The Couturier of Milan

by Ian Hamilton

  “Lop said their names were on the flight manifest.”

  “So he told me, and Bianchi finally mentioned their names when I spoke to him about an hour ago.”

  “So he said they’ll be at the meeting?”

  “It was implied.”

  Xu looked at his watch. “That meeting is closing in on us. Perhaps we should take some time to talk about our strategy.”

  “My thinking exactly, but we also need to eat. I have a separate dining room in the suite, and the hotel restaurant, Beijing Kitchen, has a good reputation. Shall I get them to send up some food?”

  “That sounds perfect,” Xu said.

  “Any preferences?” Lam asked.

  “I eat everything,” Ava said.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Lam said.

  ( 45 )

  At twenty minutes to seven Xu, Lam, and Suen left the hotel to go to the Don Pietro restaurant, which was on a side street a few blocks from the Hotel Lisboa. Lop had made the trip from the Grand Hyatt several times and calculated it was ten minutes away, even in heavy traffic. One of his men who was familiar with the route was the designated driver. The plan was for him to drop off Xu and the others and then return to the Hyatt to pick up Ava. By the time Ava arrived at the restaurant, Xu and Lam would have had about thirty minutes to talk through various issues with the Italians.

  “We need to lay the groundwork, to set the proper tone,” Lam had said. “It will be all about business, but I don’t see why it can’t be collegial.”

  “But they need to understand that not only have we shut down part of their production, we can keep it shut,” Xu said. “We want to negotiate from a position of strength.”

  “They might react badly if you’re that blunt. They might see it as a threat,” Lam said.

  “The message can be subtle, but it has to be clear. They need to know that we’re not just posturing,” Xu said. “My feeling, though, is that it will all boil down to money. They’ll want to know what it will cost to stop the bleeding.”

  “And if they ask for a number before Ava gets there?”

  “We stall.”

  “And then she walks in and —”

  “We’ll find out.”

  “I know we’ve talked about it, but I’m still not entirely sure it’s the right approach,” Lam said hesitantly. “It could be disruptive, and maybe worse than that.”

  “You might be correct, but I agree with Ava that if she walks into that meeting with us, we might not even have a meeting. They’ll know we lied to them and they’ll feel manipulated. They could explode, and then what chance do we have for a rational discussion? I want their attention for at least thirty minutes so they can understand who they’re dealing with and what kind of power we can exercise. It might temper their ultimate reaction.”

  Lam turned to Ava. “I wasn’t being critical of your idea,” he said. “All I want is a resolution that benefits everyone in the long run, and every option has to be considered.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “So we’re agreed on her late arrival?” Xu said.

  Lam nodded.

  Ava reached over the table to touch his hand. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your support.”

  “Let’s hope you feel the same after the meeting.”

  At six-thirty Lam and Xu left the suite, leaving Ava and Sonny the sole occupants.

  “I don’t know why, but I have an uneasy feeling about this meeting,” Sonny said.

  “You’re out of practice. This kind of thing used to be routine for you.”

  “Not meeting with Italians. That was always special. That always made Uncle nervous.”

  “I —” Ava began, and then stopped as her phone rang. She looked at the incoming number and had her own attack of nerves.

  “Mummy, is everything okay?”

  “Do you know what time it is here?”

  “Six-forty in the morning.”

  “Exactly. So can you please tell me why two men came to my front door a few minutes ago asking for you?” Jennie said, her voice cracking.

  “Did you let them in?”

  “Of course not. I yelled at them through the door, but I could see them through the peephole.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That I haven’t seen or heard from you in weeks.”

  “Have they left?”

  “Not yet. They hung around the door for a few minutes and I was afraid they were going to go around to the back. Now they’re sitting in their car in front of the house.”

  “Do you want to call the police?”

  “And tell them I’m scared because a car is parked in front of my house? They’d laugh at me.”

  Jennie’s answer told Ava that her mother had already thought about calling the police and ruled it out. “Did the men say why they wanted to see me?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “What did they look like?”

  “Dark-haired gweilos. They looked Italian or Greek to me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Ava, I’ve been living here long enough to be able to tell one gweilo from another.”

  “Okay, I believe you.”

  “I don’t care if you do or don’t. What I want to know is what the hell they’re doing here.”

  “I’m in Hong Kong —actually, Macau —and we have a business problem I’m trying to resolve that does involve some Italians. There’s a meeting in half an hour that should put it to bed. I can’t imagine you’ll see those men again,” Ava said.

  “And if you can’t solve your problem?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “That doesn’t sound particularly encouraging.”

  “Mummy, I’ll solve it.”

  Jennie Lee breathed deeply into the phone. “I never interfere with your business, but I can’t have it coming to my door or sitting in front of my house. That scares me.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “You can’t guarantee that. It will be enough for me if those two thugs leave.”

  “I promise you they will.”

  “I’ll depend on you for that.”

  “Yes, Mummy,” Ava said.

  She closed her eyes, shook her head, and sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” Sonny asked.

