by Ian Hamilton
“Where in Guangdong?”
“In Zhuhai, next door to Macau, and in Shantou, which is only a few hundred kilometres from Hong Kong,” Uncle said. “It seems obvious that the Chinese are trying to build economic bridges between the mainland and Macau and Hong Kong before the territories are scheduled to be returned.”
“As you know, there is a gang in Macau,” Yin said.
“A gang that knows only drug dealing, pimping, and extortion,” Uncle said. “There’s no way they could stay out of trouble in Zhuhai, even if they did have the sense to set up operations there. As it is, I’m sure they’ve never heard of a special economic zone and have zero interest in doing any kind of business in China.”
“I don’t know anyone in Zhuhai, Shantou, or Xiamen, and I’ve never been to any of them,” Tse said.
“Me neither,” said Yin.
“Before I came to meet Ming, the last time I was in Shenzhen was twenty years ago, and that was for two days. After we met, we chatted, one thing led to another, and he led me to Peng,” Uncle said. “Now what I’m counting on is that all the other SEZs have someone like Peng at or near the top.”
“What if they don’t?” asked Yin.
“Then we won’t be doing business there — but I’m willing to wager ten thousand HK dollars that they do,” Uncle said.
“How do we confirm that without sticking our necks out?” Tse asked.
“I’m prepared to talk to Peng about it. He’ll know,” Uncle said.
Tse turned to Ma, his Straw Sandal. “What do you think?”
“I really like the idea of getting in on the ground floor. And if Uncle is right about the Chinese officials being willing to partner with us, it could be a tremendous opportunity.”
“I agree, but I don’t want to waste too much time or money finding out about the Chinese officials,” Tse said.
“If you want, I’ll talk to Peng tonight,” Uncle said.
“What do you think?” Tse said to Yin.
“I’ll be interested in what Peng has to say,” Yin replied.
“Me too, and if it’s encouraging, then I’d be prepared to look at Zhuhai,” Tse said.
“Why should you get Zhuhai?” Yin asked.
“I’m closer to it than you are.”
“By maybe ten kilometres.”
Yin shrugged and looked across the table at Uncle. “If this works for us, what do you expect to get out of it?”
“Nothing directly from either of you, just goodwill,” Uncle said. “But indirectly, I would like both of you to stay out of Shenzhen and to convince the other Mountain Masters to do the same until I’ve established a strong enough base.”
“I can do that,” Yin said.
“Me too,” said Tse.
“And there’s one more thing,” Uncle said.
“There’s always one more thing with you,” Tse said.
“It isn’t anything that will cost you,” Uncle said, and then looked over at Xu. “My White Paper Fan was in Shanghai when Mao drove the triads out of China. He kept a house there and wants to go back. If you have no objections, my plan is to have him establish a presence in Xiamen. It isn’t Shanghai, but it’s almost halfway between there and Hong Kong. Who knows, one day he might make it all the way back.”
( 9 )
The Emerald Dragon was reputedly the best restaurant in Shenzhen, which in Uncle’s view meant it might have made the list of the top two hundred restaurants in Hong Kong. Anxious to make a good impression and not willing to let the restaurant go it alone, Uncle had instructed Fong to hire some Hong Kong chefs to prepare the meal. To his credit, the restaurant owner had been happy to go along with the plan. As the first dishes were brought to the tables, Uncle knew they were in good hands.
Shark-fin soup was almost mandatory for such an occasion, and it was excellent. But even better was the cold sliced abalone, served on a platter with jellyfish and slivers of translucent raw lobster meat. It was imaginative, incredibly tasty — and expensive. The cost, as always, was factored into the appreciation shown by the diners.
“This is absolutely wonderful,” Peng said. “I had no idea the restaurant was capable of preparing food like this.”
Peng sat to Uncle’s right and Lau was on his left. Ming was next to Peng, and Yin, Tse, Fong, and Xu completed the table. Uncle had hoped that Liu, the new customs director, would join them. Peng said he had invited him and there was a chance he’d show, but there was still no sign of him when dinner began.
“We enlisted the assistance of some chefs from Hong Kong, but they tell us that your local chefs are entirely capable,” Uncle said.
There were four glasses in front of each of the diners, for beer, wine, Maotai, and cognac. Every glass was full, and it was kept that way by a circulating crew of servers. Uncle had experienced this kind of banquet many times before. Sooner or later someone would say ganbei and everyone at the table would feel obliged to empty the glass they were drinking. He sipped beer, preserving sobriety for as long as he could.
Uncle engaged both Peng and Lau in conversation, but they were continually being interrupted by the arrival of platters of food, which both men quickly dug into. Still, over deep-fried whole pomfret he managed to learn that Peng’s grandfather had been on the Long March with Mao, and as a reward was named party secretary in Guangzhou, a position Peng’s father had inherited.
Lau was a self-made man, or as much one as anyone could be in China. He came from Beijing. His parents were Party members but had never held senior positions at any level of government. Nonetheless, they had had enough influence to get their only child into the University of Science and Technology, and he had been smart enough to graduate with an engineering degree. He was still in his thirties, and his appointment in Shenzhen, he assured Uncle, was only a stepping stone to much grander positions.
