The Red Pole of Macau (6 page)

She imagined the foot traffic all those hotels were generating. “What a great location.”

“That’s why we put up the money,” he said.

“What kind of business are the hotel restaurants and shops doing?”

“We hear the casinos are doing great, but as for the rest of it —”

“I hear that the City of Dreams hotels, and a lot of the others around here, are running at about seventy percent capacity, and that’s if you count the complimentary stays,” Simon said. “In that pod there’s every designer store you can name and more than twenty restaurants, including some of the best in Asia, but I’m told they’re hard pressed to do enough business to pay their rent.”

“Then why build something so huge, so luxurious?” Ava said.

“You’d have to ask Lawrence Ho and James Packer,” Michael said.

“They must have done a lot of market research,” she said.

“I don’t know who they hired to do that, but whoever it was didn’t understand the customer base,” Simon said. “This isn’t Vegas, where people stay for a week. Ninety-nine percent of the gamblers here are Chinese who’ve walked across the border or taken a day bus or the jetfoil from Hong Kong. The average stay in Macau is a day and a half. Those people don’t need hotel rooms. Shit, they’ll stay awake for thirty-six hours or sleep on the bus instead of wasting good gambling money on a room or some upscale dining experience.”

“And your shopping centre?”

“It was down and dirty. Give them something cheap to buy, give them lots of basic, affordable food options. At least that was the plan.”

“That’s still the plan until someone tells us otherwise,” she said.

They pulled up in front of the Boulevard shopping complex. Ava looked past it on either side. The entire sky seemed filled with glass and steel.
It would take a full day just to walk through these places
, she thought.

The Treasure Palace restaurant was on the first level of the Boulevard. As they walked to it, Ava looked around. Simon hadn’t been wrong about the dearth of customers.

The restaurant wasn’t that busy — maybe thirty or forty diners. They stood in the doorway, Michael scanning the room. “There they are, at the back,” he said.

There were two of them. Ava had expected them to stand as they neared, but they stayed seated, staring silently at them. She was about ten metres away when she noticed that one of them was looking directly at her chest. She had large breasts for a Chinese woman and her shirt was a bit snug, but she couldn’t remember the last time she had been so blatantly ogled. As they drew close, the ogler turned and whispered to his companion, who smiled, showing teeth that angled in several directions.

Ava realized she knew him. She’d been with Uncle in a Kowloon restaurant and the man had come to the table to pay his respects. Other than the teeth, which were remarkable, he was nondescript: medium height, slight build, a thin, wormy moustache, black hair cropped close to his skull. He hadn’t changed much in five years. Maybe a little heavier, no eyeglasses, but still the same teeth and still the same affection for Burberry tartan shirts. She remembered that his name was Lok.

She extended her hand when they reached the table. Kao Lok came halfway out of his seat and reached for her hand, barely touching it. She searched his eyes for recognition but they were blank. “I’m Lok. This is Wu,” he said, pointing to the other man.

Wu didn’t budge, his gaze still fixed on her chest.
Bad manners and a pig as well
, she thought.

The Hong Kong group sat and Lok poured tea for them. Ava thanked him with a gentle tap of her middle finger on the table. He gave an awkward smile. “I wasn’t very happy when I found out you were bringing a financial adviser, but now that I’ve met her I’m pleased you did. Maybe when she’s finished with you, she can give me advice,” he said.

Simon and Michael both looked uncomfortable. Ava knew it was only going to get worse.
You stupid sons of bitches
, she thought.

“Did you bring our cheque?” Wu asked.

“Did you bring ours?” Simon shot back.

Wu bristled. Ava looked at him. He was a short, compact, ugly man with thick arms, a big chest, and a small nose that turned up so much the nostrils stared straight ahead. He had a large black mole on his cheek with long, curly black hairs springing from it. The hairs were supposed to be good luck.

There goes Plan A
, Ava thought when she noticed two men standing against a wall about ten metres from their table. They were watching them — looking bored, but watching them all the same.
This really isn’t going to go well
, she decided.

“You made a promise and we’re holding you to it,” Wu said.

Michael struggled to interrupt, to start the meeting on a more even keel, but he had barely got the first sentence out of his mouth before Simon spoke over him. “That’s bullshit.”

“You told David Chi that you were committed, and that if more money was needed you’d find it.”

