by Ian Hamilton
“Now you know why I like to eat at home,” Xu said.
“I have to confess, Auntie Grace, that if I didn’t already have a girlfriend, I might ask you to marry me.”
“You don’t have to do that to eat my food.” Auntie Grace laughed. “All you have to do is move to Shanghai.”
They were interrupted by Ava’s cellphone. Both she and Xu looked at it for a second before she picked it up.
“This is Feng.”
“Yes?”
“I’m at the office and I’ve just emailed the bank records.”
“Thanks. If I need anything else, I’ll call,” she said.
She turned to Xu. “That was Feng —” she began, only to be interrupted by another incoming call. She didn’t recognize the number but saw a familiar country code.
“This is Ava Lee. Is this Richard?”
“No, this is Michael Dillman at the Economic Herald.”
“Mr. Dillman, thank you so much for calling,” Ava said in a rush.
“Please call me Michael.”
“And I’m Ava.”
“I’ve just left Richard, and he explained your desire to communicate directly with us.”
“I thought it would save us all some time and eliminate any confusion.”
“I have to say I agree with you.”
“Great, but there’s one thing I’d like to make clear before we continue,” Ava said. “I don’t want to be named or quoted in any story.”
Dillman paused and then said carefully, “My understanding from Richard is that you’re the direct source for all of this.”
“I gathered the information and I’m prepared to verify that it is genuine, but I don’t want to become part of the story. I like to think that the information speaks for itself.”
“It is impressive. We are, of course, particularly taken with the possible involvement of Dennis Calhoun.”
“The deal he struck to create Mega Metals and the manner in which that company operates are as corrupt as it gets.”
“Apparently so.”
“You say that as if there is some doubt.”
“It’s one thing to believe something and another thing entirely to prove it.”
“You aren’t satisfied with the information you have?”
“Truthfully, I am, but I have a slew of editors and lawyers looking over my shoulder. As it stands, the paper isn’t prepared to run the story based on the facts we have on hand. That doesn’t mean they’re discounting it. They’ve simply told me to put the story on hold until we — and that means you, I guess — can provide them with more details.”
“What details?” Ava asked, trying to hide her disappointment.
“There are two problems as we see it,” Dillman said. “The first is that we have nothing that directly connects Tsai Lian or Dennis Calhoun to any of these business dealings, and in Tsai’s case proof of any links is especially lacking. He appears to own nothing. He’s a director of nothing. My editors would love evidence of how he uses his power and position to enrich himself and his family.”
“I can provide you with complete bank records instead of just summaries.”
“Will they directly implicate either of them?”
“No,” Ava said reluctantly. “They will only reconfirm that the family has extensive business holdings and that Calhoun put money into Mega Metals.”
“And that brings us to the second problem,” Dillman said. “It’s obvious that some of their dealings have to be a bit shady. But there’s no hook. What we need is something or someone to directly link Calhoun and Tsai Lian. We need a detailed understanding of how the corrupt practices — assuming they are as corrupt as you claim — actually take place.”
“I see.”
“Do you think it’s possible to uncover that kind of information?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ms. Lee, you sound a bit discouraged right now. I can only encourage you not to be,” Dillman said. “None of us here is impatient or negative. We think the story has enormous potential and I’d like nothing more than to write it. Dennis Calhoun is a loud-mouthed buffoon and I’d love to stick a pin in him, and your Mr. Tsai seems to be the worst sort of thief. But, as I said, I have editors and lawyers I have to convince. We need to give them what they want.”
“I understand.”
“Are you talking to any other newspapers?”
Ava hesitated. “One in the United States.”
“A serious one?”
“The Wall Street Tribune.”
“A very serious one. Good for you, and I’m sure they don’t give a rip about Calhoun.”
“But we really like the U.K. connection, and your paper has a reputation that can’t be easily dismissed.”
“You know, I met with Richard, who’s an old friend, out of courtesy, but the story intrigues me and I’d like to see it in print in our paper. You are correct about our reputation. We don’t publish anything without doing everything we can to ensure it is accurate. Everyone knows that. If you want to make an impact, then the combination of the Tribune and us will be hard to beat.”
“I don’t know if the Tribune is going to publish either.”
“Well, hang in there and keep digging. Contact me when you have something. You have my number now?”
“It’s on the screen.”
“That’s the best one to reach me at.”
Ava closed her eyes and sat back in her chair, the phone face down on the table. She took a deep breath, savouring the lingering aroma of duck. Then, quite abruptly, she sat forward.
“What’s going on? That didn’t sound very positive,” Xu said.
“They don’t think we’ve given them enough information to warrant publishing the story,” Ava said, and then related in detail Dillman’s misgivings.
Xu listened without saying a word or showing any emotion. When she finished, he said, “But you don’t know the Tribune’s reaction?”
