had been compiling a record to show Su Ling. Catherine would have understood that.

  Simon called. It must have been dawn in London.

  “I wish I could be with you tomorrow,” he said. “And so does Serena.”

  “I have Sam here,” I said. “And Serena has other priorities.”

  He didn’t respond to that. I wished I hadn’t said it.

  “Is there an approved etiquette for these things?” I asked. I didn’t care about the etiquette, actually, but I thought Simon would like being asked.

  “No,” he said. “But if I were in your place, I would have a letter of resignation in my pocket. If your slate of directors wins, Mercury and his friends don’t have to resign. They’ve been voted out. But if your slate loses, Chao Yinhang’s board, which already exist, has to meet and appoint a new board and management of their new subsidiary, Pearl River. You might prefer to go gracefully, and not make them fire you.”

  “What about the other directors? Should I collect letters from them too?”

  “No. Your gesture says it all. And you don’t want anyone to know that you even contemplate defeat.”

  “I don’t.”

  I could sense Simon weighing various responses. “But you’re putting your office in order?” he said. That was why he had called.

  “Just housekeeping that should have been done earlier,” I said.

  There was another piece of “housekeeping” I’d neglected. I hadn’t contacted Julia. I was no longer sure why I’d sent her back to New York in the first place. I had been saying that I needed to stay focused, but how did she prevent that? I suppose I felt that intimacy was a risk I couldn’t take just then. She didn’t call either, but that was just Julia being polite and wise.

  Sam came by at five, soon after I had finished, and proposed a drink.

  “Are you sure you want to be seen with me?” I asked.

  “If you lose, I lose with you,” he said.

  I told him I could have just the one, as Helen Fong and her crew were showing up in a couple of hours. “They’re doing a special,” I said. We went to a quiet bar in an unfashionable hotel, where no one would recognize either of us.

  Sam had more faith or better manners than his senior partner. “When this is behind you, Wendy, is there someone you can trust to run the bank so you can take a break – take the little boys to the Grand Canyon or the Rockies – go somewhere that will make you forget Hong Kong?” He left unspoken the fact that if I lost, getting away from Hong Kong would be imperative.

  “Henry has built a good team,” I told him. “Under ordinary circumstances they can run the bank without me. But I can’t leave right away. There will be a lot to do, integrating Chao Yinhang. I’m sure Mercury has many good people, not that he probably even knows their names. They will think they should leave. They will think I will make them redundant, and want to anticipate me. I must ensure that they stay.”

  “You’ve gotten to like this chief executive stuff, eh?”

  “Having responsibility grows on a person.”

  Sam left it at that.

  We both looked at our drinks. He knew I was practicing certainty on him.

  “There’s a rumor in the market,” he said, “that Zhang Hai Ming is going to come and tender his shares in person.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I said. “He will preserve his options until the last possible moment.”

  The arrangement was that Mercury’s offer closed at noon, at which point their accountants and our accountants would jointly certify the level of acceptances. If Chao Yinhang got more than 50 percent, they controlled us.

  “I’m tendering in person too,” I said. Sam reminded me that I actually had no choice any more. Under the rules, what you said publicly, in the midst of a takeover battle or a proxy contest, had to be made good. And if you didn’t honor your words, the investment bankers advising you got in serious trouble.

  “I have no intention of going back on my word,” I said, “even if you find me a loophole.” I was play-acting, of course. What drove me wasn’t honor but destiny. You can’t claim credit for your destiny, any more than you can escape it.

  Since Chao Yinhang’s cash-and-shares offer allowed accepting shareholders to opt for all-cash or all-shares, provided there were enough shareholders making offsetting requests, it would take some time for the accountants to figure out who owned how many Chao Yinhang shares. Only then would it be clear how many shares any of Chao Yinhang’s new shareholders could vote. I hoped enough Pearl River Bank shareholders would select the all-cash offer, to give me all shares, but the accountants would have to figure that out. Only then could the EGM begin.

  This could have allowed for a lot of trickery, with Mercury adjourning the meeting and creating an interregnum, during which he would control Pearl River Bank, even though the votes were there to oust him. One of Sam’s best achievements was getting the securities regulator to insist that the EGM occur that day – “even if it took until midnight for the accountants to complete their work.”

  “Are you voting in person at the EGM as well?” said Sam. He knew I would be, but I guess he just wanted to settle me down.

  “Yes. And if Zhang is tendering in person, I guess he will do the same.”

  “You may need Zhang’s votes. He hasn’t communicated with you?”

