Fate

by Ian Hamilton

  “I’m giving fifty thousand dollars, Ren and Pang twenty-five thousand each. You, Wang, and Yu should give ten thousand dollars. Your men should give something between one thousand and five thousand, but nothing less than one thousand.”

  “I’ll let everyone know.”

  “Then that’s that,” Ma said, but he stayed on the line.

  “Is there something else?” Chow asked.

  “Yes. I was wondering,” Ma said slowly, “how close are you to Ren?”

  “I’m no closer to him than I am to you or Pang or Yu,” Chow said cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

  “When we had our meeting at the restaurant, I sensed that the two of you had already discussed this election thing.”

  “We hadn’t,” Chow said, surprised at Ma’s sensitivity.

  “He didn’t raise the subject with you?”

  “No. In fact, I didn’t even know about the possibility of having an election until it was mentioned to me.”

  “By whom?”

  “Tian,” Chow lied.

  “He’s been around long enough to remember when we had one.”

  “He has seen a lot.”

  “What else did Tian say?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he say he thinks there should be an election? And if he did, did he say why?”

  “He just said it’s in the rules. When I remembered that, I thought it might be a good idea to have one, for all the reasons I gave at the meeting,” Chow said. “Ma, I hope you don’t think my motivation was personally directed at you. I’ve never been critical of the job you did as Gao’s deputy, and I don’t doubt your ability to handle the top job.”

  “I didn’t think that was the case. I just thought it was odd that Ren supported your recommendation,” Ma said. “And then tonight I started to hear murmurings.”

  “Murmurings?”

  “I’ve been told that Ren wants to be Mountain Master and that there’s a quiet campaign underway to get support for him.”

  “Have you asked him if he’s interested?”

  “I don’t want to do that; he might misinterpret the question. I don’t want him to think I’m discouraging him or that I’m afraid he might run,” Ma said. “But I was thinking that you might have heard something.”

  “I’ve heard nothing,” Chow said.

  “Would you tell me if you did?”

  “I would be quite uncomfortable about getting into the middle of a contest between my Deputy Mountain Master and the Vanguard.”

  Ma paused, and Chow wondered if he’d offended him. Then Ma said, “I know that you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye on things, but I think you’re a bright guy with a terrific future. I expect I’ll be making a decision next week about who to appoint as my deputy. You should know that you are on my short list.”

  “That’s a real compliment,” Chow said, not believing for a second that anyone other than Yu or Pang would become Ma’s deputy.

  “But keep it to yourself.”

  “Of course.”

  “See you tomorrow. It will be an emotional day for all of us.”

  When the line went dead, Chow remained standing with the phone pressed against his ear for at least another five seconds. Then he noticed that his palms were sweaty and wiped them on his pants.

  Ma had rattled him. He’d never thought of him as being subtle, sensitive, or intuitive, but now he was starting to re­calibrate that opinion. The man he’d just spoken with was quite unlike the man he’d known for the past ten years. There had been none of his usual crudeness or bluster, which was even more remarkable given the fact that he might believe Ren was running against him. Not might believe, Chow thought. He does believe it. Someone hadn’t been careful enough in their promotion of Ren. He had no idea who, but once the lid was off that pot, it didn’t really matter. Ren needed to be told.

  Chow dialled his home number. “This is Chow Tung. I’d like to speak to Ren,” he said to the woman who answered.

  “He’s not here. He’s out at dinner and told us not to expect him back until late.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “No,” she said, in a manner that suggested he was rude to ask.

  “Could you please tell him I phoned. I’d appreciate it if he could call me back, regardless of the time.”

  “I’ll tell him,” she said.

  Chow sat in his chair and lit a cigarette. Three hours later he had smoked his way through half a pack, waiting for a call from Ren that never came.

  “Gui-San, I’m more sure than ever that I was rash. And that the hole I dug is a lot deeper than I first thought. I hope you said that prayer for me,” he said as he lifted himself out of the chair and headed for his bed.

  ( 13 )

  It was six-thirty when he left the apartment to walk to the congee restaurant. It had rained during the night, but the air was still heavy and Chow knew that the typical hot and humid Hong Kong summer was almost upon them. He stopped at the newsstand to get a copy of the Oriental Daily News and then remembered that he hadn’t bought it the day before. He asked the vendor if he still had a copy of yesterday’s paper. He did. Chow opened it and turned to the racing page. China Doll had won the fifth race at odds of three to one. The bet Chow had left with Sammy Wing would pay him $8,000. It was the kind of start he needed after the way the previous day had gone.

  His plan for the day was simple. Breakfast, followed by three hours at the office, and then the rest of the day at the Hop Sing Funeral Home. Since he hadn’t heard from Ren the night before, he assumed that the Vanguard had gotten back too late or hadn’t received his message. Chow was almost pleased that Ren hadn’t called, because it had given him time to rethink his conversation with Ma and put together a proposition for Ren. He would call him when he got to the office.

