Foresight

by Ian Hamilton

  “What about recruiting our men to sell drugs?”

  “I couldn’t find any of our men who are dealing, but several of them have been approached by Tai Wai and offered goods to sell. They all claim they said no, and they might have, but you and I know that if enough men are approached, sooner or later someone is going to take them up on the offer.”

  “I’m going to have to call Wu,” Uncle said angrily.

  “How long has it been since he replaced Lo as Mountain Master in Tai Wai?”

  “About six months, and it seems obvious that he isn’t content to honour the agreement I had with Lo.”

  “Do you want me to call their Red Pole first? I could let him know that we’re onto them.”

  “No, I think it’s time I had a heart-to-heart with Wu,” Uncle said.

  “I’ve never liked that guy.”

  “Me neither, but he is the Mountain Master and needs to be respected.”

  “Is there anything else you want me to do right now?”

  “No. I’ll talk to Wu.”

  “Uncle, if push comes to shove I can have our men ready for action in a few hours.”

  “I know, but that’s the last thing we need right now,” said Uncle. “Thanks for finding out what you did, and if you don’t hear from me again tonight you’ll know that Wu was reasonable.”

  Uncle put down the phone, counted to five, and then dialed Wu’s number in Tai Wai New Village.

  “Wei,” a woman answered.

  “This is Uncle — Chow Tung — calling from Fanling. Is Wu there?”

  “Just a moment,” she said.

  Seconds later Uncle heard Wu’s distinctive cigarette-scarred voice. “This is an unusual event. You aren’t a man known for socializing with colleagues outside Fanling.”

  “Not that I would object to socializing with you, but this is a business call,” Uncle said.

  “I wasn’t aware that we’re doing business together.”

  “We’re not. I’m calling because it has come to my attention that someone in your gang has decided that doing business in Fanling is appropriate for someone from Tai Wai.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wu said.

  “I’m pleased to hear that you don’t, because that should make it easier for you to bring it to a halt.”

  “Bring what to a halt?”

  “Some of your men have been loitering around our betting shops, trying to entice our customers to do their gambling in Tai Wai.”

  “You don’t have a monopoly on gambling. And as I remember, when you first opened your betting shops, you were drawing customers from all over the New Territories, including Tai Wai. How can you object now to Fanling customers betting with us?”

  “I can’t stop them from betting where they want, but we never poached customers from other gangs, and I’d like you to stop your men from doing that in Fanling.”

  Wu became quiet, and Uncle waited uncertainly for his response.

  “If that’s been going on, I’ll put a stop to it,” Wu said finally.

  Uncle didn’t sense any sincerity but had no reason to challenge him. “Thank you. And there’s one more thing we need to discuss that’s a bit more serious,” he said. “I’ve been told that some Tai Wai forty-niners have been trying to recruit my men to sell drugs. I need that stopped as well.”

  “Because you’ve chosen not to sell drugs in Fanling doesn’t mean there isn’t a demand for them,” Wu said.

  “We don’t like the damage drugs do. We also don’t like the attention they draw from the Hong Kong police, so we stopped selling years ago,” Uncle said. “Lo understood our position, and in fact he benefited from it several times.”

  “How could he have benefited?”

  “Over the years I have developed a special relationship with some key people in the Hong Kong Police Force. It isn’t something I talk about very often, and I utilize it even less, but it is there, and from time to time I call upon it when I or some friends need help,” said Uncle. “Lo had some personal problems he needed help to rectify. At my request, my contacts obliged him. I don’t see why it couldn’t work the same way for you.”

  “In exchange for not trying to fill a market demand for our drugs?” Wu said. “You should know that we have the finest-quality cocaine in the entire region, and that I’m supplying many of the other gangs. It bothers me — as I think you should understand — that Fanling has turned its back on us.”

  “If we permitted you to sell drugs either directly or indirectly into our territory, I’d be going against the promise I made to my police contact. Whatever relationship that now exists would be destroyed. In my eyes, it isn’t even close to being worth it. So, with all due respect, keep your drugs in Tai Wai and stop trying to involve my men in that business.”

  “Or else what?”

  “It’s been a long time since a brother said ‘Or else what’ to me,” Uncle said, then paused. “Since you are relatively new in your position, I suggest you call a Mountain Master like Sammy Wing in Wanchai and ask him what it’s like to take on Fanling. Ask him about Wang. Ask him about how well trained our men are. If you still feel determined to pursue your course, then we’ll deal with it in a way that’s appropriate to our priorities.”

  “That is making things clear,” Wu said. “Lo told me you can be a difficult man to reason with. Now I see that’s true.”

  “There’s no reasoning with me when it comes to drugs,” Uncle said. The line immediately went dead.

  He had been sipping beer while he spoke with Wang and Wu, and now the bottle was empty. He went to the fridge for his third, opened it, and phoned Wang.

  “Yes, boss,” Wang answered.

