The Dragon Head of Hong Kong (4 page)

( 6
)

KUNG’S OFFICE WAS
in the Serenity Building on Bute Street, which was a few blocks south off Tong Mi Road, close to the Nathan Road intersection. Ava knew of Nathan Road. It was one of the major north–south routes in Kowloon, and its southern terminus on Victoria Harbour was in the heart of Tsim Sha Tsui — home of the original Peninsula Hotel and some of the best shopping in the world. In Jennie Lee’s mind, no trip to Hong Kong was complete without high tea at the Peninsula and a day spent shopping in the neighbourhood. Ava and Marian both lacked their mother’s shopping gene, but they had gone with her and in the process got to know the south end of Kowloon.

Bute Street wouldn’t hold Mummy’s interest for a minute
, Ava thought as she trudged along. It was all noodle restaurants and discount shops on the ground floors, with apartments in need of repair on top. The Serenity Building was just as shabby. It was six storeys of nothing but offices, and its grey stucco exterior was flaked and broken from street level to as far up as she could see.

The building lobby didn’t inspire confidence either. Its tiled floor was sticky and littered with cigarette butts. To the left of three elevators she saw a company directory. Kung Imports was listed as an occupant of suite 612.

As she stepped out of the elevator that had creaked and groaned all the way to the sixth floor, she found herself staring at one double door. She glanced right and left and saw nothing else. There seemed to be only one office on the floor. A computer printout was tacked to one of the door panels. When Ava drew close to it, she saw that it listed the companies that were, presumably, inside. There were at least ten, and all of them seemed to be involved in the import or trading business. She thought about Mr. Lo, talking about how impressive Kung’s offices were, and wondered if he had actually been here.

She opened the door and found herself looking at a sea of desks. They ran from the door to a row of glass-panelled offices along the far wall, from one side of the room to the other. Most of the desks were occupied, and a steady buzz of one-sided phone conversations filled the air.

“Can I help you?” a woman’s voice said.

Ava turned and saw a middle-aged woman wearing an orange T-shirt seated behind a desk. To her left were four empty chairs and a beat-up wooden coffee table.

“Is this reception?” Ava asked.

“I guess so,” the woman said, pointing at a small sign on the corner of the desk that did indeed read
RECEPTION
. Next to it was another that read
FAN YING
.

Ava was wearing black slacks, black pumps, and a plain white button-down shirt, but she felt decidedly overdressed. Everyone else seemed to favour jeans and an eclectic mix of casual tops. She walked over to the woman. “I’m looking for Kung Imports.”

“You mean you’re looking for Johnny Kung,” the woman said.

“Yes,” Ava said.

“He isn’t here.”

“Then can I see someone else who works for the company?”

“There’s only him.”

“What, no secretary, assistant, or bookkeeper?”

The woman pushed her chair back and swivelled to the left. “See that empty desk over there in front of the last office? That desk is Kung Imports. That’s all there is. We have close to thirty companies that rent offices and desks. They come and go. Kung Imports went, along with whatever records there were.”

“Would you know where?”

“No.”

“I see,” Ava said, feeling flustered by the woman’s abruptness.

“You’re the third person in the past two weeks who’s come here looking for him. I told them the same thing.”

“And why did they say they wanted to see him?”

“They didn’t, but from the looks of them there’s money involved.”

“How do you know that?”

The woman stared at Ava. “How old are you?”

“What does that matter?”

“Besides the fact that you’re a woman, you seem a bit young to be in the collections business.”

“What made you assume I was?”

“They’re the only people who ever want to see Kung.”

“Well, that’s not my case,” Ava said softly.

“No?” the woman said.

Ava took several small steps forward until she was at the desk and then leaned over. “Mrs. Fan, I’m here because of my sister,” she whispered.

“And why is that?”

“She’s been seeing Johnny Kung. Now she can’t find him.”

The woman shrugged.

“Auntie, my sister is nineteen years old. She met Johnny in a karaoke bar. He set her up in a small apartment in Hung Hom. Now he’s gone.”

“That’s normal enough.”

“Do you mean for Johnny?”

“For men in general, but Johnny is as general as any man can be.”

