Fragrant Harbour (31 page)

‘What?’

‘Chan’s father-in-law. Our man. He’s out. Retired. Finished. Fucked. Who cares? Same thing. We’re employing the Fat Fucking Fool for no reason. The joke’s on us.’

Lai reached into the fridge and took out a Tsingtao. He opened it and drank.

‘Well, they sure kept that quiet. So who’s in? Who are the new people?’

‘Not sure. I’m seeing someone. Someone called Xiang. Maybe Shanghainese.’

He made a face that said this was not good news. He said:

‘Sounds expensive.’

‘I hope you don’t mind my excusing myself from your kind dinner invitation,’ said Xiang. ‘But so many dealings in the
old-fashioned
Chinese way happened over big, elaborate, costly meals. It slows everything down. And it makes us fat. It is a
dissipation
of money and energy. In the new China we need new ways of doing business. I trust it wasn’t too much trouble to drag yourself all the way out here?’

We met at a building site on the west side of Guangzhou, over the bridge past Liwan Park. A steel-framed building was under construction, and the bamboo scaffolding was following it upwards. It was a grey, wet, humid Guangzhou afternoon. This time we were speaking Putonghua.

‘Not at all. I agree. We must all take China forward. This will be the Chinese century, combining new energies and old strengths.’

None of this meant anything except that there was a change in faction in the city. I was simply showing that I was aware of it too. Much more important was the fact that Xiang had made me come to meet him here, to show that he had power. The foreman had been talking to him when I arrived. I could not overhear, but the man’s attitude was very respectful.

We walked around the new building’s patch of land while we talked. For a while we exchanged mentions of people we knew in the Party hierarchy in Guangzhou. It went badly. Many of my names were unknown to him or had recently retired. There had been what in the old days would have been a purge. Without making me lose face he made this plain. Then we talked about the general situation in Guangzhou, and about the atmosphere in the Special Economic Zones. Then he got to the point.

‘There is a big competition coming. Shanghai wants to be the most important city in China again. As the adopted son of the South, I say in all honesty that this will be difficult to resist. The fight will be hard, very hard. We in Guangzhou must be as
competitive
, as ruthless as we can.’

‘It’s all part of the process by which Guangzhou is taking over
the rest of China. Reverse takeover,’ I said. This was supposed to be partly a joke.

‘The old way of doing things had many virtues. Solidity,
consistency
.
Guanxi
. Slow and steady. Inefficient but reliable. “No stones turn into bread.” That is a saying of Chairman Mao. But perhaps that is what we need to do in China. We need to turn stones into bread, to press ahead. The world is changing very quickly. One point two billion people are Chinese. Slow, gradual change will not work. We need a revolutionary transformation in all practices.’

‘I agree, of course.’

‘The Party here is – Guangzhou is an important city for the
revolution
. Many crucial things transpired here. Much happened here before anywhere else. A new world was born. Perhaps there would have been no revolution without Guangzhou. But things have become a little entrenched. People too. Some changes are needed. A spring cleaning. A fresh approach. New faces for a new era. You understand?’

‘Fully.’

‘In the process of becoming more competitive, a new city administration is requiring all existing contracts which have not advanced beyond a certain point to be resubmitted for tender. All part of the big anti-corruption, pro-efficiency drive. Start again with a clean blackboard. Open things up. Open up the hood and look at the engine. Fix things! This will of course have a
disrupting
effect on existing relationships. Some things that were tied together may become untied. Things that people believed were done may prove to be unfinished. Races that were finished will be run again. A new beginning all across the city.’

He gave me a moment. I felt horror. The future of our
company
depended on the contract to fit air conditioners in the new city-administration building. If it was resubmitted to tender we would probably lose. There are no real contracts in China, only relationships, and ours were now worthless. I said:

‘It sounds like a recipe for chaos.’

Xiang smiled.

‘Yes, that is what it could easily become. A step backward. A formula to freeze Guangzhou in place. In the circumstances, the new city authorities are prepared to exempt some especially
important contracts from the process of resubmission and
reevaluation
. In cases where the work is too important.’