  “The Italians have paid a friendly visit to my mother.”

  “Fuck.”

  “This has to end tonight.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I don’t have any choice.”

  “Whatever you need me to do . . .”

  “Sonny, there isn’t a person in the world I count on more than you,” Ava said. “But it’s important that we stay calm.”

  “I know. Uncle always said the same thing.”

  Ava was about to say something else when Sonny’s phone rang.

  “It’s the driver. He’s downstairs,” he said.

  “Then let’s go.”

  ( 46 )

  The BMW was at the entrance, the driver sitting behind the wheel.

  “He should be holding the door open,” Sonny said.

  “I don’t think he drives for a living,” Ava said.

  Sonny grunted and opened the back door for her. He climbed into the front. “How were things at the restaurant?” he said to the driver.

  “It was almost empty, and the boss has men surrounding it.”

  “By ‘boss’ you mean Lop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s solid.”

  The driver looked shocked that Sonny would dare pass judgement on Lop.

  “Did you go into the restaurant?” Ava asked.

  “No.”

  “Then how did you know it was almost empty?”

  “I could see through the windows, and there was a big sign on the door saying it was closed for a private function,” he said, pulling out of the hotel driveway.

  The car retraced the path through Taipa and over the Carvalho Bridge. They drove past neon signs ad
vertising the Lisboa and the Grand Lisboa and into a part of Macau where the streets were lined with shops and restaurants.

  “This is how I remember the place,” Sonny said.

  “In a few years they’ll be gone as well, replaced by another casino,” the driver said.

  “Are you from Macau?” Ava asked.

  “No, but I leave so much money here I might as well be.”

  Ava had a vague memory of the neighbourhood. She thought she had been there with Uncle, to meet a client who had taken them to a restaurant that specialized in snake. She remembered a glass cage in the window filled with serpents, from which the client had chosen several that were prepared in a variety of ways.

  “Is there a restaurant near here that specializes in snakes?” she said.

  “It’s one street over. These three blocks have a lot of wild animal restaurants. They cook bats, raccoons, snakes, bears, and seals. I don’t know how an Italian restaurant has managed to survive in this area,” he said. “Speaking of which, there it is.”

  Ava looked to her left and saw a white neon sign flashing DON PIETRO above a green, white, and red canvas awning. The front window had modest painted depictions of the leaning tower of Pisa and the Colosseum.

  “It does look quiet,” Sonny said.

  The car stopped directly in front of the restaurant. Ava was surprised that no one was guarding the door, but when she looked to either side she saw four Chinese men standing about twenty metres away. The driver got out of the car and waved at them. “I think it’s safe to go inside,” he said.

  Sonny opened the door. Before Ava could climb out, her phone rang. Her first thought was that it was her mother and she felt the onset of panic, but when she glanced at the screen she saw 63 —the country code for the Philippines. What the hell? she thought, then jammed the phone back into her bag.

  Sonny led her into the restaurant. The space was long and narrow, with a desk and bar on the left and a row of tables for two on the right. The back of the restaurant was only partially visible because a line of portable screens blocked the view. A large man stood in front of the screens, his feet planted, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes fixed on Ava and Sonny. She guessed he was at least six foot two and weighed as much as Sonny. They walked slowly towards him. As they did, he turned his head and said something in Italian.

  A second man appeared from behind the screens. He was as large as the first and dressed identically, in a black T-shirt and jeans.

  “What do you want?” the first man said.

  “We want to join the meeting,” Ava said.

  “This is a private function.”

  “Actually, I’m the reason there is a meeting,” she said. “I don’t think anyone will object to my joining it.”

  “There’s no one else on the list.”

  Ava took a step forward. Before she could take another, the man to her right reached out and grabbed her arm. She flinched, and saw the second man step between her and Sonny. Her left hand searched for the man’s elbow and she dug her nails into the nerve she was looking for. He screamed in pain and his arm fell helplessly to his side.

  As the other man heard his partner yell, Sonny drove a fist into his ear. As the man staggered, Sonny grabbed him by the collar and drove his head into the bar. He collapsed onto the floor.

  The man Ava had engaged with was now on his feet. He threw a punch in her direction. She sidestepped him, trying to find a good angle to deliver a phoenix-eye fist to his ear or nose. When she couldn’t, she flicked a fingernail into his eye, drawing a spurt of blood. Before Ava could inflict further damage, Sonny was on him. He gripped the man’s shirt, rammed his head into the bar, and threw him on top of his partner.

  “Stay there,” Sonny shouted at their prone bodies. “I have a gun. If you move, you die.”

  Ava heard raised voices from the other side of the panels. She pushed one back and saw seven men seated at a round table. Suen was standing behind Xu and an Italian who was even bigger and heavier than the two men out front was leaning against a brick wall.

  “La puttana principale!” Dominic Ventola shouted.

  Bianchi’s man pushed away from the wall and took a couple of threatening steps towards them. Sonny caught him by the throat, lifted him off the ground, and propelled him back towards the brick wall. His head smashed against it and he slumped to the floor.

