Fate

by Ian Hamilton

  Chow leaned towards his friend. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to argue with you or question your judgement, but I have to believe that Ren is the man I’ve experienced and not the one you’re talking about.”

  Tian sipped his beer. As he put down the bottle, his face sagged and he looked tired. “I’ve made my case,” he said. “If at any time between now and Monday you change your mind, let me know. I still have friends. There are still people who will listen to me. I can get you votes if you decide you want them.”

  Chow got up and walked to the other side of the table. He put his hand on Tian’s shoulder and gently squeezed it. “I’m lucky to have friends like you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. But Tian, I’m not going to stand for the position. However, I would appreciate it if you would vote for Ren, and encourage your friends to do the same.”

  Tian looked up at him with a wry smile.” Goddammit, you piss me off — and you’ve helped me get pissed,” he said. “I won’t tell you I’ll support Ren, because I don’t know if I can, but I’m going to take you up on your offer to make sure I get home.”

  “We’ll share a cab. I’ll drop you off on the way to my apartment,” Chow said. “But no more talk about the election.”

  “You started it.”

  “I know, and now I’ve exhausted it,” Chow said. “Tomorrow the focus will be on Gao’s wake, and then the funeral on Saturday.”

  “I’ll be at both.”

  “We’ve bought ten wreaths and booked three bands. We’re told some of the other gangs have booked bands as well.”

  “That’s quite a send-off, but if anyone deserves it, it’s Gao,” Tian said, struggling to his feet. “The most bands I’ve ever seen at a funeral is six, so this could be a record.”

  “That will please him,” Chow said, reaching for Tian’s arm to offer support.

  “What would have pleased him more was having a few more years of life. When you get to my age and have my health problems, staying alive is a job all by itself.”

  ( 12 )

  Chow and Tian didn’t speak much during the cab ride. The fatigue Tian had displayed in the restaurant had intensified, and he sat slumped against the side of the door. When they got to Tian’s apartment building, Chow helped him out of the taxi and walked with him to the entrance. He tried to remember how many beers Tian had consumed, knew it had to be at least three, and made a mental note not to encourage him to drink the next time they were together.

  When they reached the building door, Tian stopped suddenly.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Chow said.

  “I’m just a bit drunk and tired,” said Tian. “But I remember now that I wanted to ask you if you and Zhang have spoken about Gao’s death.”

  “We did. We agreed it was an accident.”

  “So you’re still communicating?”

  “We are.”

  “Good. I speak to him every week or so, but of course he is too close-mouthed to talk about you,” Tian said. “I respect him for that, although I can’t help feeling curious, since it was me that brought the two of you together.”

  “We’ve continued to help each other — within reason, of course.”

  “He’s a superintendent now, the youngest in the Hong Kong Police Force,” Tian said. “Who would have thought that would happen? And who knows how much higher he can go?”

  “I can’t begin to guess where he’ll end up.”

  “I’m sure he is just as uncertain about what your future holds.”

  “Tian, I have no idea what my future holds. How can he? Or you, for that matter?”

  “Forgive an old man for rambling,” Tian said, his tiredness becoming more obvious.

  Chow opened the door and led Tian to the elevator. When he had seen him safely in, he left the building. He had intended to go back to his own apartment, but it was only late afternoon and too early to call it a day. Heading to the office was an option, but he’d finished his work for the day. He looked down the street that ran past Tian’s building and saw a mah-jong parlour that was owned and operated by the gang. He knew there would be at least one brother working inside, so he decided he’d use his time to do some politicking.

  There were two triads in the parlour. Chow spent fifteen minutes reminiscing with them about Gao, telling them about the election, and gently lobbying for Ren. He didn’t get much of a reaction, but they did direct him to a foot-massage parlour on an adjoining street where another brother hung out. That man was more receptive and, after promising his support, sent Chow to a billiard hall where he could find another three or four triads. And so it went for several more hours as Chow worked his way homeward. By the time he reached his apartment, he had spoken to nine members, making a note of their names so Fong and Xu wouldn’t revisit them. All nine had obviously heard about Gao, but none of them had heard about the election until he told them. He got two commitments for Ren and two more seemed to be leaning in that direction. It would have been discouraging, if not for the fact that no one came right out in support of Ma.

  It was dark by the time Chow walked into his apartment. He turned on the lights, hung up his jacket, took a beer from fridge, and settled into his chair. He reached for the phone to call Xu, then remembered that he still needed to contact Chi. He dialed Gao’s home number, and this time Chi was there.

  “I hope this isn’t inconveniencing you,” Chow said. “If it is, you can call me back.”

  “No, I’m glad to hear from you. It’s been a long and stressful day. We spent most of it at the funeral home making arrangements. The people there have been terrific, but my mother is a mess and needs a lot of my attention, so I wasn’t completely focused.”

  “That’s understandable,” Chow said. “I’m actually calling to see if I can be of any help tomorrow and Saturday. I can be at the funeral home anytime you want, and I’ll do whatever you think is appropriate.”