‘The city authority’s own building must be one of those cases.’

‘It would seem possible.’

‘And the nature of the formalities to be undergone …’

‘Similar to last time.’

‘Last time was an arduous and expensive process.’

‘And Guangzhou has grown so much more important since then. At least twice as important.’

I could not believe my ears. Double the bribe we paid last time.

‘So important that news of activities here has been known to reach ears in Beijing.’

He shrugged. My threat had no force, and he knew it.

‘The mountains are high, the Emperor is far away,’ he said in his Shanghai-accented Cantonese.

The next morning I felt depressed. I said goodbye to Lai, went to the factory and worked. Then I took the train from Guangzhou to Kowloon. It takes three hours. Once you allow for time to travel to the airport, waiting time, the time they build in for delays, other formalities, it’s about the same as flying. I could use the other half of my air ticket some other time.

One reason I sometimes take the train is because it covers the same journey I made with my mother when I was eight. She likes it for the same reason. The first time we went back together, in the mid-eighties, Shenzen was starting to shoot up exactly where we had struggled through the paddy fields. She held my hand and I could see in her reflection that there were tears in her eyes. Now Shenzen is a city. Many skyscrapers there are taller than
buildings
in Hong Kong. When something breaks or falls down, they blame shoddy builders from over the border. Also, many Hong Kong businessmen keep mistresses in Shenzen.

It was dark by the time we came within sight of the new city. It is impossible to say what it is like to see a whole city existing in a place where there used to be nothing.

All the way to Hong Kong I thought about what would
happened
if we lost the Guangzhou contract. AP Enterprises would collapse. We would go into receivership. I would lose all the money my grandfather had built up and would put my family’s
security into question. It would be like going back to where we started. No one would say anything reproachful, not even my wife. That would make it worse.

The railway station is about fifteen minutes’ walk from our office. It was too late to take a ferry home and in any case I was too tired. I love my grandfather but he is always so pleased to see me that it demands effort on my part. I had a plate of noodles and wind-dried meats at the Xailung Noodle Bar. The proprietor, Yun, insisted that I have some special tea.

‘You are too tired,’ he said. He could see my bag on the floor and my laptop case on the stool beside me. ‘This tea is cleansing and strengthening. Very good for you.’

I felt fat and unhealthy. Travelling often has that effect on me. I needed to do more walking and drink more tea. After the noodles I bought three newspapers. One of the Chinese papers was part of the Wo empire. Like all Wo’s other papers, this had switched from being pro-British to pro-Beijing in the mid-nineties, and had stayed that way. The other was the
Apple Daily
. This would
contain
the opposite version of the same events. I also bought a copy of the
Herald Tribune
. My plan was to read myself to sleep with current affairs.

On the stairs up to our offices I noticed a light on inside. I put my ear to the door and at first it was silent. Then I thought I could hear low voices. Burglars come to steal our computer equipment was my first idea. Or industrial espionage. I took my mobile phone out of my pocket and punched 999 for the police. I put my finger on the button to transmit. Then I pushed the door open. Only one lamp was on but I could hear sounds from the far side of the office. I moved forward. They were a man’s and a woman’s voices, coming from the cupboard where I kept my bed. I pulled back the door. Min-Ho and Wilson were on my bed. It was only just big enough to accommodate them. When they saw me, they jerked apart. Min-Ho screamed and reached for the sheet. Wilson covered himself with his hands.

‘You’re supposed to be in Guangzhou! You’re in Guangzhou!’ said Min-Ho.

‘So sorry, so sorry!’ said Wilson.

I held up my arms.

‘I can’t cope with this,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

There is a hotel down the street from AP Enterprises. They gave me a room once before when the pipes in the office upstairs burst. The desk clerk remembered me. When I told him I needed a room because I had just found two employees together in my bed he gave me a special price.