“We were in a fucking karaoke bar, half-drunk, having a casual conversation about the project, and he said something vague about cost overruns. That was all I was responding to, and all I said was that if it came to that, we’d consider putting up more money. More money on the assumption that the fucking shopping centre was almost finished. You fuckers haven’t even dug a hole yet.”

And there goes Plan B
, Ava thought, before interrupting. “Gentlemen, could we please just back it up for a moment.”

Wu sat back.

“I apologize for Simon,” Michael said, finally trying to salvage the meeting. “We’re under tremendous stress on our side. Because of the delays in the project — none of which, I’m sure, are deliberate — we’ve breached a number of covenants with our bank, and they’re ready to call in the loan we used to finance our portion. You can imagine how difficult that is.”

“Not our problem,” Wu said.

“It is if the bank decides to try to foreclose on the property, or if it decides to pursue action against all of us.”

“Not our problem.”

Ava waited for Michael to continue. He sat silent.
Well, let’s play this out
, she thought. “Gentlemen, I’m quite confused about the status of the project. Could you give me an update?” she said.

“One of the investors pulled out. We need more money. There’s no point starting what we can’t finish,” Wu said.

“When I reviewed the contract, I didn’t see any provision that required us to put in additional funds.”

“I told you, he agreed to it,” Wu said, pointing to Simon.

“I did no such fucking thing,” Simon yelled.

Lok reached into his trousers pocket and Ava flinched, afraid of what he might pull out. It was a piece of paper. “Here is a signed affidavit from David Chi.”

Simon grabbed it and, without reading, tore it to shreds. “He’s a fucking liar and so are you,” he yelled, throwing the pieces at Lok.

Ava was so focused on the paper she didn’t notice Wu get out of his chair until it was too late. He came around the table, and as he was moving forward he threw a punch at Simon’s head. It caught him on the upper cheek, just below the eye. Simon reeled back and then, almost in slow motion, slid to the floor. Wu stepped in, ready to deliver a kick, but Michael grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back. Wu turned, shook his arm free, and wound up to hit Michael. That was when Ava moved.

The crack could be heard several tables away. Wu’s scream reverberated around the entire restaurant as he held his arm, the break in the ulna so complete that a piece of bone had pierced his skin.

She turned immediately towards Lok as the two men who’d been leaning against the wall headed for them. They wouldn’t use guns in a place this public, she reasoned, but she wouldn’t put it past them to have knives. She was thinking about how to handle them when Lok said, “You work with Uncle Chow, don’t you.”

“I do,” she said, her eyes still locked on the two men advancing on her.

“Wait,” Lok shouted at them.

They stopped no more than two metres away. She saw that familiar mixture of anger and lust she had seen in every man ready to beat, or try to beat, a woman. Half of her wanted them to come at her; the other half knew she was in Macau and that Macau was Lok’s turf.

Lok stood. “I thought I recognized you when you walked in. I wasn’t sure until you did that thing to Wu. You have a reputation: a pretty girl with a nasty temper and a vicious streak.”

“I only do what is necessary to defend myself.”

“And these two, how about them? Could you take them?” he asked, pointing to his men.

“Probably, but I’d rather not make a scene.”

“What would you rather do?”

“Leave quietly with Simon and Michael.”

“Is Uncle involved with those fools?”

“No, this isn’t a part of our business. This is strictly personal on my part.”

“Good. I’d be unhappy if I thought he was representing them.”

Simon had now struggled to his feet, leaning against Michael, who looked as if he was in shock. Wu had his head on the table, and was holding his arm, gently groaning. Ava had to admire his tolerance for pain.

“Can we go?” she asked.

Lok actually thought about it, his face impassive. Ava kept her eyes on the two men. If they took another step towards her, she decided she would have to be proactive. “I don’t want to hear from these two again,” he finally said.

She knew it was pointless to argue. She also knew she couldn’t concede completely. “Let’s go,” she said to Simon and Michael. “We need to leave.”

Neither of them seemed to understand. Ava moved to Michael’s side and looped her arm through his. “Let’s walk,” she said, giving him a tug.

She hadn’t noticed anyone in the restaurant except for Wu, Lok, and his men. Now she felt every eye on them as they made their slow exit, the boys like beaten dogs, Ava’s head held high, her walk measured, her chest thrust out, senses alert to anything that might be coming behind her.

She took them to a coffee shop near the Boulevard entrance, sat them down, and went to buy three bottles of water. By the time she returned their shock seemed to be ebbing, only to be replaced by the growing, sickening, and inevitable realization that their money was probably gone, and along with it their business and whatever personal wealth they had.

