by Ian Hamilton
Tian was at his usual seat and waved as Chow came through the restaurant door. “Are you hungry?” he asked when Chow reached the table.
“Yes,” Chow said, noticing that Tian had a pot of tea in front of him. “No San Miguel today?”
“Not today — and probably not for quite a few days — but don’t let that stop you.”
“I’ve never had dinner here. What do you recommend?” Chow asked as he sat down.
“I like their dau miu, and they have good barbecued pork and duck.”
“I’ll have some of each, and a San Miguel.”
Tian called for the waiter and gave him the order. When the server left, he said, “That was a tremendous crowd today. Gao is getting one hell of a send-off.”
“Don’t you think he deserves it?”
“He deserves all of it. How many bands will there be tomorrow?”
“Seven, maybe more. But I think I told you that yesterday.”
“My memory isn’t what it used to be.”
“Bullshit.”
“Yeah, bullshit,” Tian said, and smiled. “I have something to tell you, but I’m still trying to organize my thoughts.”
“What could possibly require that amount of thinking?”
“Your friend Ren.”
“Ah, back to him again.”
“It wasn’t anything I planned. It was forced on me.”
“I’m listening,” Chow said, noticing that Tian had become serious.
“One of my men phoned me at home this morning, which I thought was a bit unusual. We talked some business — nothing special — until he asked me who I was going to vote for in the election,” Tian said. “I told him I didn’t know, and then he said Fong had paid him a visit yesterday and was indirectly promoting Ren. He said he’d thought about it and had decided he would vote for Ma.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“He said he doesn’t trust Ren.”
“Why not?”
“He’d received a call from an old friend who told him that Ren had dinner in Kowloon last night.”
“Since when is dining in Kowloon a problem?”
“It isn’t, but Ren wasn’t alone.”
“My dear Tian, I’m sure this is leading somewhere, but I do wish you’d get to the point instead of dragging it out.”
“Ren was having dinner with Tso Qiao.”
“The Mountain Master in Tai Po?”
“The very same,” Tian said. “You do know that Ren has roots in Tai Po.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Well, it’s true. And he and Tso have been friends for years.”
“I still don’t see why two old friends having dinner in Kowloon should be a concern.”
“Why would they meet in Kowloon? Why not in Tai Po or Fanling? It’s as if they didn’t want anyone to know.”
“You don’t think you’re reading too much into this?”
Tian leaned forward. “I think Ren was trying to enlist Tso’s help to become Mountain Master.”
“How could Tso help?”
“The Tai Po gang has connections in Fanling that Tso could call on. And if he did and Ren won, then he’d be indebted to Tso, and that would mean we’d be indebted to Tai Po. I can’t think of anything good coming from that,” he said. “Gao was always careful to keep Tso at arm’s length, and he had his reasons.”
“I heard Gao recite those reasons more than once,” Chow said.
“Was Gao wrong or misdirected?”
“I never thought he was.”
“If he wasn’t, what has changed that justifies Ren’s cozying up to Tso?”
The server brought Chow’s beer and a plate of barbecued pork. Chow waited until he’d left before saying, “Is your concern based solely on your belief that Ren is seeking Tso’s help to get himself elected?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“I imagine it might be if Ren were actually running. But he isn’t.”
“You told me yesterday that he is.”
“He changed his mind this afternoon. He even told Ma he has his full support.”
“Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“Then why did Ren meet with Tso in Kowloon?”
“I don’t know, and neither do you. So let’s keep this conspiracy theory of yours strictly between us.”
Tian shook his head. “He really withdrew?”
“He did. Now let’s enjoy our dinner and not spend any more time worrying about Ren and Tso.”
As the men ate, their conversation dwindled. Chow thought Tian looked dejected, as if disappointed that his suspicions about Ren had been wrong. For his part, Chow looked calmer than he felt. Tian’s last question had hit a nerve. Why had Ren met with Tso in Kowloon? There were probably many good reasons, and a long friendship was a perfectly reasonable explanation. But what if Ren had met with Tso to talk about the election? No, Chow thought, it makes no sense. Why would he do that and then withdraw?
Chow and Tian shared a taxi again, but this time after dropping off his friend, Chow rode it home. It was still early; he thought about calling Xu, then discarded the idea. He didn’t feel like reliving the day, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about Ren.
Why did Ren meet with Tso in Kowloon? The question just wouldn’t let go. The one sure way to get some kind of answer was to call Ren and ask him, but that would be an awkward conversation. How could he frame the question without it sounding like an accusation? How could he even raise the issue without it looking like he was spying on Ren or poking his nose into matters that didn’t concern him? And even if he could find a way to ask the question and Ren gave him an answer, how in hell could he verify it? And verify what? I’m getting as paranoid as Tian.
There was one thing he could do, he thought, and without reflection reached for the phone.
“This is Uncle,” he said when his call was answered. “I’m sorry to call you at home, but I was wondering how you felt the day went, and if you had any thoughts about tomorrow.”
