The Princeling of Nanjing

by Ian Hamilton

  “I could do it in close-up. If he’s sincere, it will come across that way.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Mr. Yin, when you’re reading, look up at the camera as much as you can. Don’t smile, but stare directly at me.”

  “Okay,” Yin said without any enthusiasm.

  “Now, before you begin, I have a couple of questions,” Ava said to Chan.

  “Go ahead.”

  “You do understand that everything that is said in here is confidential?”

  “Suen was quite clear about that.”

  “One more thing. He’s going to read in English. Is that a problem?”

  “I don’t speak English, but I’m filming, not translating.”

  “Then let’s get started.”

  Despite Chan’s professionalism and Yin’s willingness, it took more than an hour before they had a reading that satisfied Ava. Yin was understandably nervous at the beginning and flubbed words. Then he read too quickly, and then too slowly. Ava stopped him before he got too far along, so they didn’t waste too much time with each try, but the attempts added up. Finally he got through one that was passable, and that seemed to give him confidence. His final effort even had Chan nodding in approval.

  “Very nice work,” Ava said to Yin, and then turned to Chan. “Let’s go outside.”

  Suen was slumped over in his chair. He looked like he was napping, but the second they drew near he sat bolt upright, looking alert.

  “Who’s paying Mr. Chan?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “Give him a nice bonus.”

  “Sure.”

  She handed Chan a slip of paper with her email address on it. “Could you send that video to me right now?”

  “Sure,” he said, and a moment later added, “Done.”

  “If there are any problems, how do I contact you?”

  “Suen knows how to reach me.”

  “Thank you for your help,” Ava said and turned to Suen. “I need to use a computer for a few minutes.”

  “Follow me.”

  He led her upstairs to an office occupied by Xing. “Ava needs to use your computer for a few moments,” Suen said to him.

  Xing nodded and got up from the desk. She took his chair, accessed her email, opened the video, and watched it. Yin seemed calm and credible. It couldn’t have gone much better, Ava thought as she sent it to Michael Dillman.

  When she returned to the boardroom, Yin was in his seat with his head resting on the table.

  “You were wonderful,” Ava said to him.

  He looked at her, and she saw he was pleased by the compliment. “It was exhausting.”

  “But worth the effort to get it right.”

  “If you say so.”

  Ava reached for her phone and called Michael Dillman.

  He answered before the first ring ended.

  “Hello, Michael. I just emailed you a video of Vincent Yin talking about Mega Metals and Dennis Calhoun. Mr. Yin has been very co-operative. Take a look at what he has to say and get back to me as soon as you can,” Ava said.

  “We’re anxious to see what you have.”

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  “My editor, Tamara Klinger, and our in-house lawyer, Charlotte Field.”

  “I think they should both be satisfied with the content.”

  “Nevertheless, do you think an interview is possible?”

  “Watch the video. If you still think an interview is necessary, I’ll do what I can to make it happen.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you in a while.”

  As Ava ended the call, she could see that Yin had been following her conversation. “That was a journalist in London,” she said. “I should warn you that his newspaper will probably want to interview you.”

  “I don’t like that idea.”

  “I don’t either, but it may come to that. And if it does, we need you to be credible.”

  “Are you saying I’m not?”

  “No, I believe you, I believe you entirely, but for sure one of the questions a journalist will ask is why you decided to make this information public. You need to have an answer other than that I lured you into a meeting under false pretenses,” Ava said and then paused. “And Vincent, let me be clear, if you ever tried to say anything like that I would not be pleased.”

  “How about if I say my conscience was bothering me?” he said, ignoring her veiled threat.

  “Why did it kick in after five years of making huge amounts of money?”

  “Maybe it was gradual.”

  “That could be, but it’s still kind of weak,” Ava said. “What are your politics?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the U.K., are you or your parents Conservatives?”

  “We’re not affiliated with any party.”

  “Well, that just changed,” Ava said. “You just became lifelong supporters of the Labour Party.”

  “What?”

  “That is your motive. You became upset when Calhoun used his success in China to become chairman of the Conservative Party. Did you know he was chairman?”

  “Yes.”

  “And as chairman he used Mega Metals to promote the party and himself. Did you know that he has been advertising himself as the man who set the standard for how to do business with the Chinese? He’s led trade missions here. The party is running seminars for British businessmen using Calhoun as a model to emulate.”

  “That I didn’t know.”

  “It made you angry. It got to the point where you couldn’t stomach the lies and the hypocrisy anymore and decided the British people deserved to know the truth.”

  “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “You could be a hero,” she said, ignoring his question. “A martyr, willing to sacrifice personal financial gain in order to guard the integrity of the British political system.”

  “Good god, that’s a stretch.”

