Spiked

  She had chosen to drop by his restaurant at 3 p.m., hoping to catch him between the noon-time and dinner rush hours. The Golden Dragon was an Ottawa institution and Tony was proud that celebrities and politicians often came in when they were in town. The front lobby of the restaurant was full of pictures of Tony and the famous, although the restaurant itself looked as if it had been decorated with garage sale castoffs. The tables and chairs didn’t match and the place hadn’t been painted in years. The air was heavy with the smell of spice, oil and an undercurrent of fish.

  “You are so thin, Suzy. Let me get you something to eat.”

  “No, that’s OK Tony. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  “Eggrolls, then. No trouble.” Tony shouted something in Mandarin to one of his staff, who scurried back into the kitchen.

  “Thanks Tony. They’re the best. Now, the thing I wanted to talk to you about involves a young woman from the community who died a few days ago. You might have seen a little bit on the news. This is the one who fell to her death over on Elgin Street.”

  “I did see that. Was it not a suicide?”

  “Doesn’t look like it, according to what I hear. And here’s the strange part. It’s not even clear what her real name is.”

  “Maybe not so strange,” Tony said. “Lots of people come here to get away from something back in China. Best way is to change your name, become a new person.”

  Suzy took the picture of the dead girl from her purse and placed it on the table in front of Tony. “She went by the name Mae Wang. Said she was from Vancouver. She was a student and worked as an interpreter at the embassy. That much we know for sure.”

  Tony lifted the picture gently with his stubby fingers and turned it toward the light coming from the Somerset Street windows. “She has been here a few times,” he said. “Always by herself. Unfortunately, I don’t know her.”

  Suzy realized that she had been hoping for too much. Even Tony Yam didn’t know every Chinese person in Ottawa.

  “Maybe someone here does,” he said, then called out loudly in Mandarin again. “Xi,” was the only word she understood.

  On hearing his boss’s order, a man appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a soiled apron. He didn’t look much like a cook, more like an accountant, a serious looking guy in his mid-30s with intelligent eyes. Suzy always noticed eyes.

  Tony handed the picture of Mae Wang to Xi. “You know this girl?”

  Xi gave the picture a quick glance, then shook his head. “No, never seen her.”

  His English was flawless, without accent. Why was this guy working as a cook? Despite his quick denial, Suzy thought she saw a flash of recognition. She handed him a business card and said, “Well, if you have any further thoughts, give me a call.”

  Xi disappeared quickly back into the kitchen and Suzy said, “So what’s the story on him?”

  “Recent immigrant. You know how hard it is for people to get credentials recognized in this country.”

  “What was he back home?”

  “Lawyer, now he makes great Szechwan dishes.”

  “I don’t imagine he’s too happy with that.”

  “It’s a job. Plenty of lawyers in the world.”

  “Why did you think he’d know something about this girl?”

  “Xi helps a lot of newcomers. Understanding immigration rules, things like that.”

  “He seems pretty wary.”

  “You have to be. There are three types of Chinese people here. Three generation people like me. New people coming here to escape the regime, then new people coming as eyes of the regime. Those ones are very tricky. You can’t trust them, but the question is who’s who?”

  From what little she knew, Suzy thought Mae might fall into the latter category. It might even be reason enough to get her killed. “So, these eye of the regime, what are they up to?”

  “Keeping tabs on all other Chinese. The government in Beijing thinks that a Chinese is a Chinese, no matter how long they live in another country. They expect us all to act in the interests of China?”

  “Even you?”

  Tony laughed. “No, I am an old man who runs a restaurant. I have little value to them, but I keep my own eyes on what is going on. Some of these new people, they are dangerous. When Philip was alive, he told me that some of the people in technology are here to gather up secrets for the home country.”

  “What makes them want to do that? Shouldn’t they just be glad to have gotten away?”

  “Some are forced to come. I’m sure you have read how many people the regime has imprisoned. Threats to family are common. Some are just true believers.”

  Suzy felt the Mae Wang situation getting murkier, not clearer. The question wasn’t just who Mae Wang really was, but how she fit into the big picture. Suzy wondered if Kris knew all this stuff and if she was getting any closer to cracking the mystery of Mae’s identity. Part of her hoped not. Suzy wasn’t sure yet what Mae Wang’s story was, but it felt like something big.

  Xi appeared from the kitchen again, carrying a plate of eggrolls. He set them in front of Suzy, briefly touching her hand. Was it meaningful? She really didn’t want to take in a bunch of excess calories, but she couldn’t refuse Tony’s hospitality. He was a good guy, and one who might still come in useful.

  “Wow. These look great Tony,” she said, digging in. Maybe she could skip dinner.

  Tony smiled, pleased at her compliment, then his expression became serious. “One piece of advice Suzy. Stay away from the embassy. It’s a nest of spies. People there don’t play by the rules we have here and if they get caught, the only consequence for them is to be sent home. These are dangerous people.”

  Suzy was sure that was excellent advice, but she wasn’t going to further her career by staying away from trouble.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Even though I had been dangling bait in front of Gail Rakic for days, I was still surprised when she called and suggested we get together for a drink. Of course I agreed and suggested we meet in the Red Dart, the pub on the ground floor of my building. If Gail just wanted to feed me useless tidbits, at least I wouldn’t have wasted much time.

