by Ian Hamilton
“Whether he agreed or not, they were going to talk to him. The guy I spoke to said they conned him into it,” Liu said. “Even though they knew he was going to get the death penalty, the People’s Court prosecutors told Peng they would recommend a prison term. They told him they were thinking of between ten and fifteen years, but if he co-operated with the military, they’d recommend ten.”
“That is cold-blooded.”
“As I said, a lot of people want him out of the way. And not all for the same reason, which I suspect has made his survival all the more tenuous.”
“How much time will the military have with him?”
“He left the courtroom in military custody and they’ll return him on Friday. Believe me, that’s time enough for those guys to get everything out of him.”
“And if he is sentenced on Friday, how soon will it be carried out?” Uncle asked, still processing the cruelty of it all.
“He’ll be allowed to appeal, but that’s a formality. I’d guess he won’t be with us by two weeks from now.”
“He doesn’t deserve that type of punishment.”
“Then he shouldn’t have made a spectacle of his corruption when so much depends on the reputation and success of the special economic zones.”
“I can’t argue that he wasn’t foolish,” Uncle said.
“Anyway, soon enough we can stop worrying about Peng and get on with building our business,” Liu said. “I’ll stay in touch, and if anything happens that impacts us, you’ll be the first to know.”
“You mean I’ll know before your aunt?”
Liu paused. “Perhaps not, but I’m sure you’ll understand if that’s the case.”
“I will,” Uncle said, and hung up the phone.
He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. As tough as triads could be, they were at least bound by the Thirty-Six Oaths, which gave them a common code of behaviour. The PLA didn’t seem to have any code at all. How is this going to end? he thought, just as his phone rang again. He picked it up. “Wei?”
“This is Wu. My housekeeper said you called.”
“I did, but I didn’t give her my name,” Uncle said, his surprise evident.
“She worked for Lo before me. She recognized your voice.”
“Then thank her for remembering me,” Uncle said. “I was calling to tell you that your man in hospital is out of danger.”
“That’s supposed to make me happy?”
“If it was my man it would.”
“Fuck you, Uncle.”
Uncle sighed as he realized this was going to be a difficult conversation. “I don’t understand why you have that attitude.”
“Your people put him there.”
“Only because you refused to respect our boundaries,” said Uncle. “I told you how we would react if you tried to do business in Fanling. As I think you know, I’m a man of my word.”
“I’m a man of my word as well,” Wu said. “And let me tell you, this isn’t over.”
“Threatening us isn’t going to — ” Uncle began, and then stopped short as the line went dead.
( 21 )
Peng was executed two weeks later.
Uncle was leaving his apartment to go to Jia’s for breakfast when his phone rang. He rarely got calls that early, and when he did, they invariably brought bad news, so it was with a slight hesitation that he said, “Wei.”
“This is Liu. I apologize for calling so early, but I thought you’d like to know that they shot Peng this morning at sunrise.”
“How did you find out?”
“My contact in the prosecutor’s office phoned me with the news.”
“So finally it’s done,” Uncle said.
“Yes. It has been a difficult wait, but now it’s over.”
“And there’s no indication that an investigation is still ongoing, that they’re looking at other people who might have been implicated by Peng?” Uncle asked.
“My contact said — quite forcibly and without any prompting on my part — that the book is completely closed.”
“That’s very good to hear,” said Uncle. “I’m meeting Fong for breakfast. He’ll want to know when it will be safe for him to travel to Shenzhen.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s safe now. The passes I arranged for him and you are still valid?”
“I believe so.”
“Then he should have no concerns, and I don’t think you should either.”
“I’ll let you know when we decide to come over,” said Uncle.
“That’s fine. When I spoke to my aunt, she hinted that she might be going to Shenzhen in a few days. If she does, it makes sense to co-ordinate schedules.”
“She’d come back that soon?” Uncle asked, making a mental note that Liu’s aunt had indeed been the first person he called.
“Why not? There’s no reason for her not to come,” Liu said. “I know she feels our expansion plans have been on hold long enough. She’s anxious to get started again.”
“So are we. I’ll talk to Fong about when he thinks he can get there.”
“Are you implying that you’ll just send him, that you won’t be with him?”
“Our plan was always that he be the first to test those waters.”
“Even though I’m telling you I don’t think you have any reason to be worried?”
“I don’t doubt you, Leji, but I am a cautious man, and I still have memories of being put in that cage at the station.”
There was a pause. Uncle sensed that Liu thought he was being difficult.
“But Uncle, if my aunt does come to Shenzhen, she’ll expect to meet with both of you. And of course Meilin and I would be there as well. In a sense we’d be restarting our last meeting, but this time on a better footing.”
“I realize that’s logical — ”
“And there’s one more thing,” Liu interrupted. “My aunt wants to meet with you privately. She does want to move money from the warehouse bank accounts, but she prefers that the discussion take place with you alone. As cautious as you are, she is at least your match.”
