Fate

by Ian Hamilton

  “I have to say that I agree with Pang that an election probably isn’t necessary,” Ren said, and then looked across the table at Chow. “On the other hand, I can’t dismiss Uncle’s argument that it would be a good way to bring our family more tightly together and give our new Mountain Master the strongest possible mandate to lead us into the future.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Pang asked.

  Ren shrugged. “It isn’t black or white in my mind, but if I’m forced to make a choice, I’d opt for having an election.”

  “I’m like Ren,” Wang said. “I don’t feel strongly about it one way or the other, but I don’t see how having one could cause any harm. And it might, as Uncle suggests, be a good thing for everyone.”

  “You know where I stand,” Chow said.

  “This puts me in a bit of a difficult situation,” Ma said, and then paused. “Truthfully, I don’t think an election is necessary or that good an idea. But if I support that view, it might look like I’m afraid to have one, and that wouldn’t be good either. In fact, it might seem that I’m appointing myself Mountain Master.”

  “No one would think that,” Pang said. “The men would support you.”

  “I’d like to think that would be the case, but some might not,” Ma said.

  “What about my point?” Yu said. “Delaying your appointment would only cause confusion. We need things to be settled as quickly as possible. The gang needs to have certainty about its leadership.”

  “Excuse me, Pang, but just how long would it take to ­organize and hold an election?” Wang asked. “From what you outlined earlier, it seems it could be done in quick order.”

  “It could,” Pang said.

  “We don’t want to do anything that will distract from Gao’s period of mourning or funeral,” Ma said.

  “If the funeral is on Saturday, could we have a vote as soon as Sunday?” Wang asked.

  “I guess so,” Pang said.

  “If that’s the case, I don’t think Yu’s point about a delay has much value. What’s wrong with waiting three or four days?” Wang said. “Ma said he won’t take on the job permanently until after the funeral anyway, so that timing doesn’t change. All that changes is that instead of getting appointed on Sunday, he gets elected on Sunday.”

  Ma sipped his beer and then carefully placed the bottle on the table. “Okay, I’ve decided. We will have a vote. I don’t want it, but I understand the reasons why some of you do. But let’s have it on Monday. Sunday is our biggest business day of the week. I don’t want to disrupt it.”

  “That makes sense,” Wang said.

  Ma turned to Pang. “Where would you hold the vote?”

  “We could use our offices. There’s lots of space and it will give us privacy,” Pang said. “The voting hours could be between ten a.m. and ten p.m.”

  “Any objections?” Ma said. When no one spoke, he continued. “Then that’s settled. Pang, you’ll need to inform every initiated member about the date, times, and procedure.”

  “Yes, boss. I’ll put the word out first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Great. So, with that out of the way, let’s make a point of using the next few days to concentrate on honouring Gao. If Chi sticks to the family’s schedule, the wake will be on Friday, followed by the funeral on Saturday and then a funeral dinner that night. We should attend all those events, and I’d like to see as many of our men out as possible,” Ma said. “Now, unless there’s something urgent one of you wishes to raise, this meeting is over.”

  All the men except Ma rose from the table and began to leave. Before the door closed behind them, Ma said, “Wang, could you stay for a few minutes? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  The other four continued through the restaurant and onto the street. Yu and Pang started walking in the direction of the office while Chow and Ren lingered behind.

  “Ma was more decisive and a bit smarter than I thought he would be,” Ren said when Yu and Pang were out of earshot. “The only reason for that meeting was to get a quick endorsement as Mountain Master. All that stuff about Gao and the funeral could have waited until the family finalized the details. I have to give him credit — when he saw which way the tide was running, he was quick enough and shrewd enough to react to it.”

  “He didn’t get what he wanted, thanks to you and Wang.”

  “You started it. You put forward a solid case and you hit all the right notes.”

  “Thank you. Now we need to get to work gathering votes for you.”

  “I supported having an election,” Ren said. “But I don’t remember agreeing to let my name stand.”

  “Is that a joke?”

  “Only partially,” Ren said, and smiled. “Obviously I can’t stop men from voting for me, and if enough of them do and I win, it would be ungrateful of me not to accept the job. But don’t expect me to start campaigning or cutting deals for votes. I’ll talk to a few friends who I trust, but otherwise I’ll be keeping my head down.”

  “As I told you in the office, we’ll handle the campaigning,” Chow said.

  “Low-key, right? I don’t want you to be too aggressive. I don’t want Ma to think I’m pitting myself against him,” Ren said. “We’re all going to have to get along when this is over, and nothing sours working relationships more than women, money, or politics.”

  “I understand.”

  “Of course, what I said about not cutting deals doesn’t apply to you. If I win, you’ll get your night markets, Xu will become Straw Sandal, and I’ll be open to every other idea you have, as long as I think it will make us money.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ren nodded and looked at the restaurant. “I wonder why Ma asked Wang to stay behind.”

  “I’m going to ask him when he comes out,” Chow said.

  “Let me know if it’s anything important.”

  “Sure,” Chow said.