  More likely, though, she would be angling for some kind of favourable coverage to help offset the miserable day her husband had in court.

  The Red Dart was one of those faux British pubs with wainscoting on the walls, fake timber on the ceiling and a pervasive odour of fish and chips that sometimes found its way up into the rest of the building. Not really my favourite spot, but I wasn’t going to suggest the kind of snooty downtown cocktail bar I imagined that Gail would normally frequent. Let her slum it.

  Right on time, Gail slid onto the bar stool beside me and signalled the waiter. “Vodka martini,” she said, then looked across at me. “You?”

  “No thanks, I’ve already ordered a beer.” I had never been one for fancy drinks. If you couldn’t drink it straight out of a bottle or can, it wasn’t my style.

  It was the first time I had seen Gail in casual clothes instead of the suits or pantsuits she wore to court. Her jeans were designer, of course, and the thin red sweater that clung to her ample upper body had a designer logo on it. I vaguely remembered seeing the same one on the discount rack at Winners, although I’m sure that’s not where Gail picked it up.

  “Hell of a day in court,” I said.

  “Jesus, tell me about it. That Tommy Fung is a lying prick. You spend all day listening to his bullshit, then the evening is all about rehashing it. To be honest, I just had to get out of that hotel room. That’s why I gave you a call.”

  In my experience, when people said “to be honest,” it meant that they weren’t going to be, but what she said was plausible, up to a point. I decided to encourage her. “If so, he’s good at it,” I said.

  “Just wait until Ben takes a run at him.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I read your column online. I thought it was fair.”

  I wasn’t sure whet
her she meant fair to middling, or evenhanded. I had expressed some scepticism about Fung, so I was going to go with the latter.

  “Thanks. I learned a long time ago that maybe half of what the average witness says is true. Fung is clearly not the average witness.”

  “No, he’s a hustler.”

  The waiter set Gail’s martini and my Beau’s Lugtread on the bar. As he walked away, I decided to push a bit, to see if this was the night when she would finally give me some real information or if it was just another small step on the road to becoming her bestie.

  “So what’s his angle? He said he didn’t get anything out of the deal.”

  “He didn’t get anything from that deal, but he got something from someone, you can be sure of that.”

  It was another one of those oblique answers that seemed to be her specialty. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” I said.

  “You think a guy like Fung walks away with nothing while his half-wit partner Gill makes millions on a land deal? I don’t think so.”

  “OK, that makes sense,” I said, although I wasn’t yet convinced that it did. Maybe Fung had just struck out. It happened in business all the time.

  I decided to take it in another direction. “What about the gambling debt angle? I’ve got to be honest. That seemed like a big score for the Crown. It was the first time they established a motive for why your husband would want to pocket $25,000.”

  “Sonny didn’t pocket a cent,” Gail said, eyes flashing with anger. “You want a scoop, here it is. There was no gambling debt. They’re just making it up. It’s all part of the deal those two clowns made to get themselves out of jeopardy for trying to bribe Sonny.”

  I could see that. If you were going to roll over and point to a bigger fish, you had to have something to hook him with. “If that’s so, why do you think the Crown bought it?”

  “Politics and ambition. Nail a couple of grifters for trying to bribe a politician, who cares? Nail a cabinet minister, now you’ve done something.”

  “Sure, but the Crown is still going to have to prove that the debt was real.”

  “I’m sure that they’ve already got some patsy lined up. That’s Fung’s real world, you know, gambling. That’s where he gets a lot of the cash for his so-called entrepreneurialism. Sonny did meet him at a card game, that much is true. He likes a good game of poker.”

  “And you knew about his gambling?”

  “Of course I did. I know Sonny inside out. It’s the competitive challenge for him, not the money. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses. It’s never enough to matter to us.”

  “All right. What about the fund-raiser?”

  “Sure, Gill helped organize a fund-raiser. So what? It happens all the time.”

  “What happened to the money?”

  “It went to the riding association, like it always does.”

  “I have a feeling that the Crown has someone to say it didn’t.”

  “I’m sure they will. This is a put-up job, but it’s a thorough one.”

  “It seems like you’re telling me your husband is the victim of a conspiracy.”

  “I guess it comes down to that.”

  I had met a lot of people who talked about conspiracies over the years, but I hadn’t seen many. Truth was, most people weren’t smart enough to organize one and if they tried, some weak link would always do it in. I decided that observation wouldn’t do anything to advance my relationship with Gail. I switched gears.

  “You haven’t said anything about Luc Champagne tonight. I assume you think he’s the guy behind it all.”

  “Who else? When this broke, Sonny was the leading contender to replace the PM. Champagne wanted the job, until he cut a different deal and defected to the other side. That ought to tell you something about him.”

  “Yeah, that he’s a politician. No offense to your husband.”

  “There’s a difference. Sonny’s Conservative to the bone. That’s based on his values. Champagne is an opportunist, lining up with whoever he thinks can win or will give him the best job.”

