The Two Sisters of Borneo

by Ian Hamilton

  The hearse appeared and eased towards the door. The funeral director came up behind them and then motioned to the white ribbons strung from the back of the vehicle. Each of them grasped one, connecting themselves to Uncle for his last journey.

  When they reached the street, the hearse had to stop while a path was cleared. The front courtyard was completely full, people spilling out onto the surrounding sidewalks and along the street for what had to be a hundred metres. Most of the guests were dressed in white or at least wore a white head covering of some kind.

  The bands were also strung out along the street, their banners fluttering in the wind. They had stopped playing when the hearse appeared. The crowd had also gone still. As the hearse inched its way into the street to begin the kilometre-long drive, Ava heard a familiar voice. She turned and saw May Ling and Changxing standing at the edge of the crowd, just outside the courtyard. Ava had been too absorbed to realize she hadn’t seen them inside.

  She held out her hand. They came to her, May leading, her husband just behind. “They wouldn’t let us inside,” May said, her face tear-streaked and her white silk blouse stained with black mascara. She held out her arms. Ava walked into them, still holding on to the white ribbon. They hugged almost ferociously.

  So began the longest funeral procession Fanling had ever seen, and the first funeral within the memory of Hong Kong or the New Territories with as many bands.

  The hearse began its ascent to Wo Hop Shek Cemetery. It was on a hillside, which was good feng shui — the higher the grave was located, the better the omens. Uncle’s was at the top.

  The guests marched in groups of about fifty, each followed by a band. The bands were playing at full volume, each in their own key. As discordant as it might have seemed, to Ava nothing could have more accurately reflected the range of emotions she was experiencing.

  They had gone no more than fifty metres when a man came up from behind and began walking alongside Ava, startling her. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m Xu,” he said.

  He was perhaps five foot ten, slim and elegant in a black suit, a white shirt, and a narrow white silk tie. He looked directly into her eyes. “Can I walk with you?” he said.

  The hearse was moving, pulling Ava along with it. She focused on keeping her balance. Xu reached for a white ribbon between her and May. May glanced sideways at him and then at Ava. She said something, but the music made it impossible for Ava to hear her.

  ( 35 )

  The procession took up half of the four-lane street that led to Wo Hop Shek Cemetery, leaving room for vehicles to travel in both directions on the other side. But the size and the noise of the funeral attracted so much attention that traffic halted; people got out of their cars to stand and watch. They were joined by onlookers from the surrounding apartment buildings. By the time the procession had reached the midway point, the entire street was gridlocked, with just enough room down the centre for the hearse and the people following it. Sonny held Uncle’s picture over his head as he walked, turning it this way and that towards the encroaching crowd. As he did, they bowed one by one.

  It took them more than an hour to walk the kilometre. Several times May Ling tried to speak to Ava, but the music made it impossible to be heard. Xu was to Ava’s right, his eyes locked onto the hearse.

  As the hearse cleared the cemetery gates, Ava could see the monks in the distance, a cluster of orange robes. Officials from the cemetery, a man from the funeral home, and the five monks met them at the top of the rise. The hearse pulled off to one side and the funeral director led Ava and the others to the gravesite. They stood hand in hand while the procession worked its way into the cemetery and up the hill, circling the grave in rows that ran ten deep. It took close to twenty minutes for everyone to arrive and settle down.

  Then they were all in place, and the only sound was the bands’ banners flapping in the wind. Uncle Fong spoke to the head monk and the last rites began.

  Ava had little experience with Taoism. She didn’t understand the significance of the chanting, accompanied by the striking of bells and small brass singing bowls. It was heart-rending all the same, and she found that her tears had returned. May Ling and Lourdes cried with her.

  When the monks finished, the hillside went eerily still. The funeral director nodded at Sonny and Sonny bowed his head. Four men from the funeral home went to the hearse and removed the coffin. Ava and the others turned their backs as it was carried to the grave and then lowered into the ground. Workmen slowly filled the hole. When it was almost done, Sonny tapped Ava lightly on the arm. She turned, picked up a handful of dirt, and threw it into the grave. Sonny, Uncle Fong, May Ling, Changxing, Lourdes, and Xu did the same.

  When the grave was completely covered, Sonny lit two candles and gave one to Ava. They placed them at the head of the grave. Three incense sticks were lit, and Lourdes, May Ling, and Xu each placed one at the foot of the grave.

  There was a heavy silence, and then the air erupted as firecrackers exploded all around them. Changxing smiled and said, “This is a good thing to do for a man from Wuhan.” As firecrackers continued to erupt, the crowd became less sombre and one of the bands began to play.

  Changxing stepped forward and took an orange from his pocket. He peeled it and placed it on the grave. From his other pocket he took out a Hong Kong thousand-dollar bill and put it next to the orange. Xu, Sonny, and Uncle Fong followed suit.

  Emerging from the circle of onlookers, Jack Yee and Marcus Lee approached the grave and repeated the ritual. Then others followed, slowly and respectfully. Ava watched as the entire grave became a carpet of orange. Then Sonny once again tapped her lightly on the elbow and said, “It’s time for us to go.”