  “But it is one that might play, as long as you don’t say anything about being a martyr or personal sacrifices. Let the people make the inference. One thing is certain: it would provide you with an extra layer of protection, and you’re going to need it. Once the Tsai family and Calhoun know that you’re speaking to the media, they’ll do whatever they can to shut you up — and they have the capacity to do a great many things.”

  “Do you think being identified in a newspaper can help shield me?”

  “Somewhat.”

  Yin stood and walked back to the window. Ava gave him time to let his new reality sink in. He was still looking out the window when finally he said, “If you’re right about the newspapers running those stories, then I have to get out of China as soon as I can.”

  “I know. We’ll try to get you out tonight, or at the latest tomorrow.”

  “But I have so many things here — my condo, furniture, bank accounts.”

  “I’m sure you can make all kinds of arrangements from London or Newcastle or wherever, and what you can’t do yourself, we’ll look after. You won’t lose a dollar, Vincent, I promise you that.”

  “I should contact my office,” he said abruptly.

  “Why?”

  “It’s been hours since I texted them. I’ve never been out of touch that long. I don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”

  She took his phone from her bag and turned it on. “Come here,” she said.

  When he reached the table, she handed him the phone. “Put in your password and then sit next to me so I can see what you’re looking at and what you’re sending.”

  He sat down and punched in the code. When the phone activated, he tapped in a number and accessed his email. Ava could see there were more than twenty messages, but none were from Calhoun or one of the Tsais, and none looked especially urgent.

 
“It doesn’t look as though they miss you,” Ava said.

  “The company is well run. That’s how it should be,” he said.

  “Send them a text anyway,” Ava said. “Say that you have a dinner meeting tonight and that you won’t be in the office until later tomorrow morning. Then tell them you won’t get back to the office today and you have an early morning meeting tomorrow. That should buy us some time.”

  She watched as he did what she asked.

  When it was done, he passed her the phone. “How long do we have to wait to hear from the lawyer or the Brits?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe an hour or so.”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Me too, but why don’t I call the U.K. first and see what the paper wants to do.”

  “All right.”

  She phoned Dillman. He wasn’t as quick to pick up, and he sounded out of breath when he did.

  “I just came out of a meeting with the editor and the lawyer, going over the video,” he said. “I left my phone at my desk and had to run to get it.”

  “What’s the consensus?”

  “The lawyer just arrived and we’ve had only one viewing. They want to watch it again and then chat. Can I call you back?”

  “Sure.”

  Ava ended the call and shook her head. “I’ll send someone to get food. What do you feel like?”

  “Anything.”

  Ava opened the boardroom door. “Suen, could you ask Xing to fetch some food? Fried noodles, steamed vegetables, some barbecued pork or duck, and rice should be enough.”

  “How much longer are we going to be here?” he asked.

  “I won’t know until London calls me back.”

  “Then I’ll get some food for myself too.”

  Yin was at the window again when Ava returned. She sat at the table and took out her phone. There was a flurry of text messages among Amanda, Chi-Tze, Gillian, and May Ling. Chi-Tze and Gillian had been in conversation with Laura Deng at Lane Crawford that morning in an attempt to finalize the arrangements for the PÖ line. They hadn’t been successful, primarily because Deng said she wasn’t prepared to budge on the exclusivity demand. There were a few other minor points about promotional money and discounts, but the girls thought those could be sorted out.

  The texts were initially being sent by Chi-Tze and Gillian to Amanda, who then brought May and Ava into the loop. It was clear the girls thought they should give in to Laura Deng, but they didn’t want to do it without May and Ava’s approval. Ava grimaced. There was nothing wrong with the proposal except for the fact that it put May in a very difficult and unfair position. If they said no, then the deal might fall apart. If they said yes, May ran the risk of alienating some friends and business associates.

  Ava phoned Amanda.

  “Hey, I was hoping you’d call,” Amanda answered.

  “Look, I’m tied up in meetings and I’ve asked May to take over for me when it comes to Lane Crawford. You and she can make the decisions. I’ll go along with whatever you decide.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine, but go and talk to May, okay?” Ava said. “Just one thing, don’t let her be so completely unselfish. You know that she personally persuaded about thirty people to be at the launch. If we do the deal, she’s going to have to tell those of them who are interested in doing something with PÖ that they’re out of luck and they wasted their time going to Shanghai. I don’t want her to lose any friends over this.”

  “She also understands what a phenomenal opportunity Lane Crawford is offering us. A month ago we would have walked on nails and chewed glass if we thought it would help us get a deal like this.”

  “I know, but no deal is worth losing friends over. So Amanda, please, find a way to make this work.”

  There was a knock at the boardroom door. Xing walked in carrying two large paper bags. Suen followed.

  “I have to go,” Ava said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Suen sat at the table and watched as Xing emptied the bags. The four of them ate without speaking. Then Xing said to Yin, “And what is it that you do?”

