False Nine (5 page)

‘That’s different. Blackie isn’t as bad as some other words perhaps, but it’s still racist.’

‘But surely you know by now that all Chinese people are racist by nature.’

‘I’m beginning to.’

‘Perhaps I should tell you that most nightclubs in Shanghai are a no-go area for blacks. The doormen assume they are all drug dealers and forbid them entry.’

‘That won’t be a problem for me, Dong. I don’t much like nightclubs.’

‘The players do.’

‘They won’t be going to nightclubs either, Dong. I tend to believe that sportsmen should treat their bodies with respect. This means no smoking and no drinking.’

Dong laughed. ‘But everyone smokes in China. Especially sportsmen.’

‘So I noticed.’

I didn’t say much more until we got to the hotel but once there things swiftly went from bad to worse. The Chairman’s Suite I’d had the time before was no longer available. They offered me a standard room with an en-suite bathroom which was a long way from the Presidential Suite with its own kitchen, dining room and the best view in Shanghai. When I rang down to reception they told me this was the only room they had; then they asked me how long I would be staying as the room was booked for only two nights. Even more perplexing was the discovery that I was paying my own hotel bill. By now I was beginning to feel as if I’d made a serious mistake, but it was only when I spoke to Dong and asked her to have Mr Jia call me that I began to think that something was seriously wrong.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Mr Jia is out of town. His secretary says he was called away unexpectedly on business last night, to Hong Kong. And that he won’t be back for two whole days.’

‘So, he won’t be at the press conference in…’ I glanced at my wristwatch. ‘In fifty minutes’ time?’

‘He has sent you a text to apologise,’ said Dong.

‘A text. Oh well, that makes everything just fine.’ I looked at my phone. ‘Now if I can only get some reception then I’ll be able to read it.’

‘But she did assure me that the money is being paid in to your account today.’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

‘We should go to Gemini now,’ she said.

‘Gemini?’

‘This is what the Hyatt hotel calls one of its many conference rooms.’

‘Seems appropriate.’

‘How is that?’

‘Gemini has two faces, doesn’t it? Never mind.’

‘It’s on the second floor. All the Shanghai press and television have been invited. Already this is a big story. Apparently the previous manager did not know he was to be fired. Outside Gemini you will meet other people from the club, I think. They will introduce themselves. One of our top television people, Yuan Ming, will be there to introduce you. She hosts the Chinese equivalent of
Match of the Day
. Our version of Gabby Logan, yes?’

I nodded, not quite sure if Gabby Logan had anything to do with
MOTD
any more but it hardly seemed relevant right now to question this.

I was on my way down to the Gemini room when Tempest O’Brien rang me on my mobile.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning,’ she said.

‘There’s not much reception here,’ I said. ‘At least not on my phone. I hope you’re ringing me to say that the money is now in my account.’

‘No. It’s not. I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not like Mr Jia hasn’t got the money, either. Everyone I know in the business world says the same thing: that he’s a billionaire several times over. But there’s another problem, too. I had a phone call from a friend of mine who lives in Beijing. According to him you told a newspaper that Chinese referees are all crooked and don’t know their offsides from their elbows.’

‘Of course I didn’t. Why would I do that? Especially now. Even if it was true.’

‘The Chinese Football Association is pretty pissed off about it.’

‘If I’d said it, I wouldn’t blame them. But I didn’t. Look, I’ll have to call you back. I’m about to go into a press conference. I’ll call you when it’s over.’

Dong led me to a room at the back of Gemini where several Chinese men and one very glamorous television presenter were awaiting my arrival. The men were wearing Xuhui tracksuits and were, it seemed, part of the coaching staff, although it was rather hard to tell since none of them spoke English. All of them were smoking. We all bowed to each other politely, shook hands, exchanged business cards, and one of the men handed me a tracksuit top with the club crest on the chest and I put it on. Then we went into the conference room where we took our seats behind a long table in front of almost a hundred newsmen and women. The room was decked out in Shanghai Xuhui’s copycat Barcelona colours which did nothing to restore my faith in these proceedings: I was beginning to regret my decision to work for a football team that looked very like the equivalent of a fake Rolex.