  The crowd parted to let them pass. As they did, Ava heard Uncle’s name being spoken, and then her own name. They seemed to her to be intertwined.

  ( 36 )

  They began the return walk to the funeral home to change their clothes. Ava, Sonny, Uncle Fong, and Lourdes would give their funeral clothes to the director for burning. Ava would be putting on a white blouse; it was her intention to wear only white shirts, blouses, and T-shirts for the next month, following the tradition of mourning.

  May Ling walked next to Ava, the rest of the funeral party trailing behind. They had gone about half the distance when Xu appeared at Ava’s other side. This time she really looked at him. He was a bit taller than she had thought, close to six feet, and although he was slim, his body appeared wiry and athletic. His hair was cropped tight against his skull and he had a long, lean face, with a sharp chin and a rather pointed nose. His face would have been harsh if not for the large brown eyes that were full of concern.

  “Mei mei,” he said, “would you object if I kept in touch with you?”

  “And why would you want to do that?” she asked, surprised by his question, and by his use of the familiar term little sister.

  “We are united through Uncle,” he said.

  Eyes that had been almost soft now stared at her with a frankness that was intense. What do you want with me? she thought. “You know I have no interest in men?” she said.

  “I have heard that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “It makes no difference to me.”

  “And I never heard Uncle speak your name. I didn’t know you existed until three days ago.”

  “Uncle was a man who led several lives, and he knew how to keep them apart.”

  “Then it’s even stranger that my name would be mentioned and yours not.”

  Xu fell silent and Ava thought that their conversation had ended, but as they drew near the funeral home he said, “My father was from Wuhan.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “He went to Hong Kong one year after Uncle, and Uncle helped him start a new life. Sometime later my father went to Shanghai to begin his business, and Uncle supported
him, always supported him. There wasn’t a man in this world who my father trusted more than Uncle. I never met him until my father died, two years ago, when Uncle came to Shanghai and we connected. I was in the business then, and from time to time I would call Uncle to ask for advice.

  “Six months ago I decided that changes must be made. I had been thinking about it for a long time but it was finally taking shape in my mind. It was a complicated situation, even sensitive, and if I made a large mistake I could destroy everything my father had built. So I called Uncle and told him what I had decided to try, and he counselled me. It became my habit to call him every day and to see him in Shanghai or Hong Kong when matters became particularly pressing. Like my father, I trusted him; I trusted him completely.”

  “I understand how that could be.”

  “And as for Uncle, there was no one on earth that he trusted more than you.”

  “He loved me,” Ava said.

  “Yes, he did,” Xu said, touching her arm. “But his love had nothing to do with the trust he had in you. That came from the respect he had for your character. He was a dispassionate man: he had a remarkable ability to see people for exactly who they were. He told me — several times, many times — that if anything happened to him, I should keep you close.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “This thing I’m trying to do, the changes I’m trying to make . . . I need help.”

  “I don’t see how I could possibly be of any use to you.”

  “Ava, Uncle talked to me about the business you and Madam Wong are starting. He thought it might provide an avenue for us to assist each other.”

  “Now I really don’t understand.”

  “Mei mei, sometime in the near future, when things are settled here and when you and Madam Wong are ready to talk, I’d like you to visit Shanghai as my guests. I will explain to you then what I have in mind and how our interests intersect. I will be honest with you, completely honest. Uncle wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  They had reached the courtyard of the funeral home. “Go inside. I’ll join you in a minute,” Ava said to May and the others. “I didn’t thank you for what you did for me in Kota Kinabalu,” she said, turning back to Xu.

  “Uncle was responsible for that.”

  “You did it.”

  “For him as much as for you.”

  “Then tell me this, why did you send all those men? Why did you wreak such havoc? The moment Wan heard your name, he was terrified. Surely all you had to do was call him, contact him in some way. He would have released me, would he have not?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then why?”

  “I wanted to send a message, more to others than to him. I saw the opportunity and I took it. The timing was good and Wan was isolated. He has virtually no ties outside Borneo, no entanglements, no one who really cares if he lives or dies. So I could demonstrate my determination, my strength, and my loyalty to Uncle without having to worry about widespread repercussions.”

  “I’m not sure I should have heard that.”

  Xu pursed his lips. “This is a dangerous thing I’m trying to do. The stage has to be properly set. Poor Wan decided to be stupid and greedy at the wrong time.”

  “You spoke about business. What did that have to do with business?”

  “There is an end to this that can meet many needs and can be a very good thing for a great many people. That is why Uncle agreed to counsel me. That is why I hope you will agree to play a role.”

  “I’m not sure that Madam Wong would ever agree to that kind of relationship.”

  Xu’s eyes softened. “Whether or not you and Madam Wong visit me, and whether or not you accept my business proposition, I would still like to stay in touch with you on a personal basis.”

  “Why?”

  “Uncle wanted it.”

  “And that’s enough reason?”

  “For me it is. So would you mind if I called you from time to time?”

  “No, I guess I wouldn’t,” Ava said.