  Ava laughed at how casual the question was. It was as if her commandeering his boardroom and bringing in a videographer were everyday occurrences. There was something about eating dinner among the Chinese that fostered sociability and broke down cultural and economic barriers. Countless times she had seen her mother start a conversation with someone sitting at the next table in restaurants all over the world. Invariably, by the time dinner was over her mother would know most of their life story. Ava wasn’t going to let that happen with Xing and Yin.

  “Mr. Xing, our guest has been talking all afternoon. Perhaps we should give him a rest,” she said.

  They went back to eating in silence. Xing and Yin put down their chopsticks first, but Ava and Suen kept going, the big man glancing sideways at her, showing surprise at her appetite. They were finishing the last of the noodles when her phone rang. She saw Dillman’s number on the screen.

  “Suen, I think that you and Xing should leave now,” she said. “I have to take this call.”

  Xing began to clean up, and Ava was about to tell him not to bother when Suen caught her eye. “Let him help,” he said.

  “Michael, it’s me. I’ll be right with you,” Ava said, and then sat back until the paper plates and cartons were all packed up and Suen and Xing had left the room. “Okay, I can talk now.”

  “That was the longest short wait of my life,” Dillman blurted.

  “Why, what’s going on?”

  “That video has caused a bloody sensation.”

  “I was hoping it would have a positive reaction.”

  “Tamara and Charlotte have watched it four times now.”

  “And?”

  “We need to interview Vincent Yin.”

  “We have some conditions,” Ava said.

  “Such as?”

  “The timing of the story’s release will be important to him.”

  “You want to know when the story will run?”

  “We’ll need a bit more information than that.”

  “Such as?”

  “Am I wrong in assuming that you will want to interview Vincent so you can confirm that he did record the video and that it is an accurate rendering?”

  “That’s part of it, but we’ll also want to make sure that Vincent is who he says he is.”

  “Of course, and I’m expecting that when his bona fides are established, you will approach Dennis Calhoun to get his side of the story.”

  “Of course.”

  “We have to know precisely when you intend to contact Calhoun.”

  “Why?”

  “We have to get Vincent out of China. In fact, ideally, we should have him physically back in England before you call Calhoun. Because when you do, you can bet that the first phone call Calhoun makes will be to Tsai Men or Tsai Lian, and the first thing they’ll do is try to find Vincent. If he’s in China, they’ll probably be able to do just that,” Ava said. “Whistleblowers in the West are provided some level of protection by the law and public opinion. In the East, they end up in jail or dead and no one is around to object.”

  “It isn’t my decision to give you the kind of information you want. I’ll have to talk to our people here.”

  “Then put it to them.”

  “If they say no?”

  “Then tell them we’re going directly to Plan B.”

  “Which is?”

  “You’ll find out when we launch it,” Ava said. “The thing you need to stress is that we don’t have a lot of time. I want to hear back from you within the hour.”

  “I’m at the office and everyone I need to talk to is here. It won’t take that long.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Ava said.

  She put dow
n the phone and saw Vincent Yin staring at her.

  “You’re scaring me with all this talk about my safety,” he said.

  “Would you rather I lied?”

  “No.”

  “Good, because I would find it most difficult to do so under these circumstances.”

  “But what’s this Plan B?”

  “I have no idea,” Ava said.

  ( 40 )

  Ava sat quietly at the table, waiting for Dillman’s call. She looked out the window, trying to ignore Vincent Yin’s sudden hyperactivity. He paced around the table, sat for a few seconds, and then paced some more, all the while throwing anxious glances in her direction. Finally, she’d had enough.

  “Sit down and stay down,” she said. “Things are getting resolved and there’s not a damn thing all that pacing will accomplish.”

  He almost collapsed into his chair. “I was just thinking that it was only this morning that I got out of bed, showered, dressed, and left for work like I have done a thousand times before. Now look at me. Now look at the situation I’m in. My whole life has been turned upside down.”

  “Vincent, you’ve done a magnificent job up until now. We need you to stay brave,” Ava said.

  “The last thing I feel is brave,” he said.

  “Let me tell you what I’ve learned,” Ava said. “Life is completely random. None of us can truly control our fate, and those who think they can are always the biggest losers. The secret to having a long and happy life is to be prepared for anything and to be willing to roll with it.

  “Think about Calhoun. He’s the chairman of the Conservative Party. He’s making more money than he ever imagined possible,” she said and looked at her watch. “It’s just past breakfast time in England. He’s just eaten his bacon and eggs with potato scones. He is perhaps about to leave his mansion in Newcastle to travel down to London for a meeting with the party executive, and then maybe he has an early dinner with the prime minister. The PM might be asking him if he would consider accepting a cabinet position, and Calhoun is hesitating because, truthfully, what could possibly be better than the situation he’s in? I mean, he has everything. Do you think for an instant he imagines it could all disappear? Do you think he considers it even remotely possible that his entire life’s work, his reputation, and maybe a lot of his wealth might evaporate overnight?