  “I’ll leave you now. You can reach me at home if you need me.”

  The men went in separate directions. Chow stopped outside a shoe store about twenty metres from the restaurant and waited for Wang. Ten minutes later, the Red Pole emerged. Chow shouted his name and watched as Wang walked casually towards him. “What did Ma want?” he said as soon as Wang was close enough to hear.

  “He isn’t a particularly happy man,” Wang said with a thin smile. “You put a spike in his plans.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He’s too subtle to say anything negative about you or the fact that we’re having an election he doesn’t want. He just asked me if you might have some ulterior motive for promoting the idea of an election. I told him you don’t.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But then he asked how I could be so sure,” Wang said. “I told him that we spent years on the street together and that a man’s character gets exposed there. When it comes to your character, I said you’re a straight-shooter who is absolutely loyal to the gang.”

  “That’s what I’d like to think everyone believes.”

  “Not everyone knows you as well as I do, and that includes Ma. When I said you’re absolutely loyal to the gang, he asked me if you’re loyal to him.”

  “He’s not Mountain Master yet.”

  “In his mind he thinks he is.”

  ( 8 )

  On a normal Wednesday, Chow would have spent the afternoon in his office poring over the racing form and then leave for Happy Valley around five. But events had overtaken that schedule. When he left Wang, he headed for the office in the hope of talking to Xu and Fong. Xu was there, but there was no sign of Fong.

  Chow approached Xu. “Do you know where Fong is?”

  “He got drunk last night, and after you left the restaurant he and a couple of forty-niners went to Macau. He’s on his way back now and he’ll be here any minute.”

  �
��Does he know about Gao?”

  “Yeah, that’s why he’s returning so soon. Yu managed to reach him and gave him the news.”

  “Is he coming back to the office?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Then please don’t leave until he gets here. I need to speak to you both, and I’d rather do it when we’re all together,” Chow said, and then walked into his office before Xu could ask any questions.

  He closed the office door behind him, took out his pack of Marlboros, and lit a cigarette. When he lived in China, he’d smoked Zhonghua cigarettes, a brand that was famous and readily available because it was Mao’s favourite. He’d switched brands as soon as he arrived in Fanling, trying Player’s and Capstans before settling on Marlboros. He smoked more than a pack a day, and though he understood that he was addicted and that it wasn’t good for his health, he just didn’t care. He remembered the days in Changzhai when he’d had to ration a pack of Zonghuas to two smokes a day because that was all he could afford. He’d also collected butts off the street in Wuhan, scraping out the few meagre shreds of tobacco left in them in the hope that he’d finally get enough to be able to roll a whole cigarette. Now he could indulge his habit, and doing so as much as he did was just another way to blow smoke at the Communists.

  Chow leaned back, his head pressed into the back of the chair, and replayed in his mind the meeting and its aftermath. They were going to have an election, so he had done what he’d set out to do, but truthfully it didn’t give him any real sense of satisfaction. He had most likely alienated Ma, and Ren hadn’t displayed as much enthusiasm as he would have liked. Still, he thought, what else could I have done? Ma would have killed the night-market idea, and any other idea that ran contrary to the way things have always been done. He likes the tried and true, the easy way.

  Chow tried to think of a single positive thing that Ma had accomplished as Deputy Mountain Master, and couldn’t. From a negative viewpoint, aside from trying to block Chow’s initiatives, he had contributed to worsening relations with the residents of Fanling by continually trying to expand the number of people and businesses who paid protection money. Chow liked to think there could be a healthy interdependence between the citizens and the gang. Ma acted as if he was a lord and they were his peasants. Chow knew how people who were treated like peasants thought and acted; he wasn’t that far removed from having been one himself. They could be dangerous if pushed too far — desperate people do desperate things. He was living proof of that.

  In some ways Ren’s basic attitudes weren’t that much more refined, but at least he had shown an ability to listen and to adapt. He had been a strong supporter of the changes Chow wanted to make with their gambling operations, and when those changes were approved, Ren, as Vanguard, had made sure they were implemented in a competent and thorough way. With Ren, Chow thought, you don’t get a knee-jerk reaction. You actually get some thoughtfulness. Although, if truth be told, it’s usually directed towards his own self-interest. And self-interest is what he has displayed during our talks and meeting. Chow didn’t see that as necessarily a bad thing, because if that self-interest was tied to the health of the gang, the gang’s future and his own would be inseparable.

  “I’m overthinking this,” Chow muttered as he put out his cigarette and reached for another. As he did, his phone rang.

  “Wei.”

  “This is Ma.”

  “Yes?” Chow said, trying to remember the last time Ma had called him.

  “Gao Chi just called me. Everything has been confirmed. The funeral will be on Saturday at noon at the Hop Sing Funeral Home. The wake will be on Friday from noon to five. I need you to do something for me.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Normally I would have asked Pang, since he’s the ceremonies master, but he’s going to be busy organizing the election and I don’t want to dump everything on him,” Ma said. “I’d like you to order flowers for the wake and I’d appreciate it if you could book three funeral bands. The flowers should be there by Friday morning. Of course, we don’t need the bands until Saturday.”

