Chapter Nine
George stood on the aft deck of his yacht, the Golden Orchid, and watched the helicopter fly off towards Hong Kong. Instinctively, he knew Richard was standing in the doorway behind, him. He could feel Richard’s stare, yet he remained looking north as he finished his phone call with Chief Inspector Thourson. He thought briefly about the extent of his empire. He thought how even with his considerable influence, he could barely help his son without using some form of deceit and bribery.
Richard knew better than to interrupt George, and stood, dutifully, behind him, his eyes boring deep into the nape of the man's neck. He may have lost the first battle, but he won the second and savored his minor victory. By making sure John remained immature, he had, indirectly, caused this situation to occur, he thought. Step two of his plan to divide and conquer the house of Choi had begun, literally, with a bang. True it wasn’t his doing and it had occurred on the opposite side of the Pacific, from where he intended things to begin, but the effects were the same. He was sure George’s next move would be to stash the son off in Macao where his associates would, after a respectable amount of time, cause a small accident. After all, why else would George have his son brought to the yacht and have it head south towards Macao?
“Richard.” George continued staring out to sea, towards north. “Where’s John?”
“He’s in his cabin below.”
“What condition is he in?” George turned to face Richard, saw the smirk on the man's face and ignored its animosity.
“The wounds weren't serious and have healed over these past six weeks. Mrs. Choi reported earlier that he is nearly fully recovered.”
*
John paced the length of his modest sized cabin. Nervously, he took quick, short drags on his cigarette. He despised being out at sea, disliked the yacht and its confining rooms. Unlike in the past when his father took care of things, he wasn't so sure he could take care of the mess this time. Still, the sanctuary of the yacht was better than jail, he reasoned.
Richard entered without knocking and met John's angry glance directly. He ignored the array of clothing scattered about. “Mr. Choi will see you now. I suggest you put out the cigarette.”
John looked at Richard and thought it would be wise to adhere to his suggestion this one time. He took one last long drag and exhaled it slowly. He checked how he looked in his new navy sports jacket in the mirror. “So Richard, what kind of mood is my father in today?”
“Does my opinion really matter? Your father wants you upstairs in the main cabin.”
John knew, Richard knew, and was ticked off that he wouldn’t tell him. “Richard, you've been waiting for this for a long time, haven't you?”
“Waiting?” Did John know or suspect? And George, before? Had he been careless?
“Never mind, let’s go see my father.” Irreverently, he pushed past Richard and took the forward staircase to the deck above. Hesitating near the top, he peered into the room with its white couches, teak wood bar, and end tables. Sensing the room was empty, he entered the cabin and stopped short halfway. Fear gripped him and his feet rooted like cement to the navy carpet. His pounding heart raced so quickly, he felt its beat in his throat. Thourson, a person he didn’t particularly want to meet, was talking to his father out on the aft deck. John watched Thourson take the briefcase his father offered. Although he saw the brief verbal exchange, he couldn't hear what they discussed, nor recall the last time he saw his father so contrite. Men were usually remorseful toward him. John didn't understand the silent warning he was allowed to witness.
Things look good, thought John. Thourson's been paid, we’re heading south towards Macao, and the usual guys are hanging about, hence, I’m safe, he thought. Feeling secure, John looked back toward the aft deck and caught the inspector's eye. The exchange of looks between John and Thourson was eased by his father’s intercession. Thourson, with furrowed brow, made a last comment to George. A comment John didn't like, for whatever it was, it registered as disgust on his father's face. The man said his farewell and prepared to leave via the helicopter on the topmost deck.
Good riddance, thought John. He tried to contemplate what punishment his father might dole out this time. He saw it in the expression his father wore. He knew that punishment indeed was coming, but he wasn’t too concerned. Dealing with father would be a cinch, he thought, just like the last time when he wrecked the car and wiped out the fisherman's shack. He figured he had about another three weeks before he could go back to Hong Kong. It shouldn't take longer than that for his father to cool down.
As the aft doors opened, sounds of the helicopter lifting off filled the otherwise stiffly quiet room. George entered, as did some of his men, who saw the arrogant fool standing casually as if his error was minor. They also recognized the silent storm brewing just below the surface of George's projected calmness and were grateful the anger wasn't for them. George was about to begin when a pretty lady emerged from the stairs below. She crossed the room, realized she had entered a meeting and quickly left for the aft deck, closing the sliding door behind her.
John watched her and thought how much he would enjoy taking her to his cabin, where he’d teach her a thing or two that he felt his old man couldn't. After all, from John's perspective, his father at the ripe age of fifty, appeared to be very old and was as stubborn as the Ox, the year in which he was born. He checked his watch, impatient with the delay. All he wanted right now was to hear the lecture, make his promises and be on his way. He tried to calculate how long it would be before the helicopter would return and he could take it to the gambling tables of Macao. Richard was right, he thought, a few days of gambling might help him loosen up a bit.
“She's beautiful, isn't she?” George walked across the cabin and took his favorite seat next to the control panel that both summoned people and controlled the lights.