“They’re still fact-checking, and God knows how long that will take.”
“And the Herald didn’t say no.”
“Unless we give them what they want, it is a no.”
“There are other British newspapers.”
“But this one is the best. Anything they publish is taken seriously,” she said. “I don’t want to give up on it.”
“Then we need to find the information they want.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking that maybe we can find someone inside the Tsai family business who can give us what we want, or at least point us in the right direction.”
“Like who?”
“I was thinking about that man Ling, the one who was with Tsai Men at Capo. Feng told me that Men treats him badly. Maybe, for a price, he’d be willing to help.”
“He certainly knows where the bodies are buried. He may not make decisions but he attends a lot of meetings, sees a lot of correspondence, and certainly manages the inflow of money.”
“So he knows things?”
“He certainly does.”
“That’s ideal, assuming of course that Feng wasn’t exaggerating his treatment by the family.”
“Feng doesn’t exaggerate, and I’ve seen Men humiliate Ling in public more than once.”
“Well?”
“It is risky. He could run directly to Men.”
“Do we have any other options?”
Xu pursed his lips and gently rolled his shoulders. “I need a smoke,” he said, and stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
His sudden departure caught Ava off guard. She was thinking about following him outside when Auntie Grace reappeared.
“Have you had enough to eat?” she asked.
“Yes, and it was wonderful.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
A
va was about to say no and then stopped. “I’d like a glass of Xu’s very expensive Scotch.”
“I’ll bring the bottle and two glasses,” Auntie Grace said.
Xu was gone longer than Ava thought one smoke should take, and she had sipped her way through half a glass of Scotch by the time he re-entered the kitchen.
He smiled as he sat down and poured himself a stiff shot. “I was thinking about Ling,” he said.
“Yes?”
“We’ll make an approach.”
“When? How?”
“Feng is calling him at home right now. It isn’t unusual for the two of them to meet. Feng will request that they meet early tomorrow morning somewhere neutral, and that isn’t unusual either. I’m going to send Suen with him. He won’t have anything to say but his presence will be enough to discourage Ling from acting rashly if he decides not to co-operate.”
“What are we offering him?”
“Money — lots and lots of money — and a promise that we’ll cover his back, keep our agreement secret, and act as a lifeboat for him if anything happens to the Tsai family.”
“I’d like to be there.”
“I thought about that, but it’s too soon. We don’t want to rattle Ling. He’s comfortable with Feng. Let the two of them try to reach an agreement,” Xu said.
( 33 )
She dreamt that she was with May Ling, Amanda, and Chi-Tze. They were by the sea, walking along a boardwalk near dusk. Ava realized they were back in Borneo, in Kota Kinabalu.
The boardwalk was nearly deserted but for a few women who were leaning over the guardrail and looking out at the beach. The sun was setting on their right and Ava held up a hand to shield her eyes from its glare. They were chatting and laughing when Ava saw a group of men walking towards them. They edged towards the railing to give them room to pass. The men moved in the same direction. Ava began to feel nervous but stayed on course, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
The men barged into May, knocking her into Amanda. They stopped and moved so they circled the women.
“Watch where you’re going, you fucking bitches,” one said.
There were six of them, all with thick arms and broad chests.
Amanda reached out to steady May. As she did, one of the men pushed her so hard she fell. Amanda began to cry, and then Chi-Tze took several steps back until she was pressed against the railing.
“I think you should leave these ladies alone,” a man’s calm voice said.
The men turned and Ava saw Uncle standing behind them. He was wearing his black suit and white shirt buttoned to the collar. He had a lit cigarette burning between his fingers.
“Fuck off, old man,” one of them said.
“I’ve chewed up more men like you than I can count,” Uncle said.
Two men moved towards him. Ava watched in horror as the larger of the two threw Uncle to the ground. She took a tentative step forward, then she saw both men standing over him with their feet poised to kick. She leapt at them.
Her attack was mindless frenzy. She had no sense of where she was, of who they were, of how many there were. She just wanted to destroy them. Her phoenix-eye fist drilled into eardrums, noses, throats. Her long, sharp nails gouged eyeballs. And when the men hit the ground, the pointed toe of her crocodile-leather high heels cut into their groins. There was blood everywhere, and the men were crying and moaning and begging her to stop. She was poised to finish them off when Uncle stepped in front of her.
“No more, my girl,” he said. “You’ve done enough.”
She looked down at the carpet of bodies. “I want to kill them.”
“I know, but we’re better than that.”
Ava woke with a start. Her mouth was dry but there was sweat on her upper lip and brow. She heard water running and thought of the sea she’d just left. She was in a small room, big enough for a double bed, a chair, and a dresser. Through the lead-paned window she could see the first signs of morning. She looked at the bedside clock and saw that it was just past seven thirty.