As dishes of roast duck, fragrant fried rice laden with shrimp and scallops, sizzling sliced beef, and cold Sichuan noodles were being served and consumed, the servers kept pouring alcohol. Yin and Tse were both drinking Maotai, a much more potent beverage than beer or wine, and Uncle was beginning to worry that they might become indiscreetly verbose.
Then Peng said, “There’s Liu. He made it after all.”
Uncle looked towards the entrance and saw a trim young man of medium height. He had a thick head of jet-black hair combed straight back and a full moustache that extended down beside his mouth. He wore the official uniform of a senior customs officer, a blue jacket and pants. The jacket had gold buttons down the front and on each breast pocket. Above the pocket on the right breast was Liu’s official number. On the shoulders were gold epaulettes that indicated what Uncle thought might be the rank of colonel. Under the jacket he had on a white shirt and a black tie, and tucked under one arm was a white cap with a black brim and gold braid.
Uncle watched as Liu glanced around the room in a manner that seemed serious, pensive, and maybe even questioning. This is a man not to be taken lightly, Uncle thought as he turned to Peng. “Tell me, is Liu aware that you know about his side business?”
“I don’t think so.”
“It might be wise to keep it that way,” Uncle said. “He doesn’t look like the kind of man who wants his secrets shared.”
“I’ve met him only a few times, and always on business,” Peng said. “He is indeed tight-lipped.”
“You should go and meet him while we make room for him at the table,” Uncle said. “Fong, could you ask one of the servers to reset your place, and then will you join Tse and Yin’s men at their table, please?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
As Fong and Peng got up, Uncle noticed Lau looking at him questioningly. It dawned on him that maybe he was the one who had just been indiscreet. Peng had told him that Lau had been paid for issuing the permit, but perhaps Lau didn’t know that Peng had told Uncle. He made a mental
note to ask Peng who knew what, and chided himself for not having done it already.
“It doesn’t appear that Colonel Liu will be keeping us company,” Lau said
“I beg your pardon?” Uncle said.
“Peng is motioning for you to join him at the door,” said Lau, gesturing to the entrance.
Uncle looked over and saw Peng dong exactly that. “Excuse me,” he said and stood up.
Peng and Liu were having a conversation that stopped abruptly as Uncle reached them. “Thank you for joining us,” Uncle said to Liu.
“As I was explaining to Peng, I can’t stay, but I wanted to meet you and thank you for your invitation,” Liu said.
“It would have been an honour to have you as our guest,” Uncle said.
“We’ll have to make it some other time. Peng tells me you are a valued investor in the SEZ.”
“We are impressed with what Premier Deng is trying to accomplish and we feel an obligation to do our part, however small that may be,” Uncle said. “By the way, how should I address you, as Colonel Liu?”
“My name is Liu Leji. My friends call me by either name.”
“I am Chow Tung. My friends call me Uncle.”
“That’s an unusual name for a man so young.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Perhaps you can tell it to me when we have a chance to talk more fully,” Liu said.
“How shall we arrange that?” asked Uncle.
“When do you plan to revisit Shenzhen?”
“I’ll come back when the plant conversion is underway, perhaps in a month or so.”
“Contact my office when you do and we’ll set up an appointment.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
Liu turned away as if he was getting ready to leave, but then he swivelled back. “You speak excellent Mandarin for a Hong Kong native,” he said.
“I was born in China.”
“Where?”
“In a village near Wuhan, in Hubei province.”
“When did you leave?”
“In 1959.”
Liu nodded. “The time of Mao Zedong’s Great Leap Forward.”
“Yes, exactly that time.”
“My uncle stood alongside Deng Xiaoping during those years. He and Deng were removed from their positions at almost the same moment.”
“Your uncle?” Uncle said, feigning ignorance.
“My uncle is Liu Huning. He’s now the sixth-ranked member of the Politburo Standing Committee.”
“That’s very impressive. Did he and Premier Deng find their way back into power together?”
“They have always supported each other,” Liu said, and then glanced at Peng and paused. “That’s history best left for another day. Maybe when we meet we can revisit it, but for now I really must be going.” With that, he put on his cap, nodded, and left.
Uncle waited until Liu was out of sight before saying to Peng, “Let’s go outside for a smoke.”
As part of the celebration, a pack of cigarettes and a silver-plated lighter engraved with the date and the Ming factory name had been left at every seat. Peng brandished his as he lit a Panda-brand cigarette. Uncle lit a Marlboro with his old Zippo.
“What are your impressions of Liu?” Peng asked.
“Like you, he’s a man to be taken seriously,” Uncle said, hoping the flattery wasn’t too obvious.
“We’re big fish here, but only minnows compared to a man like his uncle.”
“Is the uncle close to Deng?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“And Liu is obviously close to his uncle.”
“He wouldn’t have got this appointment otherwise.”
Uncle took a deep drag, then raised his head to blow smoke into the night air. “As I remember, you told me that Liu’s uncle’s wife is a partner in the brokerage company.”