  “Hi. My name is Ava Lee, and this is my colleague Sonny Kwok. We’re here to talk about resurrecting the PÖ line.”

  ( 47 )

  Lam’s face was impassive. Xu had a slight smile on his. Raffi Pandolfo’s mouth gaped and he looked to be in shock. Dominic Ventola turned away from her and Sonny and spoke rapidly in Italian to the three middle-aged men who were seated to his left.

  “Your entrance was a bit dramatic but your timing is impeccable,” Xu said. “We were just about to start discussing PÖ in some detail.”

  “What is this shit?” Ventola yelled.

  “I think it would be polite to make some introductions first,” Ava said. “Who are these gentlemen with you and Raffi?”

  “My name is Franco Bianchi, and these are my associates Ricci and Moretti.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Ava said, noting how calmly Bianchi spoke and carried himself. He was about the same age as Ventola, equally stocky, freshly shaven, and with thick hair combed straight back. He was dressed in a long-sleeved black cotton shirt with red piping around the edges of the collar and down the front. He looked more like someone who worked at VLG than the man who ran the Camorra.

  “I wish I could say the same,” Bianchi said. “Was all that violence really necessary?”

  “Sonny doesn’t like being threatened at any time, and when I’m involved he tends to overreact.”

  Bianchi looked across the table at Lam. “You lied to us about her,” he said matter-of-factly. “We thought you might have, but Ricci hoped the relationship between us and your organization was of such long standing that you would honour the association.”

  “Ava isn’t just anyone,” Lam said. “She has strong ties to Xu and I’m personally indebted to her.”

  Bianchi turned to Ventola. “I’m surprised you didn’t do more research, Dom. It would have been useful for us to know that this woman is connected to these people. In fact, it would have been even more useful if you’d known that before she and her partners met with you in Milan.”

  Ventola shouted, “How could we have known?”

  “He’s right. We don’t make a point of publicizing our relationship,” Xu said.

  “But now that we do know, I find myself confused,” Bianchi said. “All this talk about getting our shipments moving and the plants going back into production, what was that? Window dressing?”

  “No. We’re prepared to do all that.”

  “At what cost?”

  “Absolutely none, where money is concerned.”

  “Don’t play games with me,” Bianchi said, his tone sharpening. “I have no tolerance for bullshit.”

  Xu pushed his chair back from the table. “Let’s make room for Ava,” he said to Lam. “Sonny, will you bring another chair here, please.”

  Lam slid to one side. Sonny pushed a chair into the space and went to stand with Suen. Ava sat at the table, trying to catch Ventola’s eye. He avoided her gaze. Pandolfo did the same.

  “Where are your other men?” Ava said to Bianchi.

  “What men?”

  “The ones listed on your flight manifests.”

  Bianchi turned towards the man he’d identified as Moretti.

  “Let them figure out who they are and where they are,” Moretti said.

  Ava looked at Xu. “Lop has the place surrounded. I’m not worried,” he said.

  “Well, I am worried,” Ava said, leaning in towards Bianchi. “Two men showed up at my apartment in Toronto yesterday. Less than an hour ago, two more knocked on my mother’s door and are now sitting outside her house in their car. Who sent them?”


  “We did,” Moretti said.

  “Well, fuck you for doing that.”

  “Like Franco said, we thought Lam might have lied to us. We wanted to know for certain.”

  “And now that you do?”

  “That’s up to Franco.”

  “If you don’t mind my saying it, I think we’re getting sidetracked,” Lam said.

  “No, I need to finish what I want to say,” Ava said sharply. “If anything happens to my mother or to any of my friends, I will come after you —Sonny and I will come after you.”

  “And regardless of how this meeting ends, I must tell you that nothing had better happen to Ava or her partners or her family,” Xu said. “I promise you we will take revenge on anyone who harms them.”

  “You can safely assume that you’ll never have to do that,” Bianchi said.

  “There are still those two men in Toronto,” Ava said.

  Bianchi looked at Moretti. “Call them,” he said, and then added something in Italian.

  Moretti took a phone from his pocket and turned his back to them.

  “Can we now get back to discussing real business?” Bianchi said.

  “I told you we shouldn’t have come here,” Ventola blurted. “We should have waited them out. We could have found other plants.”

  “You might have, but even if you did we would have eventually closed their doors to you,” Xu said. “And all those minor inconveniences that Ava caused by arranging for goods to be seized and containers to go missing . . . Well, that would only have escalated. China would disappear for you as a market and as a source of supply.”

  Bianchi raised a hand. “Stop, that’s enough. I may not believe you’re capable of doing everything you say you can, but there’s no doubt you can cause enough disruption that our business doesn’t need.”

  “You’re an owner in the business?” Ava asked. “We were never sure.”

  “Dominic and I have been friends since our childhood in Naples,” Bianchi said. “I personally financed the very first Ventola suit collection, and I have supported him and Raffi ever since.”

  “Then you should understand our commitment to Clark Po,” Ava said.