  “I spoke to Wu. It didn’t go as well as I had hoped,” Uncle said. “I’d like you to bring together your men tomorrow and tell them that if any of them as much as think of selling drugs, they’ll be gone from Fanling the moment we find out.”

  “What if we get guys from Tai Wai trying to peddle?”

  “Remove them.”

  “How physical do you want us to be?”

  “Physical enough that they won’t return, but not so much that they end up in an urn.”

  “Sometimes that’s a difficult line to define.”

  “If you have no choice and have to err on one side, I’d prefer that there be no doubt about our message.”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  “And one more thing, Wang, I want you to tell the men that we’re going to restore their full monthly payment, effective immediately.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but with everything else that’s going on, I think that’s a very wise move.”

  We’ll see how wise it is in a year’s time, after we’ve burnt through most of our reserve fund, Uncle thought as he hung up.

  ( 5 )

  The next morning followed the usual pattern for Uncle: reading the newspapers over congee at Jia’s, a leisurely walk to the office, and several hours reviewing the gang’s finances. He had phoned the rest of the executive the night before to tell them about his decision to restore the monthly payments. No one had objected, but Yu and Xu both asked how long they could sustain those payments before the reserve fund was depleted. Now, as Uncle processed the numbers in front of him, he figured that if their income remained stable they might be able to stretch things out longer than a year, but he knew that was a big if.

  Fong and Xu arrived mid-morning, and an hour later they all left the office together to catch the train to Shenzhen. They left at one-thirty; forty minutes later they exited the station to see Ming waiting outside with a notepad in his hand.

  As the four men converged, Ming pointed to the pad. “I have numbers for you,” he said. “Last night and this morning I worked at pulling something together. I spoke to my friend in Guangzhou, and he gave me a lot of informati
on and put me in touch with some equipment manufacturers.”

  “I’m impressed you were able to do it so quickly,” Uncle said, and looked at his watch. “Is there a place near Peng’s office where we can go over them?”

  “There’s a restaurant about two minutes away.”

  “Let’s go there,” said Uncle.

  It was less than a ten-minute walk to the restaurant, which turned out to be so busy they had to wait at the door for a table to become available. Uncle could tell that Ming was anxious to share his information, but he didn’t want to have the conversation in fits and starts. “We’ll talk when we’re seated,” he said. “I want to give you my full concentration.”

  It was two-thirty when they finally got a table. Ming opened his notepad as soon as they were seated. “I started by thinking about upgrading my existing factory, but I have to tell you I’m just as excited about turning my second building into another one,” he said in a rush.

  “There’s no reason why we can’t do both if the numbers make sense,” Uncle said. “But the benefit of doing the upgrade is that it would be quicker and it would generate money for us that much faster.”

  “I know, so here’s what I suggest we could do,” Ming said, turning the notepad so Uncle could see a list. “I figure that half of my present equipment should be retired. All the replacement machinery on my list is available right now. I’ve put the costs next to them, in Hong Kong dollars.”

  Uncle did a quick calculation. “Just over ten million.”

  “I know it’s a lot, but I could improve the quality of my Lacoste T-shirts and polos, and I’m guessing that I could increase my output by at least twenty-five percent just using the raw materials I can currently afford.”

  “How much would it cost for you to buy all the raw materials you need to operate fifty-two weeks a year?”

  “Another five million.”

  “What terms do you get?”

  “I pay in cash.”

  “So, about half a million a month?”

  “Yes, that sounds right.”

  “How easy is it to acquire raw material?”

  “All I need is the money.”

  Uncle nodded. “Where is the equipment currently located?”

  “Most of it is in Hong Kong. A lot of garment factories that used to operate there have closed because they found it too difficult to compete against countries with cheaper labour and overheads. The owners have moved their production to places like Thailand and India.”

  “So this machinery is used?”

  “Yes, but a lot of it has hardly been used. The prices I was quoted are about half of what the machinery would cost new.”

  A waiter arrived at the table. “Just tea for me,” Uncle said. “We don’t have time to eat.”

  Xu, Fong, and Ming all ordered beer. When the waiter left, Uncle looked across the table at Xu and Fong. “Do either of you have any questions for Ming?”

  “Yes. I’ve been wondering what percentage of your current production is knock-offs,” Xu said.

  “About a third, but if I can buy all the raw materials I need, put in the new equipment, and run at full capacity, it would be more than two-thirds,” Ming said. “The one thing I can’t do is not fulfill my government contracts.”

  “I understand why,” Xu said.

  “I have a question,” Fong said. “Some of the people I’m selling to have asked if you can do some other brands. There’s nothing wrong with Lacoste, but they’d like more variety. Could you make something like Burberry or Adidas?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  The waiter arrived with their drinks. “Good health,” Uncle said lifting his teacup. After they’d sipped, he checked his watch. “We need to get going soon, and Ming hasn’t told us his ideas for converting his second building into a plant.”