C. K. Leung is the head of a company called Marler Enterprises. I met him at the funeral of his boss, Mrs Beryl Marler, who was an old friend of Grandfather’s. She was over ninety when she died and was still going to work every day. Grandfather keeps a
photograph
of her on the mantelpiece. C. K. Leung was one of what my grandfather called ‘Beryl’s boys’. He was a young man from Mongkok whom Beryl noticed and to whom she gave
opportunities
. My grandfather always speaks of him as if he were an eager young man but he is now a powerful figure who heads a large construction concern with many projects. In my grandfather’s mind he is a hungry, polite twenty-five-year-old. In reality he is a heavy, difficult man in his middle fifties. My grandfather has always encouraged me to use him as a source of advice and patronage, which has often been embarrassing but also useful.

We made an appointment to meet in the Captain’s Bar of the Mandarin Hotel. Leung is a well-groomed man who wears expensive clothes and a Rolex and he likes to show he is at ease in formal settings. It is one of the ways he conveys the distance he has come from his origins. I feel he particularly likes to do this with me because of the connection with my grandfather.

I arrived on time and sat drinking water for thirty minutes. Leung came in walking slowly and stopped for a few words with the Captain running the bar.

‘Very busy at the office,’ he told me, ‘so sorry.’ Without being asked, a waiter had brought him a glass of what looked like whisky and a small bottle of Perrier, half of which he poured into it. Leung looked around the room to see who else was there. He nodded at a man with rimless spectacles in the corner who was reading the
Financial Times
.

‘How’s your grandfather?’ he asked.

‘He is very well. He asked me to send his best wishes to you and to your wife and family. I hope they are well?’

Leung had three daughters and no sons, a fact about which he
was known to be bitter. He made small talk. Eventually he said:

‘So how can I help you?’

I could tell this was his favourite part of the conversation. He liked the feeling of power. I did not mind. I told him about the state of affairs in Guangzhou. He listened without asking
questions
. He finished his drink and signalled for another. This time I was included in the round as well. He automatically assumed I would be flattered to have the same thing he was having.

‘Not good,’ he said. ‘I heard about changes in Guangzhou. I didn’t know you had business there. This man Xiang, is he the real power, or is he connected to it?’

‘Connected. He does practical work and he takes messages. A subtle man, a courtier. But not the real power, not yet anyway. He’s my age or slightly younger. The real people are being
careful
. All part of the anti-corruption drive.’

‘Those bastards from Shanghai, they’ll stop at nothing,’ he said. A look of reluctant admiration came over his face. ‘You have to admit, it’s good, even by mainland standards – being invited to bribe someone as part of an anti-corruption campaign.’

‘If it had happened to someone else I would probably agree.’

‘Know how much we lost in China last year?’

Marler Enterprises had been slow to invest in the mainland. It now had interests in Shanghai and the special economic zone. I shook my head.

‘One hundred million Hong Kong. Easy to get money in, make a splash, feel you’re being a big man. Try to get money out – different story. My advice is pay the bribe. It will be cheaper in the long run.’

‘We don’t have that kind of cash.’

Leung swallowed the last of his drink.

‘Then, so sorry, you’re fucked,’ he said. ‘Please give my best wishes to your grandfather.’

I had saved enough air miles for an upgrade on the flight to London. Min-Ho told me this without meeting my eyes. Wilson was being as well mannered as he was capable of being. It was a change for the better. Nobody said anything about what had happened.

I prefer long flights to short ones. It is the only time I have to watch films or read books. Sometimes if there is no one beside me
or if the person is asleep I play computer games on my laptop. I like Donkey Kong because it reminds me of Mei-Lin. Or I use a flight simulator and pretend I am flying the aeroplane. On this flight, scheduled to leave at half past midnight, no one was in the seat beside me. I enjoyed that. We had to wait an hour before we took off because the flight time was shorter than usual and there were no slots at Heathrow so early in the morning.