Even as Yuan Ming started to speak, my mind was in a state of turmoil about what to do. I might have overlooked almost everything – the casual racism, the mistake with my hotel room, the request for a medical examination, the absence of the club’s proprietor at the press conference announcing my appointment – if the money had been paid into my account as had been agreed. That really rankled with me, especially after all Jia’s remarks about the importance of money in the modern game. And finally I could stand it no longer. I interrupted Yuan Ming and announced that I’d changed my mind – that I wouldn’t be joining Shanghai Xuhui after all. I spent a few minutes giving my reasons, after which the press conference broke up in some disarray and, ignoring the many questions that were being fired at me, I quickly made my exit. It all looked like that stupid commercial for Chanel Bleu when the prat with the nose says, ‘I’m not going to be the person I’m expected to be any more’ – or some such bollocks – and one of the girls in the audience swoons at this show of Gallic individuality.

I kept on thinking that Brian Clough had lasted forty-four days at Leeds United; I hadn’t even lasted forty-four minutes.

I returned to my room where I sent an email to Tempest telling her what I’d done and spent the next half an hour booking a return flight to London. Then I poured myself a drink, drank it and lay down on the bed and told myself that this nightmare would soon be over. Maybe I’d be able to laugh it off when I was back in London but right now I couldn’t have felt more depressed.

5

There was a knock at the door of my hotel room. I opened my eyes and stared out of the window at my Standard Room view. It wasn’t much different from the view in the Presidential Suite except for the fact that there seemed to be a little more cloud at this level. Then again, maybe that was just my outlook on the day. Cloudy with a chance of aggro.

‘Go away,’ I shouted. ‘I’m trying to sleep.’

There was another knock and this time I picked up my iPhone and with the help of the translation app, I shouted the Chinese equivalent, ‘
Likai
!
Likai
!’ It sounded more polite than ‘fuck off’, which is what I felt like saying. My love affair with China was definitely over.

‘Mr Manson?’ said a man’s voice. ‘I need to speak with you on a matter of grave importance.’

‘If you’re from the newspapers you can sod off.’

‘I am not from the newspapers, Mr Manson. I promise you. Please, can we talk? Just for a minute. I can assure you that it will be to your advantage.’

The man’s English was good enough to persuade me that the least I could do was answer the door and hear him out.

I slipped off the bed and opened the door to reveal a Chinese man in his late forties. He was wearing a pair of jeans, sunglasses and a black leather jacket; around his neck were several silver necklaces and on his thin, bony fingers was a selection of grotesque rings. He looked like a Chinese version of Keith Richards.

‘Scott Manson?’

‘Yes.’

‘Forgive me, Mr Manson. In the circumstances I know this will sound like a very strange question, but have we ever met before?’

‘It’s you that’s knocking on my hotel room door, remember?’

‘Please, if you could just answer the question. Before just now, had we ever met before?’

I thought for moment. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You’re quite sure about that?’

‘What is all this? You’re not a policeman, are you? You sound like a policeman.’

‘No, I’m not a policeman. But please. Just answer the question.’

‘No, I’m sure we haven’t met before. I think I might have remembered the necklaces and the rings. Not to mention the David Beckham aftershave.’

‘Too much?’

I shrugged. ‘Depends if you like it or not. As it happens I don’t. I think it might have been made by the same people who made his whisky. It’s all alcohol and not much else.’

‘Perhaps you’re right.’ The man smiled. ‘So then. Let me introduce myself, Mr Manson. My name is Jack Kong Jia. I own the Nine Dragons Mining Company.’

He paused for a moment to allow this information to sink in. Which it did. I felt a huge weight start to descend on my head. It reminded me of a time when I’d had a kick-about for a telly programme using one of those old leather footballs with laces. It had been waterlogged and when you headed it the thing was like a bloody cannonball. When you play with a ball like that you wonder how any of those lads on
Gillette Soccer Saturday
can manage to string two words together. Maybe that’s the real reason ITV ended
Saint and Greavsie
.

‘Since you admit that we’ve never met before, you’ll also admit that I couldn’t possibly have hired you to be the manager of the Shanghai Xuhui Nine Dragons football club.’