  “Thank you, mei mei. When you find people worthy of your trust, you need to keep them close.”

  “You think too much of me.”

  He shrugged. “I think not. And perhaps there will be a day in the future when you think enough of me to call me ge ge.”

  “Big brother?”

  “Yes.”

  Ava glanced up at his face. For a second she thought she was looking into Uncle’s eyes.

  COMING SOON

  from House of Anansi Press

  in February 2015

  Read on for a preview of the next thrilling Ava Lee novel, The King of Shanghai

  ( 1 )

  Ava’s plan was to go back to work after four months. She thought that would be enough time to get over the death of Chow Tung, the man she had called Uncle. For ten years he had been her business partner, her mentor, her friend — the most important man in her life. Then cancer took him. Ava was in her mid-thirties now; she was wealthy, had friends and family who loved her, and was a partner in a venture capital company called the Three Sisters. But she was emotionally adrift, still mourning the passing of Uncle.

  She had left her downtown Toronto condo only once during the first month back from Hong Kong. She went to the neighbourhood bank, where she had a safety deposit box that contained Moleskine notebooks detailing every job she and Uncle had undertaken together. They had been debt collectors. Their clients were desperate people who had exhausted all legal and conventional means of recovering the money that had been stolen from them. It was a business fraught with peril: it was one thing to find the money, but it was entirely another to convince the thieves to return it. Over the years Ava had been kicked, knifed, shot, hit with a tire iron and a baseball bat, and kidnapped and held for ransom, as well as withstanding assassination attempts. Without Uncle she would never have survived. Now she had decided to relive every single case, every adventure.

  She put away her computer and cellphone, closed the condo curtains, and spent her days sitting at the kitchen table, reading the notebooks and filling her head with memories. But she didn’t disconnect her land line or cut herself off completely from the outside world. Her mother, Jennie, called and visited several times. Her girlfriend, Maria Gonzalez, came by with food. Maria wanted to stay but Ava wouldn’t let her, and she refused to have sex.

  “I’m not ready,” Ava said.

  Maria was forlorn. It wasn’t until after two more rejections that she stopped asking and came to accept that Ava had to find herself again.

  It is Chinese tradition to wear white for ten days after the death of a loved one. Ava wore white every day for the entire month. There was no plan; it just felt like the right thing to do, until one morning it wasn’t. She had finished reading the last notebook the night before, and when she woke and went to her closet, she found herself reaching for an orange T-shirt. That afternoon she went for a long run.

  The next day she ran again. When she got back to the condo, she phoned Maria. “I’d like to go out for dinner, and then maybe you can come back here and spend the night with me,” she said.

  Connecting with Maria was her first step back. A few days later she drove to Richmond Hill, a northern Toronto suburb, and had dim sum with her mother. Then she called her best friend, Mimi, and arranged to visit her and her baby.

  After a week of running and when her energy level felt close to normal, she walked to the house of Grandmaster Tang. She hadn’t seen her instructor in more than two months, but he welcomed her as if they’d been together just the day before. For two hours they practised bak mei, the martial art that he had been teaching her one-on-one — as was the custom — since she was a teenager. Her body ached when she got back to her apartment, and it did so every day for the next week, as she made repeat visits. When the aching stopped, another piece of her well-being fell into pl
ace.

  In the middle of the second month, Ava began to chat with May Ling Wong and Amanda Yee, her friends and partners in the new business. Three Sisters had already taken ownership positions in a furniture-manufacturing business in Borneo and a warehouse and distribution company based in Shanghai, managed by Suki Chan, a long-time associate of May Ling. Ava knew that her partners were actively seeking other investments, but when she called them, she made it clear that she wanted to be the one to initiate contact, and that she had no interest in discussing business matters just yet.

  Shortly thereafter she received her first phone call from Shanghai, from the man she knew as Xu. When she saw the Chinese country code, she assumed that it was May Ling. She answered at once, thinking that something terrible must have happened if May Ling was calling against her wishes. Instead she heard the soft, confident voice of Xu. He spoke to her in Mandarin, and she had never heard anyone speak it better, each word carefully pronounced as if it had a value that set it apart from the others.

  “I hope you’re well and I apologize if I’m inconveniencing you. I think often of Uncle, and whenever I do, you come to mind. No two people could have had a better mentor.”

  “I am well enough,” was all Ava could say, flustered by the unexpectedness of his call and by the way he linked them through Uncle.

  She hadn’t known that Xu existed until the day before Uncle died, and she had met him exactly once — at Uncle’s funeral. Any doubts she had about the depth of the relationship between the two men had been put to rest when she went through Uncle’s papers. The men had been close. What alarmed her was that most of their correspondence concerned Xu’s management of his triad gang in Shanghai.

  During the course of their first conversation, Xu focused solely on his memories of Uncle, and Ava found herself sharing some of hers. It was cathartic for her, and when he asked if he could call again, she said yes. He became a regular contact. Xu was well-read and they shared an interest in Chinese films and good food. And then, of course, there was Uncle; every call involved at least one story about him.