  Chow had congee with sausage, spring onions, and youtiao while he reviewed Sunday’s racing card at Happy Valley. Depending on how the next two days went, he realized it might be wiser for him to spend Sunday in Fanling rather than at the track, but he wouldn’t make that decision until he had to. There was no harm in being prepared for either eventuality.

  At seven-thirty he climbed the stairs to the offices and was met at the top by Xu. His assistant was wearing a grey suit, white shirt, and black tie. The only other time Chow had seen him in a suit was at his wedding.

  “Morning, Uncle,” Xu said. “I put the late-night receipts drop on your desk. I’m heading out to pick up the balance.”

  The door leading from the street to the office entrance had a mail slot cut into it. On the inside was a large metal box with a lock. Before Chow became White Paper Fan, the gang’s businesses had sent in their records every few days, and some even weekly. He instituted a daily drop and provided the mailbox so there could be no excuse for not doing it. The practice not only kept their records absolutely current, it limited the possibility that something unpleasant — such as thievery — would go undetected for any length of time.

  “I should still be here when you get back. I won’t leave for the funeral home until about ten,” Chow said.

  He waited until Xu had closed the outside door behind him and then walked to his office. He normally dove right into the paperwork, but that wasn’t his priority today. He picked up the phone.

  The woman who had answered Ren’s phone the night before did so again, but this time she asked Chow to wait while she got him.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Ren finally said after several minutes.

  “I phoned your house last night and left a message. I wanted you to call me back.”

  “I didn’t get any message. I got home very late and everyone was asleep,” Ren said. “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

  “I talked to Ma last night. He phoned to ask me about the funeral arrangements, and then he
switched gears.”

  “Ahh.”

  “Exactly. He wanted to know if you and I conspired to come up with the plan to hold an election. I told him no, but while he didn’t come right out and say he didn’t believe me, he might as well have,” Chow said. “Then he said he’d heard rumours that you want to become Mountain Master and are actively seeking votes. I told him I know nothing about that.”

  “I can’t say I’m shocked,” Ren said. “While your idea about being discreet sounded good, I thought it might not work.”

  “We were very careful. No one was overtly pushing your name.”

  “I believe you, but some of our guys gossip like girls. All it takes is for one of them to guess right and start blabbing. And guess what, it took only one day,” Ren said. “Also, Ma isn’t stupid and has a keen sense of self-preservation. When he chooses to pay attention, he can be very sensitive to what’s going on around him. This election obviously has his attention.”

  “Well, at this point I guess it doesn’t matter who said what or what Ma actually knows. We need to make a decision.”

  “About what?”

  “Whether or not you should come out in the open and formally declare.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Why not? The cat is as good as out of the bag anyway,” Chow said. “If people know you’re in the running then we can do some real campaigning for you.”

  “How did the lobbying go yesterday?”

  “Not bad.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Pang asked Fong and Xu to tell a list of brothers that an election is going to be held and that they’re expected to vote,” Chow said. “There was some confusion about why an election is needed, how it will be conducted, and who they can vote for. That took up a lot of their time.”

  “But once they got past that and things were made clear, who did the brothers indicate they were going to support?”

  “Many of them were noncommittal. But then, they don’t know that you’re actually in the game.”

  “Are you telling me you have no idea which direction this could go in?”

  “The way things stand, I guess I am. But if you declare, we’ll know very quickly.”

  “It sounds to me that you’re saying I could lose whether I declare or not.”

  “I think the sooner the men know you’re in the race, the better our chances.”

  “But you can’t guarantee I’ll win.”

  “Of course not, but I believe your chances will improve dramatically once the men know they have a strong alternative to Ma.”

  Ren became quiet. Chow waited, unsure of what he was thinking.

  “Let me ask you this,” Ren said finally. “As things stand, do you think it’s likely that Ma will win?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “That’s not an answer. That’s an evasion.”

  “Yes, it is, and I apologize,” Chow said, gathering his thoughts. “What I should have said is now that Ma suspects he has competition, he’ll bring persuasion and pressure to bear. And if he’s the only one out there really running and you’re still sitting on the sidelines, you’ll have to assume that he can pick up enough support to win.”

  “But if I get off the sidelines, there’s still no guarantee I’ll win.”

  “Correct.”

  “Then why in hell would I bother doing that?”

  “I thought you wanted to be Mountain Master.”

  “I do — more than you know — but at what cost? If I oppose him publicly and I lose, I’m going to be humiliated, I’ll have made an enemy of Ma, and my power is certain to be cut back,” Ren said. “One of the main reasons I went along with your idea was that I could stay in the background. Now, after only one fucking day, you want me to be out on centre stage.”

  “I think that may be necessary if you want to win.”

  “But, to repeat, it still isn’t a guarantee that I will win.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Tell me, Uncle, if I don’t declare, if I decide to stay on the sidelines, will you and your friends keep lobbying for me?”

  “Only if you want us to.”

  “You didn’t say that with much conviction.”

  “To be blunt, we seem to have as much — if not more — conviction than you do right now.”