‘I don’t understand. You say that you’re Jack Kong Jia?’

‘I don’t say it. I
am
Jack Kong Jia. Yes, that’s correct, Mr Manson. I am he. I can see you still don’t believe me. Let me prove it to you.’

He handed me his passport and after my initial surprise that a Chinese passport should be in Chinese
and
English I felt my heart sink as I saw that his name was indeed Jack Kong Jia. The passport also said that he was a businessman, and that he was unmarried.

‘So who was guy I met before?’

‘Did he show you his passport?’

‘No.’

‘Then it may be that we shall never know. But if I might come in for a moment then perhaps we can find an answer to these and other questions.’

‘Yes, sure. Please. I think you better had.’

Inside my room he collected the remote control off the bedside table and switched on the television. ‘Let me show something. Just to banish any further doubts you might have about who I really am.’ He searched through the channels. ‘As it happens,’ he added, ‘I’m currently on the Bloomberg Channel, on a series called
Market Makers
, talking about the uncertain future of the Chinese economy and our very overvalued stock market which is in line for a correction. Yes. Here we are. I am in conversation with Stephanie Ruhle. She’s rather attractive, don’t you think?’

I watched for a moment – just long enough to realise that he was probably who he said he was – and then handed him back his passport.

‘You begin to see the problem,’ he said, switching off the TV.

I nodded. ‘Shit, I knew there was something wrong the minute I got off the plane. I was supposed to have been paid a signing-on fee which never arrived.’

‘In business I always say that the only thing you can trust these days is the money. A man’s word is worth absolutely nothing next to the certainty of a CHAPS transfer.’

‘And there was to be a medical, too.’

‘A medical?’ Jack Kong Jia laughed. ‘For you? This is not necessary for a manager. Even for a player this would be possible to fix. Frankly I can fix anything here in Shanghai. Especially a medical. I should know.’ He grinned. ‘I have a minor heart condition – a hole in the heart – that somehow never shows up on my regular health check. Although everyone now knows about this.’

‘I’m wise after the event on that one, I’m afraid. Look, I don’t get it. Why would someone want to make me look a fool like this? In China?’

‘Not you, Mr Manson. This isn’t really about you at all. I’m sorry to disappoint you on that score. This is all about me. Someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to impersonate me and embarrass my company. You’re just the fall guy in all this. Which I very much regret as I was an admirer of yours when you were managing London City.’

‘But I went to the club,’ I said. ‘We watched a match against Guangzhou Evergrande in a private box. I had a tour of the Yu Garden stadium the next day. I even met some the players. It all seemed so plausible.’

‘The box was probably one of our top executive hospitality packages. The one with the hostess girls? And the Krug champagne?’

I nodded.

‘As for the private tour of the stadium, with a player-meet, this costs five thousand yuan. About five hundred pounds. No, you’ve been had, Mr Manson. And had good, too. The man hired to impersonate me was an actor, probably. A man with some ability, it seems, since I don’t assume for a moment that you’re a complete idiot.’

‘Fuck,’ I said.

‘Exactly so.’

‘If he’s an actor then perhaps we can trace him. He’s committed fraud.’

Mr Jia – the real Mr Jia – smiled a smile of pity. ‘There are twenty million people who live in Shanghai,’ he said. ‘Even if we could find him, what would be the point? The damage is already done.’

‘But why? Why would someone do this?’

‘Oh, it’s simple enough. You see, I – my club – was about to hire two new players from English clubs to come and play for us in a few months’ time. At the end of your season. These two players – who are household names, I might add – they may have been finished in your Premier League but they would have been paid top wages and would, almost certainly, have given us the edge over all our rival teams. Not to mention some significant marketing opportunities. However, your press conference has put paid to that, I imagine. No one in their right mind is going to sign for Nine Dragons when the evening newspapers print the story about you walking out on us before you’d even started. Even for a hundred thousand pounds a week. You were very eloquent, Mr Manson. Your signing-on fee was not paid. Your accommodation arrangements were dishonoured. There were some calculated insults. Racism. Those new players who would have come are black. No, I’m afraid it all makes us look as if we’re not to be relied on for a moment. Wouldn’t you agree?’