“Well, that doesn’t matter, because none of this is normal in my family. My sister was a student at the Polytech until she met him.”

“Then what was she doing in a karaoke bar?”

“She wasn’t a hostess, if that’s what you’re implying,” Ava snapped. “She had a part-time marketing job with a liquor importer. She went to the bars to promote their products. She said she was sampling Johnny Walker Blue Label when she met him.”

“I didn’t mean to insult your sister.”

“She’s beyond insults now. He hasn’t paid the rent in two months and she’s three months pregnant. The only reason I want to find him is to get him to live up to his responsibilities.”

“I’m sorry. I would help you if I could,” the woman said.

“Isn’t there anyone in here who might know where I can find him?” Ava said.

The woman hesitated and Ava saw her glance towards Kung’s empty desk.

“Please, Auntie,” Ava said.

“Wait here for a minute,” the woman said, rising from her chair.

Ava watched her walk towards and then past Kung’s desk and enter one of the closed-in offices. A moment later, the man who was inside looked in Ava’s direction. Ava hoped he wouldn’t come out to talk to her. She was feeling self-conscious enough about the lie she had spun. She’d had no idea she could lie that well, but then, she had never really tried before.

Whatever they were talking about in the office, the conversation was getting more animated. It made her uncomfortable to watch. She sat in one of the chairs, out of their line of sight.

When the woman returned, she was carrying a piece of paper in her hand. “Here,” she said, thrusting it towards Ava. “That’s the name of a hotel in Shenzhen. My boss thinks that’s where Kung is most likely to be.”

“What makes him think that?”

“It’s his normal hole in the ground when the collection boys are after him. He’s in Shenzhen often enough that he even has an office there.”

“How many collection boys are chasing him now?”

“Nosy little thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business. I’m really grateful for your help.”

“One more thing. My boss says that he doesn’t use his real name when he’s there.”

“What name does he use?”

“If I knew that, I would have told you already.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Now, good luck to you.”

( 7
)

SHE LEFT THE
office on Bute Street, disappointed that Kung hadn’t been there and discouraged by the reality that was Kung Imports. What had Kung shown Mr. Lo that convinced him he was dealing with a legitimate company?
Surely not that office
, she thought. But then, who knew what Lo had been told and what his state of mind was. Maybe he went there the morning after a night at the karaoke bar.

She was pleased with herself, though, for getting a lead. It was still early in the day, and it occurred to her that she probably had time to get to Shenzhen to check it out. Ava knew of the city but had never been there. Until 1979 it had been a small village at the very edge of Hong Kong’s northern border with China; then it became the first of the special economic zones established by the Chinese government to attract foreign investment and create jobs. Premier Deng himself had travelled there to make the announcement. When questioned about cozying up to capitalists, he said, “When you own a cat, what does it matter if it is black or white? All that matters is that it catches mice.” The village was now a city with a population that neared ten million. That was a lot of mice, and Ava had to assume Kung was one of them.

When she got back to the Oriental Crocus, she went directly to the check-in desk. “I need to go to Shenzhen today. Where can I catch a train and how long will it take?” she asked.

“You can get the train at the Mong Kok East
MTR
. It takes about forty-five minutes to Lo Wu station, which is the entry point from Hong Kong into Shenzhen,” a young woman said.

“Thanks,” Ava said, turning to leave.

“Excuse me,” the woman called after her. “Do you have a visa for China?”

“No.”

“You’ll need one, but you can get it at Lo Wu when you arrive. The only problem is that the lines can be very long and slow. I thought I should warn you.”

“Thanks again.”

Ava rode the elevator to her room to collect her passport and the two photos of Kung that Lo had given her. She looked at the bed and quite suddenly felt an urge to sleep. She fought it off and headed downstairs.

“Now, where exactly is the Mong Kok East
MTR
?” she asked the same woman.

The station was a five-minute walk from the hotel. The morning rush hour was over, and she was able to buy her ticket and work her way onto the platform without getting pushed and jostled. She had experienced rush hour once, with her mother and Marian. It was something she never wanted to go through again. Getting to the train had been hard enough, but then they had to fight to get on it, her mother holding onto their hands for dear life, and survive being so tightly squeezed together that Ava couldn’t move her arms.