“Hell of a meeting, but not much of a lunch,” Ava said as she sat.

“I don’t know what to say,” Michael mumbled.

“We’re fucked,” Simon said, touching his cheek, which was already discoloured.

Michael drained his bottle of water in four gulps. It seemed to refresh him. “You shouldn’t have opened your mouth,” he yelled at his partner. “We had a plan. We needed to follow it.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Ava said sharply. “That meeting was going to end badly no matter what you did. Simon just sped things up.”

“Thanks,” Simon said.

“For nothing. The two of you are idiots.”

Simon shrugged. “Who are they, Ava? You say you know Lok. How?”

“They’re probably triad,” she said.

“Holy fuck,” Simon said. Michael closed his eyes.

“You certainly knew how to choose partners for your biggest joint venture.”

“You said ‘probably,’” said Simon.

“I need to confirm it. One phone call will do it.”

“And this Uncle, who is he?”

“My boss — my partner in business, actually. And don’t ask me if he’s triad because I’ve never talked about it with him. And in case you’re wondering, I am not triad.”

Simon said, “Michael told me you had good connections. He wasn’t kidding.”

“They’re obviously not that good or we wouldn’t be out here drinking water.”

“No, but we’re not flat on our backs in the restaurant getting the crap beaten out of us either.”

Ava smiled. She was beginning to warm to Simon. He had shown some nerve, he had a sense of humour, and he was holding up to the adversity better than Michael, who looked lost in whatever dark thoughts were filling his head. “I wouldn’t have let them do that,” she said.

“No, I guess not,” Simon said. “Where did you learn that shit? I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.”

“I’ve been training for years. Anyone can do it.”

Simon sipped from the bottle, his mood faltering again. “For years all we’ve done is build a business, and now look.”

“What are we going to do?” Michael said suddenly, as if he had just woken from a dream.

“Go back to Hong Kong,” Ava said.

“And do what?”

“I don’t know exactly. I’ll make my phone call and then we’ll figure out if there’s anything we actually can do.”

“There has to be,” Michael said.

“No, that isn’t always true,” Ava said. She didn’t care when Michael looked pained at her reply. She wasn’t in the business of false hopes and, brother or not, she wasn’t about to start supporting pipe dreams.

Ava waited until they had landed in Hong Kong and parted ways before she called Uncle. He answered on the second ring, and his brisk
wei
told her he’d been expecting her call.

“Uncle, it’s Ava.”

“I understand you are in Hong Kong.”

“I am.”

“Is everything all right?”

“As well as can be expected. I imagine you have heard from Kao Lok and that he told you we met.”

“Of course.”

She knew he would have. “I didn’t know it was him. I mean, I recognized him when I saw him, but the name meant nothing to me. I went into the meeting totally unprepared to see him there.”

“He is not very happy, especially about the way you damaged Wu.”

“And I’m not happy either, especially about the way they’re destroying my brother’s business and reputation and putting my family at risk.” She knew she had said a lot that needed explanation, and she didn’t want to do it over the phone. “Uncle, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming to Hong Kong. This was strictly personal, not business. Can we meet to talk?”

“I think we have to.”

“Where should we meet?”

“You know Andy owns a noodle shop near the Kowloon Tong
mtr
station?”

“Yes, and I know where it is.”

“Meet me there in an hour.”

It was only after she hung up the phone that she felt the stress of the day descend on her. It was a mess. More of a mess than she could have anticipated. And aside from asking Uncle to intervene, she didn’t have a clue about what to do. She rarely felt helpless. There was always a way, always some lever you could pull. Except this time she couldn’t think of a single one except for Uncle. What ate at her was the thought of having to ask him. And what scared the hell out of her was the possibility that he might turn her down. She wasn’t sure she could handle that humiliation.

She showered quickly and changed into her track pants and a black T-shirt, then headed to the Star Ferry.

It was late afternoon and the harbour rush hour was just starting. Normally Ava sat at the rear of the Kowloon-bound ferry so she could look back at the Hong Kong skyline. Today she sat in the middle of the boat, with no interest in anything but the meeting with Uncle.