  Chow was about to say that Pang had an assistant who could look after such matters, but he bit his tongue. This was undoubtedly Ma’s way of putting him in his place. “I’ll be pleased to look after those things,” he said. “Do you have any particular flowers in mind?”

  “Whatever Hop Sing thinks is suitable.”

  “I’ll call them as soon as we’re off the phone.”

  Ma paused. “Uncle, I also want to tell you that even though you and I have disagreed about gang business in the past, it was never personal. I have a lot of respect for you. I’m just more of a traditionalist.”

  “I understand,” Chow said, wondering what had prompted that remark.

  “And you shouldn’t have any worries about holding on to your position. I want you to continue in that job.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Great. Now, make sure you book three bands,” Ma said. “I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of the other Mountain Masters.”

  Chow stared at the phone as Ma hung up on him. What the hell was that about? he thought. How many assumptions has Ma made about what I’m thinking? And was that his idea of an attempt to win me over? He put the phone back on its cradle, but before he could find the number for the Hop Sing Funeral Home, there was a knock at his door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  Fong and Xu entered and sat down in chairs across from the desk.

  “How was Macau?” Chow asked Fong.

  Fong grimaced.

  “How much did you lose this time?”

  “Five thousand.”

  “Do you need a loan?”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “How did Yu get hold of you?”

  “He knew where I was. I have to say, I’ve never heard him quite so shook up.”

  “It was a shock to us all,” Chow said.

  “So now what happens?”

  “Gao will be buried on Saturday. There will be a wake on Friday at the Hop Sing Funeral Home, and then the service is on Saturday. Ma has been busy inviting all the Mountain Masters he can reach. I’ve been put in charge of buying flowers and hiring three funeral bands,” Chow said.

  “Shouldn’t that be Pang’s job?” Xu asked.

  “According to Ma, Pang is too busy organizing an election for the next Mountain Master.”

  “Election?” Fong said, surprised.

  “You haven’t spoken to Yu since you got back from Macau?”

  “No, I came straight here.”

  “How about you, Xu? Have you heard anything about the election?” Chow asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, we’re having one this coming Monday. Each initiated member has a right to vote for his Mountain Master, and the executive committee decided that everyone would be given that opportunity.”

  “I thought Ma would be appointed. Isn’t that how it normally works?” Fong said.

  “That has become the tradition, but it isn’t set down in the rules,” Chow said. “I managed to persuade the committee to hold an election.”

  “Ma went along with that?”

  “Reluctantly, and only after Wan and Ren supported me,” Chow said. “Your boss backed Ma.”

  “The two of them are tight,” Fong said. “They must be pissed off with you.”

  “Ma certainly is. He thought the job was his by right.”

  “The thought of Ma as Mountain Master doesn’t fill me with optimism,” Xu said. “He’s been opposed to everything we’ve tried to do, and I’ve never found him to be that capable.”

  “That’s why I wanted the election.”

  “But even if there is an election, what’s to prevent him from winning?” Fong asked.

  “Not what. Who,” Chow said. “We need to rally behi
nd another candidate. Are the two of you willing to work with me on this?”

  “Uncle, are you going to run —”

  “Not a chance,” Chow said quickly. “I’m too junior, and my mainland background is a huge negative. No, I was thinking of Ren. In fact, I’ve done more than think. I’ve pitched him on the idea and he’s on board.”

  “He is competent, he’s senior, and he’s from Tai Po, which is local enough. And he has supported a lot of our initiatives,” Xu said.

  “And if we can get him elected, he’s promised to keep supporting them,” Chow said.

  “I can understand why we’d want to do this, but even if people think Ma is incompetent, not everyone will be prepared to support Ren,” Fong said. “Ma is from Fanling and has the loyalty of the local brothers. I know the two of you, with your mainland roots, might think of Tai Po as local, but they sure as hell don’t, and there are some who actually think he’s too close to the Tai Po gang.”

  “Then when we’re promoting him, we should avoid mentioning Tai Po,” Chow said.

  “Uncle, do we really want to go down this road?” Fong asked.

  “It’s too late for me to back away from it now. I made a commitment to Ren, and whether you’re with me or not, I have to go through with this,” Chow said. “I know Ren isn’t perfect, but it seems to me this isn’t a choice between better and best. It’s more like choosing who we think will do the least damage to the gang and give us some hope for future growth.”

  Fong looked at Xu and shrugged. “What do you want us to do?” he said to Chow.

  “Pang will let everyone know about the election tomorrow. Until he does, I don’t think we should do anything. But once it’s declared, I want you to round up as many votes for Ren as possible.”

  “Round up how? And from whom?” Xu said.

  “Ren wants us to be cautious. He’d rather not have Ma know that he’s contesting the position,” Chow said. “So I suggest we talk to the guys who work with us and the guys you consider friends. We should keep it low-key, maybe suggesting that Ren is the better man for the job, rather than push him at people. I also wouldn’t be openly critical of Ma.”