The train to Shenzhen arrived half-empty and Ava was able to find a seat. At the first stop, Kowloon Tong, the train filled, but there was enough room for people to stand, so she could follow the train’s progress through the New Territories and towns such as Tai Wai, Sha Tin, Tai Wo, and Fanling.

When Lo Wu was the next scheduled stop — by her watch, about five minutes away — she saw the other passengers begin to stand and move towards the exit doors. She had no doubt that when the train stopped, they would be making a mad dash towards the Chinese immigration booths. Part of her was tempted to join them, but then the thought of how unpleasant it would be to get caught up in the melee prevailed. She was one of the last people off the train.

It took twenty minutes to get to an immigration officer. He looked quickly at her passport and then directed her to a door with the words
VISA APPLICATIONS
above it. Thirty minutes and twenty dollars later she emerged with a five-day visa stapled into her passport.

There were two things she noticed immediately when she walked out of the station and into the city: everyone was speaking Mandarin, and Shenzhen seemed to be one gigantic construction site. She had been prepared for the Mandarin but not for the extent of the city’s development. Stunned, she stood on the sidewalk and counted the cranes that were in plain view. When she got to forty, she stopped.

She walked to the taxi stand and got into a long, snaking line that was orderly and moved quickly. When she climbed into her cab, she was barely seated before it was moving. “The Good Luck Hotel,” she said.

The driver’s face fell. “So near,” he said.

Ava pulled a Hong Kong $100 bill from her purse. “Here, will this make up for it?” she said.

“No renminbi?”

“Just Hong Kong.”

He sighed and took the money from her.

The cab left the station, drove past two stoplights, made a right turn, and pulled up in front of the Good Luck Hotel. “If I’d known it was so close, I would have walked,” Ava said.

The driver grunted.

She slid out from the back seat and stood in front of a large grey box dotted with small windows. If it weren’t for the name on the sign, the hotel could have been mistaken for an office tower, or even a factory. She glanced both ways down the street. The aesthetic appeal wasn’t any better. She had read that Shenzhen was a city that had been thrown together in a hurry rather than planned. It was all about function and purpose. The quality of city living was an issue for another day.

She walked through the revolving doors into the hotel lobby. It was as plain as the exterior, with a bare brown tile floor, a Styrofoam-panelled ceiling, and walls that lacked any decoration. It did look expansive, but that was mainly because it was sparsely furnished. There were only four sofas, ten chairs, and six coffee tables in an area that was about fifty metres long and thirty metres wide.

It was just past eleven thirty and the lobby was crowded. Three lines of people were checking out and two lines of people stood in front of empty desks that said
CHECK IN
. Ava didn’t like their chances of seeing their rooms anytime soon.

Her plan had been to show her photos of Kung to hotel staff to see if anyone recognized him. There was no doorman and the front desk staff were busy, but there was a young man leaning on the baggage counter. Ava walked over to him. He stood erect as she drew near. He was no more than five foot six and rail thin. Ava wondered how he managed to lug the suitcases, some of which must have weighed as much as him.

“Do you need help with your bags?” he asked, smiling.

“No, but my uncle may. I’ve been waiting for him for about ten minutes and haven’t seen him. Tell me, did you see him leave?” she asked, holding out one of the photos.

He shook his head.

“Have you seen him at all over the past few days? I was told he was staying here, but I haven’t actually heard from him.”

He took the photo from her and appeared to study it. “I don’t recognize him, but I’ll keep my eyes open now. This is a good vantage point because everyone has to walk by. Why don’t you give me your phone number and I’ll call you if I see him.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Ava said, taken aback by his obvious flirtation.

“This isn’t my real job, you know. I’m an engineering student at the university. I do this for pocket money.”

“Thanks all the same,” she said. “I’ll sit on the other side of the lobby and watch for him myself.”

Any ideas she had about sitting disappeared as soon as she got a good look at the couches and chairs. People were squeezed into every inch of them, and others hovered, waiting for an opening. Ava took up position against a wall that gave her a clear view of the hotel elevators and most of the lobby. To her left was a restaurant that had a long lineup of people, most of them with suitcases. She thought about eating but didn’t have the patience to stand in line. Besides, she didn’t want to risk missing Kung.