  “I’d like that. My mother hardly knows anyone who my father did business with, and I only know locals — people like you. It would be great if you could stand at the door and make sure my mother and I know who we’re meeting.”

  “I’ll be pleased to do that. Mrs. Hop said the wake starts at noon. What time should I be there?”

  “Eleven should be fine,” Chi said. “And Uncle, do you have any idea how many people might be attending?”

  “You’re going to have a large turnout. Certainly all of our gang, and we’ve been told to expect up to ten Mountain Masters and other senior officers from gangs in Hong Kong and the Territories. Then, of course, there will be the rest of your family and your father and mother’s friends. So it could easily be two hundred people, maybe closer to three hundred.”

  “Then we’ll need your help even more than I anticipated.”

  “You have it. My time is yours for the next two days,” Chow said. “See you in the morning.”

  He debated between calling Fong or Xu next, and opted for his assistant because there was a greater chance he’d be home. When Xu’s wife answered the phone, he heard voices in the background. “It’s Chow. Am I interrupting your dinner?” he said.

  “Not at all, we just finished,” she said. “Let me pass the phone to Xu.”

  Xu came on the line. “Hey, I’ve been trying to reach you. I was going to invite you to dinner. Fong is here.”

  “I went to see Tian and then I walked home from his apartment, stopping along the way to tell some brothers about the election. I have a list of the ones I spoke to, which you can share with Fong.”

  “How did it go?”

  “So-so.”

  “With Tian or the brothers?”

  “The brothers. Tian was quite negative about Ren.”

  “That’s not surprising,” Xu said. “They used to be rivals.”

  “When?”

  “Before you came to Fanling. When Gao became Mou
ntain Master, there was talk that Tian would be named his deputy, or at least Vanguard. Instead he was left on the street as an assistant to the Red Pole.”

  “I never knew that. In all the time I’ve known Tian, he’s never mentioned it or said anything negative about Gao, Ren, or Ma.”

  “That isn’t his style. He’s not one to complain.”

  “How was your day?” Chow asked.

  “Fong and I were just comparing notes. Our experiences with the guys we spoke to were much the same as yours, a bit of a mixed bag,” Xu said. “There’s a lot of sadness about Gao out there. He was really admired. I mean, I knew that, but I was surprised by the extent of it. Most of the guys were more eager to talk about him than the election.”

  “But they said they’re going to vote?”

  “Yes, but only after we convinced them there really is going to be an election, and that Pang is insisting that everyone participate,” Xu said. “Truthfully, most of them expected that Ma would be appointed, and I think some were disappointed that he wasn’t.”

  “I’m surprised that Ma has that kind of support.”

  “I’m not convinced he does. I think the brothers are supporting what they think is a tradition. I think they believe Ma has a right to the position,” Xu said.

  “So they’ll vote for Ma?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t ask anyone outright who they’d vote for, and no one volunteered that information. They were pretty tight-lipped —” Xu said, and then paused. “Just a second, Uncle, Fong is talking to me . . . He says there wasn’t much enthusiasm for Ren or Ma, but to be fair, no one openly criticized them either.”

  “How did Ren’s name enter those conversations?”

  “You told us not to actively promote him, so we didn’t, but when we were asked who the choices might be, we mentioned him and Ma.”

  “We might have to be a bit more aggressive, a bit more out in the open. But that should wait until after the funeral,” Chow said.

  “That doesn’t give us much time.”

  “It’s all we have, and we have to make our best use of it.”

  “Changing the subject, Uncle, have you heard from Wang?”

  “No.”

  “He called here about an hour ago, looking for you. He said if I talked to you to tell you to call him at home. He’ll be there until nine.”

  “I’ll do that right away,” Chow said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. I’ll see you tomorrow at the wake.”

  “What time are you going?”

  “Eleven. It doesn’t start until noon, but I told Chi I’d help the family greet the mourners.”

  “Would you like Fong and me to get there early as well?”

  “That might be a good idea,” Chow said, and hung up.

  He lit a Marlboro and took a deep drag. So far his election plan wasn’t working out exactly the way he’d hoped. Chow had thought he could persuade Wang and Tian to throw their support behind Ren, but while he might get Wang’s personal vote, Tian’s was up in the air, and neither of them was prepared to go out on a limb for Ren. He had also thought that when the men on the street realized they could vote for their Mountain Master, Ma wouldn’t be many people’s first choice. Maybe my approach is too subtle, he thought. Maybe I have to ask Wang and Tian to support Ren as a personal favour to me. Maybe we have to start pushing Ren as the best man for the job. But whatever he chose to do, he knew it would have to wait until Sunday.

  He reached for the phone again and called Wang.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon,” Wang said.

  “I was with Tian Longwei, and then I spent time with some of the brothers chatting about the election.”

  “Were you successful?”

  “It’s hard to say. I wasn’t asking people directly who they’d support.”

  “You didn’t ask Tian? He’s a friend. He wouldn’t have minded.”

  “I’d rather not get into what Tian and I discussed.”