Whenever I arrive at Heathrow I am grateful for the British
passport
I acquired through my grandfather. There is usually a queue of non-citizens, many of them being subjected to a humiliating interview. On this occasion I went through quickly and caught an underground train just as it was about to leave. The journey to Golders Green took an hour and a half. I like the feeling of
arriving
in one of our family’s three burrows, the only one which exists primarily for my use. Unfortunately I remortgaged the apartment in 1998 so it had become one of the things we would lose if the company collapsed.

I took a shower and changed into some of the clothes I keep at the apartment. The place had a closed smell. The caretaker is
supposed
to air it once a week but I suspect sometimes does not. I opened a window and breathed the mix of greenery and diesel fumes. Then I called my wife. It was 9 o’clock in the morning in London and seven in the evening in Sydney.

‘Wei?’

It was my father-in-law. There was no echo or delay on the line. I hate it when there is.

‘How is the venerable t’ai chi master?’

‘Son-in-law! How’s London?’

‘How did you know I am in London?’

‘The girls keep your itinerary pinned up beside the telephone.’

I did not know that. I was touched. My daughter came on.

‘Hello Father, we had netball today and I was easily the best even though some of the other girls are much taller. And I got the top score in my Pokémon and I am the only person in school who has. And I came top in maths. I’ve seen a giant koala I want for Christmas. Tracey offered to swap all her Ricky Martin posters but I said no. Will you bring me a minidisc when you come through the airport shop? When will you be home?’

‘In a little while.’ I wrote ‘minidisc’ on the pad beside the phone. ‘How are your violin lessons?’

‘Mrs Howard says I make a noise like a cat being strangled.’

My wife came on the phone. ‘You must be tired.’

‘I’m fine. I’m just going to the factory. Haggling over prices.’

‘Ask for twopence, take a penny,’ my wife said, quoting Grandfather. She thought his English phrases were very funny. We talked some more and then said goodbye. The telephone sometimes makes distances seem very great.

A minicab came at 9 o’clock and drove me to Hertfordshire. The arrangement for the Weigen business is complicated. Although the parent company is based near Düsseldorf, their
overseas-business
subsidiary is based in the UK because labour is
relatively
cheap, employment regulations are minimal, and English is a useful language for business. The head office is in Hertfordshire. Many of the people who work here, especially the senior
managers
, are German. The security guards are from the Caribbean and the secretaries are English. The taxi driver was Pakistani with a thick accent I found difficult to understand. The sticker on the underside of the passenger’s sunshield said ‘Free Kashmir’.

The drive took a little over an hour. All the way it was so green. We came onto the industrial estate and nearly collided with a truck pulling wide on the corner as it headed in the other
direction
. My driver wound down the window and screamed at the lorry in Urdu.

‘Arsehole!’ he concluded in English. I paid him and went into reception. The receptionist was reading a magazine while she spoke into a telephone mouthpiece attached to her head. It is always the same woman. I recognise her but she does not
recognise
me.

‘Mr Ho to see Mr Vogel,’ I said. She pressed three buttons and spoke into her mouthpiece. ‘Mr Vogel’s secretary will be down for you shortly,’ she told me.

I waited for a few minutes. Beside the metal-and-leather chair was a stack of English magazines about the marital difficulties of famous people. When I sat still I could feel the movement of the aeroplane I had been on for twelve hours.

‘Mr Ho!’ said Mr Vogel’s secretary. She is another English
woman. She has enormous breasts. It is difficult not to stare. Mr Vogel makes jokes about them when he is drunk. We went through a door with a buzzer and into a lift.

‘Are you over here long?’ she asked.

‘A few days only.’

‘You must miss your family.’

Today she was wearing a pen on a leather neck ribbon which dangled between her breasts. Vogel was waiting when the lift opened.

‘Matthew, my friend! And you look great!’

He was wearing a red jacket. It is easy to tell the German
managers
from the English because of their clothes. He shook my hand very hard. He is proud of his English.

‘Helena, bring us a couple of cups of coffee the way Mr Ho likes it, very strong.’