John hadn't realized he had been staring at the girl so long. He turned and looked directly at his father, knowing he wasn't allowed to sit until his father granted permission. “Yes, father. She's quite a lovely addition to your art collection.” John saw his father signal the men to leave. When they did, he realized he was on far more dangerous ground than he anticipated.
George took time to contemplate the plan for John's salvation and knew it must be done regardless of the cost. “Have I been a good father?” George began.
“Yes, of course father. You’ve always been good to me.”
“I've tried to give you every advantage. Everything you wanted, I gave you. Haven't I?”
“Yes, father,” said John.
“Have I your respect?”
“How can you question that? I can't believe you doubt me. I absolutely respect you.”
“Good. I'm glad you respect me,” he paused to consider his next words carefully. “Perhaps you can tell me; why do you constantly disappoint me? Why? The one thing above all else, stay out of trouble with the authorities! I've told you repeatedly; avoid exposing the family to danger! Don't say a word!” George stood and although he was about the same height as John, his imposing nature made John tremble and feel as if the man towered over him. “I've heard all your excuses for your lifestyle and perhaps I've been too lenient with you. I've tried to help you. But, what do I get in return? What? All I get is a show of disrespect! Do you have any honor for your family name? Well? . . . Do you?” George’s voice penetrated deep into the core of John. Welcome to manhood, George thought with sorrow.
“I've honor father, I have honor,” John spoke emphatically.
“You really think so? I don’t think you know the meaning of the word.”
“What are you saying, old man?” John's voice trembled with a fear that comes when one leaves the familiar path and has chosen the wrong term.
“Old man? Old man? Yes, perhaps I'm old and have held a blind eye to your actions, but this time John, this time things went too far. You went too far!”
“Too far? How did I go too far? Why? Because I kil
led the son of a bitch!”
“How dare you talk about life so irreverently?”
“Oh, excuse me father, I forgot. You never killed anyone, have you? You just have some minion do the dirty work for you. Well I'm different! I take care of my own problems!” His words cut through layers of defensive walls striking just as swiftly as any crushing blow.
George sat back down, thought of the anger in his son, and saw his failure as a father. He knew Catherine had been correct, but that thought would be pondered and resolved later. Instead, he summoned from his core being, the courage needed to continue the path he had chosen. He knew it was the only one that would ever permit him to recover lost ground.
At last, George looked up into John's waiting eyes. “If a life must be taken, it is to save your life, or that of another. Death shouldn't be dealt so carelessly.”
“He was disrespectful and I did what I had to do.” John spoke harshly not caring.
“You're actions were irresponsible, without honor, or dignity. And what happened?” George stared hard at John. “What happened? How could you be so stupid?”
“It was Ze-Shan's fault! He left the room!”
“Ze-Shan? He is an honorable man who did his job. No, this time you cannot hide. This time, there were too many people to tell me what occurred. No! This time, the fault is squarely with you. A man stands up for his actions, to be judged by them. A boy tries to hide from the truth, and his actions, when he knows he has done wrong.
“I didn't do anything wrong! How many times must I tell you it was Ze-Sh-”
“You didn't? A man is dead! Two policemen were seriously injured in a tunnel crash! A man has been killed for no reason! For no reason at all! Why did you kill Harvey Chan? Why? Because he wouldn't show respect for your foolish display of power? What was your good reason? . . . Well?”
“There was reason father! . . . He . . . He umm . . . He insulted me. That's my reason!”
“And that's how you deal with an insult? Instead of man-to-man, you turn it into a street brawl. Such behavior I expect from common scum who don't know manners, or respect. But from you, I expect better. You deal with all your problems like a spineless snake. You attack with your physical self what the mind cannot bend! Foolish and stupid, that is what you have been. You were so stupid; you even managed to get shot by your own gun!”
“Get on with it, what are you saying?” John snarled, with little respect.
“No patience either? What's the rush? A girl or two in Kowloon, or is it Mee-Lee from Chai Wan this time. Or is it that the gambling tables are going strong and you’re itching to test your luck? With whose money are you gambling, and living your wasteful life?”
“Father, please.”
“Silence!” George spoke so forcibly that John backed away. “It's my money. The money of my father and his father that’s been accumulated! Do you think you're better then everyone? What work have you done that you feel entitled to everything? Well? I gave you a position, yet the only time anyone in the office sees you is on payday, or if you feel like chasing a new secretary.” George unleashed his wrath. He saw John rooted where he stood by the stairway railing with arms crossed defiantly. George knew that as stubborn as John was, he would get the message eventually. This display, however, was more for the men and the traitor.
“Work? Why should I work when we're rich? You did it, so that you can give something to the next generation. Right? Well, I'm that generation and it is my right; my right, as your son to have it all. Work every day like a common man? I'm not common, I'm your son! I'm better than the rest! People respect me, because I am your son!”
“But, people don’t respect you for the man you are. If you cannot earn respect from people for yourself as a man, than how will they respect you and do what is needed when I'm gone?”
“Father, I'm your only son and as your son, I get respect! Besides if not me, then who? My sister?” John spoke impertinently, with a chuckle. “A girl?”