  “Knowing how much Tian dislikes Ren, I’m not surprised that you don’t want to talk about it,” Wang said.

  “What I’d rather talk about is why you were trying to reach me,” Chow said, ignoring the gibe. “I assume it has something to do with what we talked about last night.”

  “It does. I made a lot of phone calls this morning. Then I drove to Sai Kun for lunch with their Red Pole, and then I swung over to Mong Kok for a short meeting with my counterpart there. They won’t tell anyone why I was meeting with them,” Wang said.

  “So the meetings were productive?”

  “Yes. The phone calls were a waste of time — all I got was the usual bullshit expressions of sympathy for our loss — but the meetings were worth the trip.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “Don’t get too excited,” Wang said. “I wasn’t told anything specific to the degree we want, but I did get independent confirmation that what your Hong Kong contact told you has some basis in fact. The word among the Mountain Masters is that Gao was knocked off and that there’s a gang that wants a piece of Fanling. No one is saying which gang that is and no one is asking too many questions. Because, frankly, they don’t give a fuck.”

  “But they at least agree that another gang was responsible for Gao’s death?”

  “Oh yeah, they’ll go that far. They even made it clear that it’s a gang near us, a ‘neighbour with ambition,’ as one of them put it.”

  “But no possible candidates, no conjecture?”

  “My friend in Mong Kok said that if we think about it hard enough we should be able to come up with enough of them on our own.”

  “It would have to be a bigger gang, so that excludes Fo Tan, Tsuen Wan, and Kam Tin.”

  “But that leaves Sha Tin, Tai Po, and maybe even Tai Wai,” Wang said.

  “Do you know anyone in those places you can trust?”

  “Trust to ask the type of questions that need to be asked? No, I don’t.”

  “Neither do I. And we can’t start stumbling around the same way we were afraid Ma might.”

  “Listen, Uncle, I was thinking about this on the drive back from Mong Kok. I’m beginning to believe there isn’t a hell of a lot we can do to prevent another gang making a move on us,” Wang said. “If they’ve made up their minds and are determined to follow through, who or what will stop them? Even if we find out who they are, what good will that do us if none of the other gangs want to get involved? We’re on our own.”

  “Do we have enough men to take on Sha Tin?”

  “No, and not Tai Po either. Tai Wai would be a more even match.”

  “So we just sit back and do nothing?”

  “We have a couple of days to say goodbye to Gao and do a bit more poking around,” Wang said. “I suggest we use the time to do some serious thinking as well. It could come down to two options: we negotiate or we fight. And if we negotiate, we’ll have to make some decisions about what we’re willing to give up. Come Monday, we’re going to have a new Mountain Master, and he’s going to need our advice. It would be nice if you and I were on the same page.”

  “That depends what page you’re on,” Chow said.

  “It’s a bit soon to talk about that. I’d like to know who we’re contending with before making up my mind.”

  Chow was disappointed with that answer and was about to say so when he caught himself. It was premature to start judging Wang. He needed to know on which side he’d fall before doing that. “So, as you said, we have a few days to figure that out.”

  “I’ll keep digging, and you find out what you can from your end.”

  “I will, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” Chow said, ending yet another less-than-satisfying conversation.

  Chow stood and walked to the window. He did not like it when things got muddled. He liked clarity, because clarity broug
ht certainty. He hated confusion and its disruption of his sense of order. He knew he couldn’t control everything in and around his life, but that had never stopped him from trying. The way he dressed, his daily congee breakfast, the trips to Happy Valley, his work schedule — they were his routines, all part of a structure he’d built that made him comfortable. Now someone was threatening him. Not threatening him personally, but by attacking the gang, they would start tearing down the structure he’d helped to build. And when one part fell away, what was to prevent everything else from crumbling along with it?

  The phone rang. It was only a few feet away, but he was mentally so far removed that it didn’t register until the third ring.

  “Wei,” he said.

  “Ma here.”

  Not again, Chow thought. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve been on the phone with Mountain Masters for most of the day. Nine have confirmed they’re coming to Fanling. Not all of them will be at the wake, but we’ll see them at the funeral. That’s a remarkable number, given the short notice,” he said. “Some of them grumbled about the fact that everything seems rushed, but I explained to them that while Gao insisted on a wake and a funeral, his wife wants it over as quickly as possible. This timing was the best compromise.”

  “I was wondering why it was happening so quickly.”

  “Well, that’s why. And then, of course, it’s better to hold it over the weekend, when more people can attend.”

  “I can see the logic in that,” Chow said. Before Ma could ask, he continued. “I confirmed the flowers and the bands. Then I spoke with Gao Chi about providing the family with some help. He was happy to accept the offer, so I’ll be at the funeral home for most of the day tomorrow and Saturday.”

  “That’s great. And did you speak to your people about the white envelopes?”

  “I thought that would be Pang’s job.”

  “He prefers that the senior officers deal with their own men.”

  “That’s not a problem. What amounts are recommended?” Chow asked. The money would go into white envelopes that would be given to the Gao family.