I’m in Xu’s house in the French Concession. It was only a dream, she thought. But what kind of dream was that? She couldn’t ever remember bak mei entering her nighttime wanderings in such a violent way. The ancient martial art — which she’d learned as a teenager on a one-to-one basis with Master Tang — wasn’t particularly acrobatic and was never pretty. It was designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain and damage by concentrating the entire body’s power into a small focused point such as the knuckle of the middle finger. She had used the art often, but always in self-defence, with the intention of incapacitating the enemy. This dream had been different.
Ava slid from the bed and kneeled by its side. She placed her hands in front of her face and began to pray. She prayed to Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. He was her last attachment to the Catholic Church, a church she had turned her back on when, in her mind, it had turned its back on her with its position on homosexuality. Still, she found comfort in prayer, and Saint Jude had been a constant and faithful companion over the years.
She stood and realized she was in her underwear and a T-shirt. She reached into her bag, took out her Adidas training pants, slipped them on, and left the room.
Auntie Grace was already up, standing over the stove. “Good morning, Ava. I’m making congee. Do you want some?”
“I’m still full from last night.”
“Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, please.”
“I only have instant.”
“Perfect,” Ava said. She turned her head towards the bathroom as she heard the taps being turned off. “Is that Xu?”
Auntie Grace filled a cup with water from the Thermos and put it on the table. “He’s been up for a couple of hours.”
“Is that normal?”
“He’s a morning person, but this was unusually early. He’s been on the phone with Feng.”
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Ava said, and sipped her coffee.
“I thought you might be. I heard the two of you talking last night.”
“And is Feng in the meeting we wanted him to have?”
“I think so.”
“What a nice way to start my day.”
“Ava, you are a very different kind of young woman.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“I wasn’t being critical. If anything, I’m jealous. I always wanted to be in control of my own life.”
“Auntie Grace,” Ava said with a laugh, “do you know how silly that sounds? Who has more control than you?”
“Only within these walls.”
“What else do you care about?”
“Truthfully, not much else,” the housekeeper said, pursing her lips. “If I were younger, it might be different.”
“Auntie, we can’t pick our time and place. We can only do the best we can with what we’ve been given.”
“Aren’t you philosophical this morning,” Xu said from the doorway.
Ava turned. Xu was dressed in a white shirt and black slacks, his wet hair glistening in the overhead lights.
“I had a bad dream,” Ava said. “I have them more often than I’d like, but they do make me think.”
Xu walked to the kitchen table with his phone in his hand, stopped, leaned over, and kissed Ava on the forehead. “Good morning, mei mei.”
“Good morning. Auntie Grace just told me that you’ve been up for hours.”
“Feng is with Ling. We’ve been going back and forth.”
Xu sat down. Almost instantly the housekeeper had a cup of tea and a bowl of congee in front of him. He took a sip of tea, then delicately put the tip of the spoon into the rice porridge and raised it to his lips. “This is wonderful,” he said.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Auntie Grace said.
He nodded, and smiled at Ava. �
��Ling is being co-operative.”
“Was it difficult?”
“Ask Feng yourself. He’s on my phone,” Xu said, handing it to her.
“I heard your question,” Feng said. “Ling leapt at the chance to stick it to the family. It cost us some money, but not as much as I expected.”
“That’s great.”
“We’ve been talking since six thirty. Ling has gone over our summaries of payments and cash movement and says they’re accurate. He confirmed that the fix was in on that Kitchen Giant purchase, and said that the Jiangsu Insurance deal was totally dependent on the province sending their business to the new company.”
“So the American insurance company knew what was going on?”
“They insisted on what went on.”
“Can he get us anything that would prove it?”
“He says he was copied on some emails that are pretty damning.”
“Did you ask to see them?”
“We’ll have them as soon as he gets to his office.”
“Do the emails implicate the Governor?”
“We won’t know until we see them, but I have to say that Ling has made no mention of him, and even when I press, he makes it clear that his dealings were strictly with Men and the rest of the family. Tsai Lian seems to have stayed well above the clouds.”
“That is still terrific work, Feng,” Ava said. “Now, how about Mega Metals?”
“He says he can’t help very much. He had no involvement.”
“Feng, that’s in some ways the most important deal to understand.”
“Sorry.”
“He knows absolutely nothing?”
“He can confirm the amount of money they’re making because he’s the one who goes in with Lau Ai to check the books, but he claims he knows nothing about the way the business actually operates. He says an English-Chinese guy, Vincent Yin, runs things.”
“He’s the one that Lau mentioned to me,” Ava said. “How about the way the deal was originally put together?”
“He says he was involved only in the early stages.”
“So who finalized things?”
“He thinks it was the Governor himself, with the Englishman.”
“He thinks?”