She caught a taxi in Tsim Sha Tsui and got to Kowloon Tong five minutes early. Uncle’s car was already at the curb, with Sonny, his driver and bodyguard, leaning against it talking to a policeman, who was making every effort to be polite. Sonny wore a black suit and white shirt, but unlike his boss he had a black tie knotted at the neck. He was a large man, bigger than Ava and Uncle combined. Well over six feet, he had a body that looked soft, but his physique was deceiving — he was more agile than any man Ava had ever met, and even more powerful. He also had no fear and, she thought, no conscience.

“Sonny,” she said.

He glanced at her and smiled. “He’s waiting for you,” he said.

The noodle shop was just inside the station, a location that Andy would have to have killed someone to get if his wife’s father hadn’t already secured the space before the station was even built.

Ava walked in and almost ran over little Andy. He was only slightly taller than her and weighed maybe ten pounds more. He was a good man to have by your side, though, and Ava had used him several times, the last time in Las Vegas, when his expertise with a meat cleaver had proven useful. “Hey, boss,” he said.

“Hi, Andy,” she said.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andy’s wife looking at them. Ava smiled at her and waved. The woman put her hands together as a sign of respect. Over the years she had met a lot of wives like Andy’s. There were times when Ava felt she was leading the life they all wanted.

“Where’s Uncle?” she asked.

“In the back, in the kitchen. I put a little table there so you two could talk in private.”

“Did he ask you to do that?”

“Yes.”

He stood when she entered the kitchen. He was wearing his black suit and a white shirt buttoned at the collar. “You are as beautiful as ever,” he said.

“I’m sorry about this,” she said.

He sat. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Not really.”

“We should not offend Andy.”

“Then order for both of us.”

“Steamed snow pea tips? Rice noodles with shrimp and scallops?”

“Perfect.”

Uncle spoke to the cook, who was working five woks at once. The cook nodded without turning around.

“I was surprised when Lok called me,” he began.

“I’m sorry, let me explain,” she said.

It took her ten minutes. Uncle knew her father, knew about his extended family situation. What he didn’t know was that Michael Lee had reached out to her. She went through it as best she could, not exaggerating but making her feelings clear, particularly her fears that her father and mother and her two aunties — one with small children in Australia — whom she didn’t know were somehow going to be swept up in the mess in Macau.

Before she finished, the cook had deposited the snow pea tips and the noodle dish on their table. Uncle picked at the peas, his focus on her. When she finished, he put down his chopsticks. “You should have called me earlier,” he said.

“Uncle, it was family business. I didn’t think it was fair to involve you.” And the moment she said it she wished she could cut off her tongue.

He went silent, the chopsticks working again on the snow peas, picking scallops from their noodle bed. “You know I never married.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“I left Wuhan when I was eighteen. The family I knew died during the Cultural Revolution.”

“I know, Uncle.”

“I have no children that I am aware of.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“During the past few years I have asked you several times to take on jobs that involved friends.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Did you hesitate?”

“No.”

“So why could you not come to me?”

There were tears in her eyes but she fought them back. “I should have.”

“Now I am afraid it is too late.”

Ava turned her attention to the snow pea tips, concentrating on their tiny heads. They ate quietly, the cook working like a madman behind them, Andy poking his head through the door occasionally to make sure they were still there.

When the last of the noodles were gone, Uncle said, “Lok has pulled this stunt a few times. He owns several pieces of land in Macau, on the peninsula in Coloane and on Cotai. He switches ownership among his companies, often starting new ones. He hires an architect to design an apartment building, maybe an office and retail complex — and now, I guess, a shopping centre — then he goes looking for investors, and he always seems to find them. Everyone knows how scarce land is in Macau, and Lok does not normally have a problem finding willing and eager partners. Needless to say, nothing ever gets built. They will put off the investors with excuses for a while, and when they cannot be stalled any longer, the intimidation starts. No one gets their money back. Most are smart enough to know they need to walk away, but more than one has gone to Macau for a final showdown and never come back.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Twenty years, maybe longer. He used to run a string of moneylenders at Ho’s casinos, and then he managed the massage parlours that double as whorehouses for one of the larger societies. He is a Red Pole.”

“What is that?”

“We have been together so long that I forget what I have told you.”

“About the triad?”

“Of course.”

“Not much. All I know is that you were chairman.”

“An honorary position,” Uncle said, waving his hand. “It had no real power.”

Ava turned her head away, not wanting him see the incredulity on her face. “What is a Red Pole?” she muttered.

“The sharp end of a gang’s stick.”

“I still don’t understand.”