“She and Liu’s wife own a numbered company registered in Hong Kong. The company owns the brokerage.”
“How did you manage to unearth that information?”
“I paid for it. Obviously we’re not supposed to know. I suspect it could be dangerous if they knew we were aware of it.”
“Thanks for that advice.”
“I was speaking for myself as much as I was warning you.”
“How about Lau?” Uncle asked. “I might have screwed up earlier by hinting that I know money has changed hands between the two of you.”
“He knows where the money originated and he knows what it was intended to accomplish. I didn’t tell him that you know he’s taking it, but he would be an idiot to assume otherwise — and he’s not an idiot.”
“Still, I’ll try to be less obvious in the future.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Peng said.
Uncle threw his butt on the ground, lit another cigarette, dragged on it, and said, “I’ve been thinking about the economic zones in Xiamen, Zhuhai, and Shantou. Is there any business to be done there?”
“You want to expand into those zones already?” Peng asked.
“Not me, but my friends Yin and Tse seem interested in the opportunities presented in those SEZs,” Uncle said. “The question — the big question — is whether or not there are people in positions of power there who are as accommodating as you’ve been here.”
“The short answer to that is yes.”
“And what’s the long answer?”
“I would have to contact each of my colleagues to confirm they’re willing to co-operate, and I would need to make the introductions when the time came.”
“I assume the introductions would come at a price.”
“That’s correct.”
“But a one-time price?”
“Of course,” Peng said.
“That seems reasonable enough. But tell me, how do you know your colleagues will be as helpful as you’ve been?”
“That isn’t something I’m prepared to discuss. You need to take my word for it.”
“I wouldn’t want to place my friends in a compromising position,” Uncle said.
“Have no worries about that.”
“Okay, then I’d appreciate it if you’d make initial contact with your colleagues in Zhuhai and Shantou. If they agree to meet, you might also ask them to prepare a list of local companies they think could benefit from an inflow of foreign capital.”
“I’ll do that. But what about Xiamen?”
“I’m thinking it would be a good fit for my associate Xu, but I’d like to talk to him before making any commitment on his behalf.”
“Uncle, you are a very thoughtful man,” Peng said. “When Liu asked me to describe you, those were the first words that came to mind.”
“People who think only about themselves eventually end up alone,” Uncle said. “I value my friends and try to put their interests at the same level as my own.”
“That is a rare quality here in China. All that matters is the Party and family, and seldom do the interests of the two match.”
Peng had said that casually, but Uncle knew it would be foolish to get into a discussion about the Communist Party. “We’re beginning to get philosophical. Perhaps that’s a sign we’ve had a bit too much to drink,” he said, then looked at his watch. “I have a train to catch in about an hour. I should try to clear my head before heading to the station.”
( 10 )
December 1981
The outfitting of Ming Garment Factory Number Two went much more quickly than anyone had anticipated. By late October the interior had been refurbished and was ready for equipment installation. In mid-December nearly all the equipment was in place and Ming was ready to do some trial runs. He invited Uncle, Fong, and whomever else they wanted to bring with them to observe. If all went well, Ming would start hiring the staff he needed to put the plant into full produc
tion.
Uncle hadn’t been back to Shenzhen since the ceremony in September. He trusted Ming to stick to the budget and the schedule they’d set, but he had still assigned Fong to supervise the project. To Uncle’s satisfaction, Fong had taken the responsibility very seriously, making several trips a week to Shenzhen. From all indications he had established an excellent working relationship with Ming.
Under normal circumstances, Uncle would have asked Xu to be his eyes and ears in Shenzhen, but Xu was preoccupied with trying to establish a foothold in Xiamen. Uncle didn’t want him to spread either his energy or his attention too thin.
After the celebratory dinner at the Emerald Dragon, Peng hadn’t wasted any time contacting his peers in Xiamen, Shantou, and Zhuhai. They all shared the same problem of not yet enough industrial investments and were eager to talk to anyone willing to put money into their SEZs — and, although it was left unsaid, into their pockets. Peng had set up separate meetings in each zone. He and Uncle attended them all to act as short-term intermediaries. Tse and the economic development director in Zhuhai hit it off, as did Xu with the official in Xiamen. It didn’t go so well for Yin in Shantou, and he had decided to stay out for the time being. Uncle didn’t pursue it any further, figuring that the results in Shenzhen, Zhuhai, and Xiamen would prove how realistic his hopes were.
Uncle checked his watch and saw that they’d be leaving for the train station in less than fifteen minutes. He opened the file that contained the production numbers from Ming Garment Factory Number One and smiled. The combination of the new equipment they had installed and better raw materials had indeed tripled the factory’s output. What was particularly encouraging was that they had no problem selling the goods; in fact, demand had kept growing and far exceeded their current capacity. It was a trend that would need to continue once the second factory was fully operating. With that thought in mind, Uncle reached for the phone.
“Yes, boss,” Fong answered. “Are you ready to leave for Shenzhen?”
“In a few minutes. Come by my office first.”