  It was a fair point, although it didn’t make Champagne guilty of anything. “All this seems like a lot to do to knock off a leadership rival. Champagne’s pretty popular. Who’s to say that he couldn’t have beaten Sonny without dirty tricks?”

  “There’s something else,” she said. “Sonny was ready to take some action of his own, something that would have finished Champagne. And no, I’m not going to tell you what it was.”

  Of course she wasn’t. I decided to take a chance. Reaching into my purse, I took out the picture of Mae Wang and passed it to Gail. “Does it have something to do with her?”

  Gail took the photo delicately between her manicured fingers and tilted it so that she could see better in the bar’s dim light. “Who is this?” she asked.

  “It’s the girl who took a swan dive off the roof of this building,” I said.

  “Really. And you think she’s connected to Luc Champagne?”

  I wasn’t about to tell her why I thought that. It was my hole card.

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Well, I can’t, but I might know someone who could.”

  Gail took out her phone and snapped a shot of the Mae Wang picture. “Let me see what I can find out.”

  “Good. We might have a mutual interest here.”

  “It’s possible.”

  Just then, I saw two guys who had been sitting just a little farther down the bar get up and head our way. Both wore grey suits and blue shirts, no ties, like they’d gone shopping together. One was heavy-set, bordering on fat with a pink shiny face and an old-school blond brush cut. The other guy was taller, square jaw, dark hair, couple of days’ growth of beard. He looked like an actor, but not a leading player. They both appeared to be in their mid-30s.

  “We’re about to get hit on,” I said to Gail.

  “Happens all the time. It comes with big tits. Do you want to tell them to fuck off or should I?”

  I didn’t like that she assumed the two were drawn by her, although she was probably right. As if to underline the point, the heavier of the two charmers split right toward me while the good-looking one zeroed in on Gail. Seeing an opportunity to establish sisterhood, I said, “Let’s see what they have to say. This could be fun.”

  The big guy stuck out a meaty hand, which I declined to shake, and said, “Hey, I’m Chip Leggett and this is my buddy Don Platt. We’re in town for that plumbing supply convention out at the EY Centre, but we’re looking for a little fun. Can’t stand around talking plumbing parts all day and all night, too.”

  Great. Salesmen, and from the mid-west, too judging by Chip’s flat vowels.

  “I suppose not,” I said. “About two minutes of that would do me. Where are you boys from?”

  “Iowa,” Chip said. “Go Hawkeyes.”

  It looked like Chip’s conversation was limited to plumbing supplies and football, while Don might well be mute. I knew that I was skinny-assed and getting older, but it was depressing to think that guys like this might be the only ones who still considered me worth chatting up.

  Just to see if Don could speak, I said, “So Don, what role do you play in the big world of plumbing supplies?”

  “Sales rep. My specialty is pipe.”

  I was trying to decide whether Don was attempting what he might have thought would be a clever double entendre when Gail surprised me. “Let’s cut to the chase. I take it you guys want to get your rocks off?”

  Don held up his hands in a slow-down gesture. “Well, we thought we might buy you a drink first, but I like the direction you’re going in.”

  “Great. Glad we could clear that up.” Then she reached into her purse and withdrew two tissues, handing one to each. “Washroom is right down that hall, boys. Go have yourselves a party.”

  Chip’s salesman’s grin immediately turned nasty. “Very funny,” he said. “Now that I see you up close, you’re a little outside our ag
e range anyway. Let’s go Don.”

  As they turned to leave, Don said, “See, I told you that’s what these Canadian women were like. Weather up here’s so cold they freeze up and never thaw out. We need to find us a couple of the local French girls, that’s what we need to do.”

  Once they were out of earshot, I said, “Nicely played. The only way those guys are going to get laid is if they pay for it.”

  The phrase tickled at something in the back of my mind. When had I used it recently? And Chip, he had looked somehow familiar, but out of context. Had I seen him somewhere before? The two of them had been sitting close enough at the bar to overhear the conversation I was having with Gail. Maybe her paranoia was contagious. And then I wondered why two guys coming from a trade show out by the airport had ended up in a bar on Elgin Street instead of some place downtown in the Market, where the real action was.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Thursday had been a frustrating day so far on the Mae Wang front. Neither Suzy nor Mike had reported in with anything new and I heard nothing more about Gail Rakic’s offer to check into Mae. Despite our newfound sisterhood, Gail had not given me so much as a glance in court or in the waiting area outside. Smart move. There was nothing in it for her to be openly friendly with the media. That would just attract the rest of the pack. I just hoped she hadn’t been leading me on.

  The challenge now was to bear down, pay attention to the trial and get my job done. The first hour of court time had been consumed by the procedural and scheduling fussing that lawyers loved, but Bernstein was just about to begin his cross-examination of Tommy Fung. I hoped it was all Gail expected it to be. Bernstein had to undermine Fung’s testimony about gambling debt as a motive. No doubt he would try to demolish whatever credibility Fung had.

  “Now Mr. Fung,” Bernstein began, “the Crown has established a little bit about your background, but I’d like to give the court a fuller picture.” Bernstein smiled, as if this would be another opportunity for Fung to demonstrate how clever, green and welleducated he was.