I like Vogel. He is intelligent and direct. He has worked for Weigen all his life. His wife hates England and is always asking when they will go home to Germany. Sometimes she goes away for a month or two and then he says he is lonelier but also
happier
. They have no children. When I come to England he makes a point of introducing me to everybody in his office. He did this again. Some of the people remembered me and made small talk. Then we settled down to discuss business.

‘There’s a coincidence, Tommy Cheung is about too. He’s in another part of the office. He’ll be here later to say hello. You know him of course?’

Tommy Cheung has the south-east Asia franchise for Weigen’s other businesses, the ones which do not involve air conditioning. Their company headquarters are in Singapore. He is a
third-generation
Chinese–American, educated at Stanford. He wears expensive clothes. At this point, relations between us were
cordial
but distant.

I explained to Vogel about the discounts we were looking for. We bargained for a little bit. The truth was that they could let us go out of business without suffering too much since the franchise would still have value for them. But it might slow things down. Also it would be a loss of face. They were very proud of their emphasis on relationships. Eventually we got down to discussing figures. 

‘Five per cent,’ said Vogel.

‘Ten is the minimum we need.’

‘Five is all I can offer. I will have to clear it with Düsseldorf.’

‘We may not be in business to claim it in six months’ time.’

‘Five per cent dated to cover outstanding invoices.’

‘Okay. Thank you.’

We shook hands. I wondered what the real maximum figure was and whether I should have held out for seven and a half. As Vogel led me out of his office, Tommy Cheung came in from the left. He looked surprised to see me. We said hello and shook hands. There was small talk.

‘Matthew, have you transport arranged? You can share a ride, yes?’ said Vogel. I saw a moment of hesitation in Cheung and then he said:

‘Sure. I have a driver. I’ll drop you.’

‘I’m heading for Golders Green. It’s near the A41 into central London.’

‘Whatever.’

We all went down together in the lift. Cheung and I said
goodbye
to Vogel. Again he squeezed my hand too hard. Outside an Englishman wearing a tie opened the door of a Mercedes for us. I got in first. Cheung followed.

‘Driver, can we please go via –’ He gestured at me.

‘Golders Green.’

‘No problem, sir.’

As the car moved off, Cheung took out a Palm Vx and made a note before slipping it back into his jacket pocket. Then he yawned. He undid the top button of his shirt and sat back.

‘When did you get in?’ he asked.

‘This morning.’

‘I got in on Monday. The third day is often the worst, isn’t it? I take melatonin but it doesn’t seem to work as well as it used to.’

‘My wife forbids me to take it. She’s a dentist. She says it
interferes
with too many important chemical processes in the brain.’

Cheung looked interested.

‘My Dad says the only known cure for jet lag is tiger-penis wine,’ he said. ‘My daughter said, did he have any idea how that is made? She’s nine. He says, of course, they kill a male tiger and cut off his penis. She says, that’s disgusting, you’re disgusting,
someone should cut
your
penis off. Then she slams the door and disappears. Nine! They push all this eco stuff down their throats in the States. It’s like a religion. The old man pretended not to mind but he was really upset. What can you do?’

‘My daughter is six. I hope she doesn’t know what a penis is yet.’

I found it difficult to imagine Cheung as a father. He seemed too young and too smooth. But he looked happy as he talked. He took out a photograph of a buck-toothed girl with pigtails and glasses.

‘She’s very pretty,’ I said. ‘Strong character in her face. Lovely eyebrows.’

‘She’s been driving us crazy about contact lenses. We say, not until you’re in your teens. Not until the oculist says it’s okay. She has a tantrum. “You’re the worst parents in the world. I’m going to run away and hide in the woods and get eaten by a bear and then everyone will know how horrible you are to me!” My father is Chinese, I’m Chinese–American. My daughter is American– Chinese. It’s the way it goes. Again, what can you do?’

We talked about our families all the way back to London. When we were past the Underground station he said:

‘Wait a minute. I know this place. There’s a great Japanese restaurant here. Want to take some lunch?’

I had nothing to do until the next day. I was flattered. I said yes. The driver pulled up and let us out.