Uncle shook his head. He had no proof that anything Liu had said was untrue, and he couldn’t argue that for all of them to meet together didn’t make sense. To continue resisting would make it appear that Uncle was either cowardly or didn’t trust Liu. Neither was an outcome Uncle wanted. “Okay,” he said finally. “Finalize your aunt’s schedule for her trip to Shenzhen. When that’s done, set up a meeting. Fong and I will be there.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Liu said.
Uncle put down the phone. The past two weeks had been excruciatingly full of worry. The worrying had begun when Peng did not make an appearance in court on the Friday after his plea. Liu had reported that he was still being held by the PLA, and he made the same report for the next five days. Every day added to Uncle’s unease. What were the military interrogators asking Peng about? What was Peng telling them? Those two questions grew in intensity with each passing day. He tried to follow his normal routine and to hide from Fong and his executive team any anxiety he felt, but he had snapped at Liu on a couple of occasions, demanding to know why Liu couldn’t get more accurate information.
Liu had someone observing in court when Peng finally made his return. “They broke him,” he said. “My man said he could barely lift his head, and when he spoke, it was in a whisper. Even when they sentenced him to death, there was barely any reaction from him.”
“Do we have any idea what he might have told them?”
“It couldn’t have been much, because they didn’t amend the charges against him. He was convicted of betraying his civilian office for personal gain, taking bribes in exchange for favours, and corrupting other public officials, but there wasn’t a word about any involvement with military officers or contracts. That’s a very positive sign.”
“Unless you’re Peng, because, positive or not, it isn’t going to make any difference to him.”
“I find your concern for Peng to be misplaced.”
“He was reliable, honest with me, and not a bad man at heart. I admit that he got carried away with having a lot of money for the first time in his life, but in Hong Kong that’s so commonplace it isn’t worth mentioning.”
“This isn’t Hong Kong,” Liu said. “And I don’t think Peng is a subject worth addressing anymore.”
“I agree, but he still has an appeal left, does he not?”
“It will be held early next week, but he has no chance of getting the sentence changed,” Liu said.
That turned out to be true, and it had come down to waiting for the sentence to be carried out. It wasn’t something Uncle thought about constantly, but every now and then an image of Peng would pop into his head, of him sitting in a cell. What was going through his mind? How did a man prepare himself for a death that was preordained? Did the seconds race by like hours? Did any part of the life he’d already lived have a single shred of meaning? Now it was over, and despite Liu’s attitude that it was time to get back to business as usual, Uncle knew that a little piece of Peng would continue to reside somewhere in his memory.
He left the apartment to walk to Jia’s. The summer humidity had given way to more moderate heat and drier days, and he was taking advantage of them to walk as much as possible. He stopped at the newsstand to buy the Oriental Daily News before continuing on his way. As he neared the restaurant, he saw Fong approaching from the opposite direction. He waved, but Fong didn’t notice him. Uncle smiled. It was perverse of him to schedule early morning meetings with the night owl Fong, but being Mountain Master gave him certain prerogatives, and deciding when and where to hold meetings was one of them.
“Hey, boss,” Fong mumbled as they met at the entrance to Jia’s.
“Sorry to drag you out so early, but as it turns out, the timing is perfect,” Uncle said. “I just finished talking to Liu. Peng was executed this morning, and the family wants to get back to work in Shenzhen. Ms. Gao intends to go there in the next few days, and we’re expected to join her.”
“Poor Peng,” Fong said.
“I know. I feel much the same way, but as far as Liu Leji is concerned, it’s good riddance, and I’m not about to argue with him.”
They entered the restaurant and walked towards Uncle’s regular booth in the back. As soon as they sat down, Jia appeared with a pot of tea and another of hot water. She poured their first cups. “Same as usual, Uncle?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
“And I’ll have whatever Uncle is having,” Fong said.
When Jia had left, Fong leaned towards Uncle. “Are you serious about crossing the border so soon? I thought we were going to wait. I thought we’d see how it goes with me first.”
“If we want to maintain a strong relationship with the Liu family, I don’t think we have much choice. I don’t want to offend Ms. Gao.”
Fong nodded. “Then let’s at least change it up a bit. Let’s take a taxi to the border this time. We can clear Customs and Immigration and walk across.”
“That isn’t a bad idea.”
“I’ll get Ming to meet us on the other side. Do you want to schedule some time with him? He’s really eager to talk about building another factory.”
“We can talk to him in the car. You can tell him to come prepared to do that, but let’s not plan anything else until we know when and where the Lius want to meet,” Uncle said. “I may be ready to go to Shenzhen, but I’m not prepared to spend more than a day there. We go back and forth on the same day or I’m staying in Fanling.”
( 22 )
Uncle and Fong left Fanling just after eight for the trip to the Chinese border. They were in a green New Territories taxi, a common sight at the border, and the driver was an old friend of Fong’s.