  “No. And I take it there is no way of knowing how many proxies the punters will have given to Mercury?”

  “He’ll have quite a few. That’s what typically happens. They just check the box that says let the chairman decide how to vote, even though, in this case, doing so is equivalent to voting for Mercury.” Sam took a sip of his whisky. “It will be a nail-biter.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I doubt that Mercury has ever been through what he will experience tomorrow.”

  “What about you, Big Wendy?”

  I just smiled.

  Helen and I sat in our usual places. It was seven in the evening, and we were live.

  I let her open.


  “Tomorrow, Mr. Jonathan Lee will learn whether his family keeps control of Pearl River Bank. On the eve of D-Day, he has agreed to speak to us once again. Mr. Lee?”

  “Helen, let me begin by saying what I told your viewers a month ago. I support the merger. I will be accepting Chao Yinhang’s offer on behalf of my family. And as an indication of our faith in the institution that will be created, I will tell you that we have requested the all-shares alternative.”

  “That means you could own as much as eighteen percent of the bank, doesn’t it, since the arbitrageurs and hedge funds who have bought into your bank will want cash?”

  “I couldn’t predict anyone else’s behavior, but I have read similar analyses in the press.”

  “But will that be enough to win the proxy fight?”

  “It all depends on the independent shareholders.”

  “But don’t they normally give their proxies to the chairman, who in this case is Mr. Chao? Won’t they have just ticked that box on the form and sent it in when they tendered their shares?”

  “This isn’t a normal situation, Helen.”

  “But you have to admit, twenty-four hours from now you could be out of a job.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You told me you had another matter you wished to say something about.”

  “Yes. Thank you. As some of your viewers may be aware, there was an attempt on my life last week, and what we believe was an attempted kidnapping of my sons not long before that.” None of this had yet been disclosed in the press, in fact, so I paused to let Helen’s listeners take the new information in. “Thanks to the foresight and alertness of the Hong Kong police, both attacks were thwarted. I have made a substantial donation to the Policemen’s Benevolent Fund to demonstrate my appreciation.

  “One has to assume that in both cases, the criminals’ objective was to prevent me from winning the proxy contest, or to persuade me to withdraw. I don’t know why they wanted to do that, or in whose interest that might have been…”

  “It would be in Mercury Chao’s interest, would it not?”

  “Well, of course, Helen, but this is my point. I do not believe Mercury Chao was behind these attacks. He is simply not the sort of man who could have a rival killed.” I stopped abruptly to let Helen prompt me.

  “Not that sort of man?”

  “I’ve said publicly that I do not think he is a good banker, but if the shareholders disagree, and he does remain chairman, I do not want rumors clinging to him. That would be bad for the bank. And anything that is bad for Hong Kong’s largest local bank will be bad for Hong Kong. I intend to remain in Hong Kong, no matter what the outcome, and we intend to retain our shares in the bank. So I want to say categorically that I do not believe Mercury Chao is capable of criminal violence.” Again I stopped.

  “Is that it, Mr. Lee?”

  “That’s it, Helen.”

  After the TV crew left, I called Zhang.

  “I have an important piece of information,” I said. “It concerns Henry.” There was silence on the line. He had to assume I was lying but he had to be curious. “I am asked to deliver the message before the vote.” More silence. “I assume you will be tendering your shares, as will I, but there will be a break of a few hours before they can hold the EGM. I will be in a suite upstairs.” The meetings were both being held in a hotel ballroom. I told him the room number. Ping and I had already done a reconnaissance. “Could you come see me a few minutes before the EGM convenes?”

  Zhang grunted his assent.

  I asked Song to give me a bowl of noodles. It was a simple supper, which I expected her to serve on the little table in the library, where I used to eat lunch when I was cataloging Henry’s books, but she set a place in the dining room, at the head of the table, with the silver and best china. She stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching me eat.

  “You very good,” she said finally. “You very good.” I could hear her laughing all the way back to the kitchen.

  29

  More than 90 percent of Pearl River’s shares were tendered. The accountants announced that right away. Zhang Hai Ming handed in his form at the last possible moment. He looked hard at me, as if to say, “tough luck,” though his acceptance of Chao Yinhang’s bid wasn’t really the issue. After my endorsement of a merger, everyone should be tendering. What mattered was the vote on who the directors of the bank would be. The deadline for that vote was in the afternoon.

  The accountants reckoned it would take until three o’clock to match those who wanted cash with those who wanted shares, so they told everyone to go to lunch. As he was leaving, I pulled Mercury aside.

  “That was very statesmanlike, Wendy, your TV appearance last night. I appreciated it.”