  “There isn’t that much we’d need to do to the building. Most of the cost would be attached to acquiring and installing the machinery.”

  “What’s your estimate?” Uncle asked.

  “Assuming we could find some that was used but in good condition, between twenty and thirty million Hong Kong dollars.”

  “That’s a hefty sum.”

  “I know, but there’s no point in doing it unless you’re willing to put in the right kind of machinery.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m just pointing out that it’s a lot of money,” Uncle said. “I’m prepared to tell you right now that upgrading the existing factory is immediately doable, but I’ll want Xu to run a cost and profit analysis before I commit to the new one.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Good. Now let’s go and see Peng and find out what else we need to understand,” Uncle said.

  A few minutes later Ming led them from the restaurant and headed towards a three-storey building with a flaking beige stucco exterior pitted with small holes. A sign nailed roughly to the wall near double glass doors read shenzhen special economic zone development corporation office.

  “What a dump,” Fong said.

  “It won’t be here in six months. The Corporation is building a new office tower a couple of kilometres from here. It’s almost finished,” Ming said.

  “And don’t say anything critical about the office, the town, or anything else for that matter when we’re talking to Peng,” Uncle said to Fong, and then turned to Ming. “What do you know about Peng? Is he from Shenzhen?”

  “He’s from Guangzhou. He was an assistant party secretary there.”

  “Does he have any business experience?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  They reached the office. Ming opened one of the glass doors and stepped into a small lobby that, with its green walls and faded, cracked linoleum, was as shabby as the building’s exterior. A young woman sat behind a plain grey metal desk that had a black dial phone on it and nothing else. Sitting about six feet away on either side of her were two men in uniforms that Uncle recognized as belonging to the People’s Liberation Army. The men had rifles laid across their knees.

  “My name is Ming. My friends and I have an appointment with Mr. Peng,” Ming said to the woman.

  “May I see your ID, please?” she asked.

  Ming pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and passed it to her.

  “I also need to see the ID of your friends,” she said.

  When Uncle took out his Hong Kong ID card, Fong and Xu followed suit, and they put them on the desk.

  The woman took a spiral notebook and a pen from a drawer and carefully wrote their names and ID numbers in the book. When she had finished, she looked up at Ming. “You can get your IDs back when you leave,” she said. “One of the soldiers will take you to Mr. Peng’s office now.”

  They climbed stairs to the third floor. When they reached it, Uncle found himself looking down a long corridor with offices on both sides. The soldier marched to the end and then pointed at a closed door with the name Peng stencilled on it in gold. Ming knocked on it. “Mr. Peng, it’s me, Ming.”

  Another young woman opened the door, bowed slightly in their direction, and then stepped aside so they could enter a small outer office. When they were all inside, she went to an inner door, knocked, and then opened it. “Mr. Peng, your visitors are here,” she said.

  Peng sat at a large wooden desk that had four chairs placed in a row in front of it. Behind him, framed photographs of Mao and Premier Deng hung on the wall. Peng motioned for them to sit. “Which of you is Ming?” he asked.

  “I am. And this is Uncle, Fong, and Xu,” Ming said, pointing to each of them in turn.

  “Uncle?”

  “It is a nickname, but everyone knows and calls me by it.”

  “And you are Ming’s potential investors?”

  “That’s correct,” Uncle said, taking a seat and examining Peng as
he did so. He was in his forties, Uncle guessed, and in his navy-blue suit, white shirt, and what claimed to be a Dior tie, he looked quite prosperous. He certainly wasn’t lacking for food, Uncle thought; even sitting at the desk, Peng’s girth was impressive. He had a broad, fleshy face, but it was the small mole on his right cheek, which had three long black hairs curling around it, that drew Uncle’s attention.

  “And you are from Hong Kong?”

  “Fanling, actually.”

  “Once you’re on the other side of the border, it’s all Hong Kong to us.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “How did you meet Ming? Or rather I should ask, how did you come to have an interest in his business?”

  “We own and manage several businesses in Fanling that sell designer clothes,” Uncle said, and then motioned towards Fong. “My partner here heard about Ming’s factory, came to see it, and offered to buy the production that wasn’t already contracted to your government. We’ve been his customer for several months now.”

  “You are obviously pleased with the arrangement or you wouldn’t be here,” Peng said. “So tell me, what are you proposing?”

  “We’re thinking about updating Ming’s existing factory and perhaps building a new one.”

  “What level of investment would both of those plans entail?”

  “We haven’t finalized any numbers or, I have to add, made any commitment yet, but the update could cost as much as ten million Hong Kong dollars. Ming estimates that building a new factory could run as high as thirty million.”

  “Those are interesting numbers. We exist to welcome investments like yours from Hong Kong and elsewhere, but there are still rules and regulations that need to be followed,” Peng said.

  “That’s why we’re here today,” Uncle said. “We would like to understand what has to be done for us to be in compliance.”