“It was a good day. The other Mountain Masters were impressed with the turnout and the way things were organized,” Ma said. “If we have that many people tomorrow and all the bands show up and the Mountain Masters who’ve told me they’re coming do, it will be even better.”
“I think tomorrow will do well by Gao,” Chow said. Then he paused.
“Is there something else you want to tell me?” Ma asked. “Is there a problem with the bands?”
“No, but I’ve been thinking all day about our talk last night, specifically the rumours you heard about Ren manoeuvring to become Mountain Master,” Chow said. “I made a point of speaking to him today and asked him directly if he’s angling for the job. He told me he isn’t, and I have no reason not to believe him.”
“You didn’t have to do that, but I am glad you took my concerns seriously instead of thinking I was just being insecure,” Ma said. “I spoke to him as well — or I should say he spoke to me. Without any prompting, he told me he’d heard the same rumour and wanted me to know I have his full support.”
“I’m glad that’s been put to rest.”
“Me too. Now all that’s left is to put Gao to rest, and then to start a new chapter in the history of the gang.”
Chow put down the phone, lit a cigarette, and slid into his chair. As trivial as it might seem, knowing for certain that Ren had pledged his support to Ma took the edge of Chow’s unease. Ma was correct; it was time to start a new chapter.
( 16 )
As it had been the day before, the Hop Sing Funeral Home was a busy place when Chow got there at quarter to eleven on Saturday morning. The courtyard was almost full and there were people congregating on the street, mingling with clusters of uniformed band members. Chow walked among the bands until he found the three h
e’d hired. He asked them how they planned to organize themselves and was told to leave things in their hands. The bands all knew each other and had worked together before, although not with so many at one time.
“This was an important guy, huh?” one of the band leaders said.
“He was a Mountain Master — he ran the triads here in Fanling. There will be a lot of other senior triads here today,” Chow said.
“We’d better play well then, with no fuck-ups.”
“Not fucking up is a very good plan,” Chow said.
Fong and Xu were waiting for him in the courtyard. He hadn’t spoken to either of them since the day before, and he expected questions about his dinner with Tian, but after greeting him, all Xu said was, “It is going to be crazy today.”
“I know. I’ll find out from Mrs. Hop how many chairs they’re setting up inside. The Iris Room can be opened up to accommodate more than two hundred people. We should probably start forming lines now, so that when the doors open, people can enter in an orderly way. It will also make it easier to count them. We don’t want to let in more than she thinks the home can handle.”
“We’ll get started,” Xu said.
Chow climbed the steps to the front door. It opened before he got there and he saw Chi standing in the entrance.
“It looks like another huge crowd,” Chi said.
“There will be more people than yesterday. You can count on most of our gang and a lot of senior people from the Hong Kong, Kowloon, and Territorial gangs. I hope they don’t overwhelm your mother. Yesterday she looked uncomfortable with Kang and Jen.”
“She’s still in shock.”
“Who can blame her? Your father’s passing was so sudden and unexpected.”
“The girlfriend didn’t help either,” Chi said. “She knew about her, of course, but it’s hard for Mom to accept that the girlfriend was the last person to see my father alive.”
“The Mountain Masters who come will want to pay their respects to her. Will that be okay?” Chow asked, not wanting to pursue the topic of the girlfriend.
“Yes. She’s not as sensitive as she appeared yesterday. In fact, when I was young and my father was the Red Pole, we had gang members coming and going from the house all the time. She used to make them tea,” he said, and smiled. “That changed when I became a Blue Lantern. She wouldn’t allow any talk about the gang in the house, and she told my father that his friends were no longer welcome. She never changed that attitude, not even after I quit.”
“What about the rest of your family, and the family friends? Will they be comfortable sitting among a sea of triads?”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. They’re mostly here to support my mother. Triads don’t mean anything to them.”
Chow pointed to the Iris Room. “How many seats are inside?”
“I counted them when I got here this morning. There are 260 in the room itself and they can put another sixty in the anteroom.”
“Are there reserved seats?”
“We’ve put aside seats on the right for the family, and part of the front row on the left is for some close friends.”
“Do you think you could reserve about twenty seats for some of your father’s senior associates?”
“Of course. I’ll ask Mrs. Hop to do that.”
“If the service starts at noon, what time do you expect it will end?” Chow asked.
“We’ll greet people for two hours. The service will last for another hour, and then we’ll walk to the cemetery from here. It’s less than a kilometre away. We’ve arranged for monks to be at the gravesite for three-thirty. I figured it might take us half an hour to get out of here and up the hill.”
“It might take longer than that. There are nine bands outside.”
“Was it necessary to have so many?”
“It wasn’t deliberate. People simply want to show their respect. And you know what some of the gangs are like — if one hires a band, the others feel they have to as well. And in this case, Ma told me to get three.”
“That sounds like Ma. He always went overboard where my father was concerned,” Chi said. “Well, I’d better warn my mother about the bands, and I’ll talk to Mrs. Hop about the reserved seating.”
Chow returned to the courtyard. A long line had already formed and the men were waiting politely. “Nice job,” he said to Xu.