“A woman, who has more honor among her peers and seniors than you, a man of little worth. No! Your brother would get everything.” There he said it. That wasn't so hard, was it?
“Brother,” John repeated with bewilderment. “Brother? I don't have a brother.” John spoke softer, and felt his heart racing in his throat. He silenced himself as he remembered the old stories. His anxiousness increased and he began trembling upon realizing the outer islands that mark the course from Hong Kong to Macao were gone and they were now traversing open seas. Things have gone far astray from the expected path. John turned his attention back to his father.
“Yes. Yes, my son.” George spoke calmly, measuring each word's effect, hoping they would be sharp enough to strike just the right jolt to return his son to reality. “You do have a brother. His name is James and he is a far more honorable man than you.”
“What?”
“James is one year older than you. Like you, he was given a position in my organization. James has shown his honor as a man and to me, by increasing the net worth of my business, giving honor to the family name, and by never requesting anything in return. You, however, have decreased the value of my holdings, the honor of my name and demand what is not yours! All this you do, because as my son you think it's your right!” He saw one of his ships coming into view on the far horizon and gave an order to one of his men, to send a launch, via the intercom.
“Who's coming father?”
“James, your brother.”
“Why didn't he just fly in on a plane like everyone else?” John snapped.
George accepted the terseness as to be expected. “Because unlike you, he does what is ordered and expected.”
“Why am I here? What are you telling me? Father?” John's voice trembled.
“That, even though I love you, you the son of my first wife, you can be replaced. In essence, this is to be your last chance, John.”
“What,” he stumbled with his words. “Last chance? Okay, sir . . . enough of the bullshit, speak your mind, Pop! I've got better things to do than stand around listening to this crap!”
“You still don't understand.” Choi paused, finding it hard to contain his anger, but the thought of James encouraged containment. He peered out the cabin window and watched his launch near the launch from the Cloud of Five Thunders, one of his ships that had sailed from Seattle. He was barely able to distinguish the meeting of the two long boats, yet they met. The transfer of a steamer trunk and a young man occurred, flawlessly, as expected. George wondered how one could bring so much joy and the other such disappointment.
“Well?”
“You haven't learned how to live life as a man and this saddens me.”
“How could I learn anything from you? You were never here. Your focus was business and the States! All you taught was that you didn't care, Richard even said so! He's been more a father to me than you!” John shouted. His face was turning a deeper red as the day's frustration wore upon him.
George looked calm to all those who dared look into the cabin at the scene unfolding. Inside his heart, he was deeply wounded with the confirmation of Richards’s level of influence. He stood and looked at John directly in the eye. “That’s a true statement and one that I will now amend. I gave you every opportunity a father could. But rejection was all I received. Yes, I felt rejected by you, John. Silence!” George's powerful voice rang out and John cowered in front of him. “At each turn, you showed dishonor for your family and your name! Hence, later this week, you will leave with your brother. You will go to America and find your identity as a man! This will be your last chance, the only chance you will have to regain my respect.”
“So that's it. Huh? Banishment to the States? That's my punishment?”
“Not quite. Your punishment will be that you must take on the identity of the man you killed. You are no longer a Choi. From today forwa- -”
“You can't be serious? Father?”
“I'm no longer your father, John Chan. I'm just your uncle from th
is day forward and you would do best not to forget that fact.”
John felt confused, and ran his hands through his hair. He did not notice the pitied expression his father displayed for him. He just felt betrayed and all alone in that moment of lingering silence.
“You can't be serious? I'm your son and belong here, not in some fucking foreign devil city. You've no right!” John was immediately, remorseful for his choice of words.
“I have no right!” George said with furrowed brow, his voice rising for the first time toward John's impudence. “Who do you think you're talking to? Do you forget that I'm master of the Golden Dragon Society! I decide your fate and the fate of whomever is within my world. I, decide! Don't forget that and don't think my reach is limited. Either heed what’s said today, or instead of learning honor from James, you will be banished to the worst place I can find.”
John, dumbfounded, lowered his head, and cowered before his father for lack of any other thought of what he should do. He felt like his world was spinning out of control. He’d never seen his father's wrath before. True he had heard of it, but he never witnessed its depth and nothing Richard taught, ever prepared him for this situation. He realized only now that it was too late, the precarious position he was in and stumbled to find the words. With head bowed, “I apologize if my wor- - acti- - I’m sorry if I have displeased you, father.”
Choi was moved by his son's anguished voice, but held fast his resolve. “If you can prove to me that you are a man worthy of my trust, then you can return.”
“And how am I to do that?”
“By learning to be honorable. Succeed and you get to return, perhaps, you will earn the right to be acknowledged as my son. If you cannot prove your honor to me, you will never be allowed back in Hong Kong.”
Fong entered the cabin with a tray and stood by George. He saw the wounded dragon cub, John, had been beaten. The temerarious fire may have been dampened, but John's fiery eyes showed it was still ablaze in his soul, waiting for tinder.
The Dragon Within His Shadow Page 6