  Some men might have reacted to my speech on television differently, but Mercury’s fortunate life had not equipped him with suspicion.

  “I wonder,” I said, “if I could have a private word with you before the EGM begins? Not now. You have people waiting for you.” I gestured to the lawyers, bankers and other supporters clustered at the door of the ballroom. “I have a suite upstairs where I can have a sandwich without an audience.” I told him the number. “Could you come at two forty-five? Just the two of us. I have a request.”

  “Of course I can,” he said.

  Sam lingered as the ballroom emptied. “Want company?” he said.

  “Thanks, but I need to be alone.”

  “Well, you probably have it under control. But if you need me, you have my cell phone number.”

  I had a hamburger and a Coke and felt American. Mercury was a soft target, but if deception was this easy, why didn’t more people practice it? Ping showed up at one forty-five. We went over the drill. It took forever, of course, for the next hour to pass, but Mercury was right on time. Ping let him in, pushing the room service table out the door behind him, and then closing the inner door to the living room. He assumed she was hotel staff, and didn’t even look at her. I stood at the far end of the living room, with my jacket off and my sleeves rolled up. Mercury walked toward me with his hand extended.

  “You may not be capable of violence, Mercury, but I am.” He was wearing braces, as I had expected. I yanked his pants down so hard that the buttons popped off. Pulling him toward me, I sat down on a straight-backed chair, ripped away his underpants and began to spank him. Remembering Serena’s instructions, I grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled back his head. As I did so, Ping reappeared with a video camera and circled around us to get his face into the frame and record his humiliation. Ten seconds would probably have done it. She could make stills from the tape. But I kept it up for nearly a minute. My hand hurt quite a lot, and his bottom turned bright red. My eyes stung. This is for Amanda, I said to myself, which was hypocritical, of course. To him I said nothing until I stopped and let him drop to the floor. He’d screamed quite a bit, but the two sets of doors made that futile. Sprawled on the carpet he was quiet and small.

  “Pull yourself together, Mercury, and listen,” I said, resisting an inappropriate urge to kick him, and telling myself to calm down. It didn’t feel like triumph – just slaughter.

  “My friend here,” I said, calling his attention to Ping’s presence, “has filmed this encounter. She will make copies. Should you go downstairs and make a speech I am about to describe, she will retain them. She will also wish to discuss certain property transactions in Shanghai and Fuzhou. I’m sure you can oblige her with names and explanations.”

  Mercury shuddered.

  “The speech is very gracious and will be easy to give.” The script rattled as I unfolded it, and I took a deep breath. “You explain that you have a surprise for the market. Having arranged the amalgamation of Hong Kong’s two principal local banks, you feel you have accomplished what you can as a banker, and you wish to devote yourself more completely to the worthy causes that already occupy a substantial portion of you time. Accordingly, you are voting your own shares, and those of shareholders who have g
iven you their proxy, in favor of the slate of directors proposed by Mr. Jonathan Lee. Mr. Lee has asked you to remain a member of the board, but you have declined. And you wish the combined organization well.”

  I let him absorb that for a moment. “If you are unable to say and do what I’ve asked, copies of the tape will be posted this afternoon to twenty people whose esteem you value – and also to three or four journalists – the sort who would use it.” I paused. “I’m sure everyone will be fascinated. Even my hard-hearted friend here was mildly amused.”

  Mercury’s world had just collapsed, but long experience of getting his own way without much effort made him waver. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, getting to his feet and organizing his clothes.

  At this point the doorbell rang. Ping ushered in Zhang. She was still holding the video camera in her hand.

  “Do you know Zhang Hai Ming?” I said to Mercury. “Mr. Zhang is the publisher of Mosquito, and a very old friend of my father-in-law. Hai Ming, Mr. Chao has just informed me that he will be voting for my slate of directors. I thought you would want to know.”

  Mercury looked at me with his mouth open, and then at Zhang and then at Ping. She winked at him.

  “Give me the speech,” he said. He was still shaking when he went to the podium.

  So was I.

  30

  I had wondered for the past few months – once she began to bring me breakfast and I had reason to think about her at all – whether Song might not be Henry’s daughter. She was the right age. How she came to the Castle, at what must have been eighteen years old, was never discussed. She conducted herself with a mixture of devotion and assurance that belied her status as a servant. I’d put the question aside, not because it seemed absurd – many outrageous things are true in China – but because it was contrary to the “official reality” of the household. As Henry’s Rolls took me back to Wong Castle, I pondered what changes in official reality might be about to occur.