“Thanks,” Xu said. “And you should know that Wang is here. He’s at the back of the line.”
Chow went to meet him. “You don’t have to stand in line,” he said when he reached him. “You can wait inside in the anteroom.”
“I’ll stay in line. I have men here; it’s good for them to see us all treated the same.”
“Will they object to your having a reserved seat?”
“No. This is sufficient as a show of solidarity.”
Chow paused, wondering for a few seconds if he should mention his dinner with Tian, but then he saw that quite a few sets of eyes and ears were turned in their direction. “I’ll see you inside,” he said.
The doors opened promptly at noon and people began to file into the Iris Room. As they had at the wake, they burned joss paper, bowed to the coffin and the family, and in a few cases spoke to Mrs. Gao and Chi. But after paying their respects, this time everyone stayed. When the coffin left the funeral home for the journey to the cemetery, most of them would follow it on foot. The line moved steadily, and Chow was sure that by two o’clock everyone who had come would have had a chance to pay their respects.
Chow stood by the entrance for the entire time. Wang was the first senior triad he greeted, quickly followed by Yu, Ren, and Pang. Around one o’clock, the Mountain Masters began to arrive. Chin, the Wanchai boss, was the first; he had brought Sammy Wing and his Red Pole with him. Jen and Kang again came together. Tse from Happy Valley, Yin from Kowloon, La from Central, Tso from Tai Po, Go from Sai Kung, and Tong from Tuen Mun all arrived with one or more men, and the seats that had been reserved for the triad leaders were quickly filled.
Conspicuously absent was Ma. At one-fifteen, Chow approached Yu.
“Have you heard from Ma?”
“No. He should have been here by now. This doesn’t look good in front of the others.”
“I know. It’s become embarrassing,” Chow said. “I’m going to phone him.”
“Please,” Yu said, concern flitting across his face.
Chow made his way to the funeral home office. “I need to make a call,” he said to a young woman. She turned her phone towards him.
He dialed Ma’s number and waited. He didn’t hang up until the phone had rung ten times. His anxiety increasing, he left the office and hurried towards the entrance, where Xu was shepherding the last of the mourners into the building.
“Any sign of Ma?” he asked.
“No. Fong and I were just talking about him.”
“I just called his house and no one answered. Do you know where he lives?”
“Yes, it’s only a short cab ride from here.”
Chow looked out at the street. In front of the funeral home it was crowded with sixty or seventy band members, their instruments at the ready and their funeral banners fluttering in the light wind. On all sides of the home, cars were parked and double-parked; the only open path seemed to be a single lane that ran to the cemetery.
“We don’t have time to wait for a cab, and I don’t know how one would get here anyway. Run to his place and check on him.”
“It will take me as least twenty minutes to get there and back,” Xu said.
“Then you’d better get going.”
Xu nodded and sped from the courtyard.
“What’s going on?” Fong asked.
“No one has seen Ma. I’ve sent Xu to his house.”
“What the fuck do we do if he doesn’t get here in time for the funeral proce
ssion?”
“We’ll have the funeral procession without him.”
“We’ll look like idiots. The gang will look like shit.”
“This day isn’t about Ma.”
“If he doesn’t show, that’s all anyone is going to talk about.”
“He will be here,” Chow said. “When he arrives, hustle him right inside.”
Chow left the courtyard and re-entered the Iris Room. Yu looked at him questioningly. Chow shook his head and resumed his marshalling duties. Fifteen minutes later, after the last of the mourners had paid their respects to the Gao family, there was still no sign of Ma.
Chow approached Mrs. Hop. “There is no one else left to greet,” he said. “The bands have been waiting to warm up. Can I tell them to start?”
“I’ll talk to the family.”
He watched as she spoke with Chi, her head nodding constantly. When she returned, he wasn’t surprised when she said, “We’re a few minutes early but the family has agreed to start now. I’ll make the announcement.”
“I’ll let the bands know.”
“We’ll take the coffin through the side door. The bands should move to that side of the building. The road there leads directly to the cemetery.”
Fong was sitting on the entrance steps when Chow went outside. “We’ll be heading up to the cemetery in a few minutes. The bands have to move to the side of the building. I’m going to talk to them.”
“Still no fucking Ma, and Xu isn’t back yet,” Fong said.
“It is getting so late that it’s beginning not to matter,” Chow said, and then headed towards the bands.
His experience with funeral bands was limited to two other triad funerals, but those bands shared similarities with the nine in front of Hop Sing. They had between six and ten members, wearing a variety of uniforms that were primarily white and topped by a white peaked cap, and each band carried elaborate silk banners embroidered with couplets and sayings that praised and honoured the dead. Where the bands differed somewhat was in the instruments they played. Aside from a large bass drum, which they all had, the other instruments were an eclectic mix. The bands on the street in front of Hop Sing were carrying trumpets, French horns, flutes, trombones, clarinets, cymbals, and bells of various sizes. The mixture didn’t matter from a musical viewpoint because the bands were not there to make real music; they were there to make a noise intended to drive away ghosts and demons.