Uncle closed his eyes as if he were conjuring memories. “In the days when I was active, every gang was headed by a Mountain Master or a Dragon Head, as we were sometimes called. Each had three people reporting directly to him: a Vanguard, who organized operations; an Incense Master, who was responsible for ceremonies; and a deputy Mountain Master, who actually executed the plans. The deputy Mountain Master in turn had three people under him: the White Paper Fan, who provided financial and business advice; the Straw Sandal, who liaised among the different groups; and the Red Pole. The Red Pole was the enforcer. He was the muscle who ran the troops on the ground — the 49ers, who were the pledged members of the society, and the blue lanterns, who were like apprentices.”

“49ers?”

“Every position had a number derived from the
I Ching
. The Mountain Master was 489. The Red Pole was 426. The number none of us wanted to hear was 25. It was the designation for a mole that the police or some rival triad gang had planted, or for a traitor to his own gang.”

“So Lok is an enforcer?”

“Yes.”

“How many men report to him?”

“Somewhere between fifteen and twenty.”

“Uncle, can you talk to him?”

“Yes, though I am not sure what good it would do.”

“Is there anyone else you can talk to, someone who has authority over him?”

He shook his head. “The old structures have broken down. Lok is his own man.”

“But you said he reported to a deputy Mountain Master.”

She saw him hesitate and wondered if she’d slighted him by being so insistent. “Not anymore. Things are different now than they used to be. The old ways of doing business have changed and the need to be interdependent has disappeared. The large societies have moved on from money­lenders, whorehouses, and extortion. There is too much money to be made counterfeiting purses and watches, and even more to be made pirating computer software. It takes a different mentality to run that kind of business, so they have cut themselves off from the grubby stuff, handing it over to small-timers like Lok to run as they see fit. He does not report to anyone; he has no allegiances to anyone other than to himself.”

“So we have to talk to Lok.”

“We do.”

“Uncle, I don’t want to be unreasonable. He can keep some of the money. Tell him it’s my way of apologizing for Wu.”

He shook his head. “No, men like Lok do not think like that. He probably thinks the money is his by now. It will be all or it will be nothing.”

“You know best.”

He stood and walked around the table to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and then leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I will call him. Wait here,” he said.

She had no real expectation that he would be successful; she was just appreciative that he’d try. She prepared herself for disappointment, determined not to show a flicker of it. All Uncle would see was how pleased she was that he’d made the phone call.

The few minutes turned into ten and then fifteen. Ava sat at the little table, occasionally picking at the remaining snow pea tips, and despite herself starting to feel encouraged by the duration of his absence. The longer the discussion, the better her chances, she thought. That was until she saw Uncle walk back into the kitchen.

She’d known him long enough to recognize the signs: the tightening of his mouth, the slightly averted eyes, shoulders that weren’t completely square. “So it was no,” she said, making it easier for him.

“It was no,” he said as he resumed his seat.

“Thank you for trying.”

“We exchanged harsh words. He was always ignorant and he had been drinking, and Wu has been agitating him, so I think he liked the idea of my asking him for a favour. And he liked even more the fact that he could tell me to go and fuck myself without having to worry about the consequences. I was not polite in return.”

“Uncle, I’m sorry now that I even asked.”

“No, I wanted to do it.”

“Now what? What do I do?” she said, more to herself than to him.

“You do nothing,” he said quickly. “You cannot reason with him; you cannot scare him; you have no means, legal or otherwise, to get to him. You have to tell your brother that his investment is gone. He should walk away.”

“Just like that?”

“Exactly like that.”

She sighed. “I think you’re right.”

“So, assuming I am right, what are your plans?”

“I’m having lunch with my brother and his partner tomorrow. I’ll let them know how this ends, and then I’ll get the first plane I can back to Toronto.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “I am sorry I could not help.”

“And I’m sorry for not calling you earlier.”

“Go home and rest. Spend some time with your mother and sister. This business of ours is hard on all of us.”

She walked him to his car. As Sonny opened the door for his boss, Uncle said, “Wuhan called. They are very happy about the speed with which you retrieved the money.”

“Has it reached the Kowloon bank?”

“Yes, this morning.”

“I’ve prepared a breakdown of who got what in Europe and how our share should be distributed. I’ll email it to you later,” she said, realizing she should have done that the day before.

The art forgery case had been concluded less than three days ago. To Ava it felt like light-years.