After leaning against the wall for half an hour, she was bored and tired, both states being aggravated by the fact that she wasn’t convinced Kung was even in the hotel.

She crossed the lobby again. The bellboy greeted her with a smile.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said quickly. “I do want you to call me if you see my uncle. The only problem might be that my number is international.”

“I can use one of the hotel phones, but it will cost me money.”

“How much do you need?”

“Two hundred renminbi should be enough.”

Ava took a Hong Kong $500 note from her purse. “Here, this will cover it and pay you something for your trouble. And if you do think you see him and it turns out to be him, I’ll pay you another thousand.”

“You must really like this uncle of yours.”

“Never mind about that,” she said, handing him one of her business cards. “My mobile number is the one on the bottom.”

“I think you should leave me his photo as well. It’ll help me and I can maybe show it around a bit. I mean, I want to be sure that I pick out the right guy.”

“Yes,” she said, without any feeling of confidence.

Ava left the hotel to go back to the train station. The weather had been gloomy when she arrived, but now the sky was visible through patches of cloud and the sun flickered. As she walked, she became even more conscious of the surrounding construction activity, with its constant noise of cranes in motion and pounding piledrivers that she hadn’t heard from the taxi. She also hadn’t noticed how many people wore face masks. Halfway to the station, she understood why they did. Her nose began to itch; she blew into a tissue and saw that her mucus was tinged black. As the sun lit the area, she saw that the air was filled with sparkling floating dust particles.

When she got to the station, she went immediately to the washroom. She blew her nose again, brushed her hair, and washed her hands and face. Walking any distance in Shenzhen wasn’t something she planned to do again.

The posted schedule said that the trains ran every ten minutes to Mong Kok. Ava headed for the platform but was stopped just short as passengers were funnelled from the main terminal into a series of enclosures like cattle pens that opened onto the platform. When Ava complained to the woman standing next to her, the woman said, “You don’t take this train often, do you.”

“No.”

“Well, if they didn’t have these holding areas, everyone waiting for the train would be crowded as close to the platform edge as they could get. The people on the arriving train would find it almost impossible to get out. When the train gets in and all the passengers have disembarked, the doors here open and we can get on. It’s a very efficient system.”

Three minutes later Ava witnessed the system at work. After the train disgorged what looked like thousands of people, she watched as thousands more ran from the holding area towards it. She could hardly imagine the chaos if the two human waves ever collided.

She walked rather than ran to the train and was still able to find a seat. Five minutes later she forced herself to stand. Her jet lag had returned and she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Being on her feet helped, but she began to worry about what she would do when she got back to the hotel in Mong Kok. There was no way she could stay in her room without succumbing. As she contemplated her options, her phone rang. Her senses were so dulled that she didn’t recognize the ring at first.

“
Wei
,” she said.

“This is Pang from the Good Luck Hotel. You gave me your phone number.”

“Oh, yes.”

“I just saw your uncle.”

“What?”

“He walked past me as he was heading out.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“If it wasn’t, it was someone who looked exactly like the person in the photo you gave me.”

“So he’s a hotel guest?”

“I think so. I showed his photo to the guy who works the bell desk full-time and he said he had seen him coming and going for a few days.”

“That’s great,” Ava said.

“So what are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You owe me more money.”

“Of course, of course I do. I’m on the train heading back to Kowloon. I need to get off and reverse my course. Are you going to be there?”

“Till six.”

“Okay, then we’ll hook up in about an hour,” Ava said, and felt a sudden surge of energy. “Tell me, did your colleague happen to know what name my uncle is using at the hotel?”

Pang became quiet and Ava realized that her question must have sounded ridiculous to him.

“I mean, you know he’s not really my uncle, don’t you,” she said.

“Yeah, I figured that.”

“So, do you have a name?”

“No, but I found out a couple of other things that you should know.”

“And those are?”

“He’s never alone. According to my friend, Chew, he has two tough-looking guys with him. And you’re not the only person asking questions about him.”