  “That’s a fair comment,” Ren said with an abrupt laugh. “So, what this means is that I have a decision to make about whether I’m in or out. I’m going to have to think about it. And don’t worry; I know I don’t have a lot of time, so I won’t leave you dangling. But until I decide, why don’t you guys give it a rest.”

  “You’re right about not having a lot of time.”

  “I don’t mean to sound unappreciative; I know you’ve stuck your neck out for me,” Ren said. “And I promise you this, Uncle, if I’m in, I’ll go at it full bore. If I’m not, then I’ll simply tell Ma I’m supporting him and you can do the same.”

  “I hope you’re in.”

  “Right now, honestly, it’s a fifty-fifty proposition,” Ren said. “Now, what time are you going to the wake?”

  “It starts at noon, but I want to be there early to make sure our wreaths have arrived. And I’ll be there until it ends at five, because I promised to help Chi and his mother.”

  “I don’t imagine I’ll get there until midafternoon. By then I should have an answer for you.”

  Chow put down the phone with a thud. Ren might be more capable than Ma, but he was also more slippery. Whatever enthusiasm he’d originally had for Ren’s candidacy had almost evaporated. Tian’s opinion of Ren had made an impact, as had the fact that the rank and file didn’t seem that keen on him. On top of all that, the conversation they’d just had was deflating. If Ren’s condition for staying in the race was a guaranteed job without his having to make any effort, then maybe it was better if he didn’t run.

  That would leave Ma as Mountain Master, and if Chow’s recent talks with him were any indication, Ma had more respect for him than he’d previously thought. He didn’t believe that Ma would ever make him his deputy, but maybe, just maybe, he was prepared to be more open-minded where business was concerned.

  “Things may work out better than I thought. Gui-San must be praying for me,” Chow said quietly to himself as he took the first sheet of paper from the pile.

  ( 14 )

  When Chow arrived at the Hop Sing Funeral Home and Crematorium at five to eleven, there were already people milling about in the courtyard. It confirmed his expectations of how large the event was going to be.

  This was not his first visit to Hop Sing and he knew his way around the place. He walked through the courtyard and down the side of the building to a door marked “staff.” He opened it and was met by a small, grey-haired woman wearing a black pantsuit and a badge that read “mrs. hop.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hop. I’m Chow Tung. I’m not sure you remember me from previous visits, but I worked with Mr. Gao,” he said. “I’m here to check on our wreaths.”

  “I remember you now that I see you,” she said. “Your wreaths arrived at seven this morning. You shouldn’t have sent so many. With the others we’ve received, we’ve hardly any room for the mourners.”

  “Gao Lok was greatly respected.”

  “So I’m aware.”

  “Is the family here?”

  “They came at midnight and spent the night here in vigil.”

  “All of them?”

  “They took shifts.”

  “Where can I find them?”

  “The Iris Room, but we expect it will fill up very quickly, so we’re using an adjacent room as a place where people can wait.”

  “Can I go through? The family is expecting me. I’m going to be helping as a greeter.”

  “Go ahead. If we have as many people as I
think we’ll have, they’ll need you.”

  Chow went to the double doors with the name Iris stencilled in gold on each, and entered a long, narrow room. Gao’s open coffin was at the far end. It was surrounded by wreaths and flanked by a large formal photo. Chi sat to the left of it, near the shoulder of the coffin. Gao’s wife sat on the right. She and Chi were dressed completely in white, the traditional colour of mourning. A saffron-robed monk stood several metres behind her. Off to one side was another monk, wearing a black cone hat, black robes with silver trim, and a black-and-white pendant around his neck depicting yin and yang. Chow knew that the man in black was a Taoist and the man in saffron a Buddhist. Gao was covering all his bases. It was quiet inside the room just then, but once the public wake began, Chow knew the monks would start chanting from their respective scriptures.

  Two rows of chairs on the left were already occupied by various in-laws and other relatives. Like Chow, they were wearing a mixture of black and white. The walls were lined with wreaths, so many of them they were in double rows. At the foot of the coffin was an altar covered with white candles and burning incense. Chow walked to it, lit a joss stick, placed it between the palms of his hands, and bowed deeply to Gao’s photo. When the stick burned out, he put it in a receptacle that already had many in it, turned to Gao’s wife, and bowed three times. He then took a white envelope from his pocket and put it into the donations box.

  At a wake, mourners were not expected to speak to the bereaved family, but given the relationship between him and Chi and the role he was expected to play during the day, Chow approached Gao’s son. Chi nodded a welcome and then handed Chow a white armband. “We really appreciate your doing this.”

  “It’s going to be very busy here today. The courtyard is already full of people,” Chow said. “I think I should go to the entrance and help with organization.”

  “Thanks. We’ll see you later.”

  Mrs. Hop met Chow as he left the Iris Room. “I’m glad you’re doing this. The room is going to be crowded and there could be some shoving and pushing. You are better equipped to deal with it than my staff. Your people intimidate them.”