It was three days since Liu had told Uncle about Peng’s death and about Ms. Ko’s desire to quickly re-immerse herself in the business. He hadn’t been exaggerating about his aunt. She and Meilin had flown into Shenzhen the night before and, along with Liu, would be meeting Uncle and Fong at the Pearl Boat at noon. Uncle wasn’t sure that going back to the restaurant where they had first learned about Peng and Lau was good luck, but he hadn’t raised the subject.
Though it was only a half-hour drive to the border, Fong had insisted they leave early. Traffic was heavy and slightly chaotic; cars coming from China, where they drove on the right-hand side of the road, had to move across several lanes to get to the left-hand side, which was the standard for Hong Kong. They hit heavy traffic about a kilometre from the border and then inched forward for about half that distance before coming to a full stop.
“We’ll walk from here,” Fong said to the driver, and then pointed over to the right. “There’s a taxi stand on the other side. Be there by six and have your occupied light on. Don’t leave, even if we’re a couple of hours late.”
Uncle and Fong got out of the taxi and saw they weren’t the only people who intended to walk across the border. Uncle reached into his suit jacket pocket and fingered his permit and the pass that Liu had given him. It was the third time he’d checked that morning.
“This isn’t too bad,” Fong said. “They move pedestrians through quickly.”
They got into a long line that fed into six booths, and shuffled forward. In less than ten minutes Uncle found himself in front of an immigration officer. Rather self-consciously he handed the agent his permit and the pass Liu had issued. The agent stared at the pass, then opened the booklet.
“How long do you expect to stay in Shenzhen?” the agent asked.
“Just today. I’ll be returning to Hong Kong tonight.”
“Enjoy your day,” the agent said, passing the documents back to Uncle.
Fong was ahead of Uncle and his processing had been as speedy. He was waiting with Ming next to Ming’s new Mercedes-Benz. He raised an eyebrow at Uncle. “That seemed easy enough,” he said.
“Liu’s pass hasn’t lost its effect,” Uncle said, and then smiled at Ming. If Uncle hadn’t known about his transformation, he would never have recognized the factory owner. Ming had a proper haircut, his teeth had been repaired, and he wore only designer clothing — some of it knock-off, of course, but not all. He had also put on about ten kilos.
“I was telling Fong that it’s so good to see you two again,” Ming said. “I was beginning to worry that you’d forgotten about me. I mean, Fong phoned me quite often, but it isn’t the same as being with old friends.”
“Certain matters kept us on the Hong Kong side,” Uncle said.
“Did it have anything to do with Peng?”
“You know about him?” asked Uncle.
“We just found out, and that’s the only thing many of us have been talking about today. It was a shock to learn he’d been arrested, and almost unbelievable to hear that he’d already been tried, convicted, and shot.”
“Chinese justice is swift,” Uncle said.
Ming waved a hand in the air. “Chinese justice is shit. Once a man is arrested for anything he’s as good as convicted. The police and the army never make a mistake, according to the way judges make decisions.”
“Since I’ve had no experience with Chinese justice, I’m not in a position to comment,” Uncle said. “But tell me, how did you find out about his arrest and execution?”
“Some officials attached to the People’s Court called various businessmen to tell them.”
“Why would they do that?”
“They were sending a message.”
“What kind of message?”
‘Uncle, I’ve never asked you directly if you cut a deal with Peng or what kind of deal it might be, and I’m not asking now. It’s enough for me that the officials told us the next time they fin
d corruption on this scale, they’ll punish the bribe givers as much as the bribe takers.”
“We’ve never bribed anyone, Ming, so you should have no concerns on that account,” Uncle said.
“We have a few hours before we have to be at the Pearl Boat. How would you like to spend the time, Uncle?” Fong interrupted, none too subtly changing the subject.
“What do you suggest?”
“We have time to visit the factories, get up to date, and perhaps look at Ming’s proposal for expansion.”
“Let’s do that, and on the way maybe Ming can start explaining what he has in mind.”
“I’d be pleased to,” Ming said.
The Mercedes smelled of new leather. “How long have you had the car?” Uncle asked as he slid into the rear seat.
“I picked it up last week, and this is its first real outing. You’ll have to excuse me if I drive a bit slowly. The drivers around here don’t care if they hit someone. In fact, most of them just keep going, if they can.”
“Drive at any speed you want. I’m more concerned about arriving safely than quickly,” Uncle said.
Ming eased into traffic and headed for the city. As the traffic around them thinned, he turned his head briefly towards Uncle and said, “I’ve prepared a written plan for the new factory for you to review. I’d build it next to our existing ones, and we can use the same basic construction. I figure it will pay for itself in less than a year.”
“You aren’t concerned about flooding the shirt market?”
“I don’t want to make shirts there. A while ago Fong mentioned that designer jeans are a hot item and are selling for big prices. Since then I’ve been researching them. I believe we can copy just about any brand you can name — and make them for a twentieth of what some of them are selling for in Hong Kong stores.”
“You haven’t discussed this with Fong?”
“Not in any detail until now. I wanted to get my facts in order.”
“Ming is right about the jeans market,” Fong said. “It is hot, the volumes are large, and the profit margins are huge. Our customers would be climbing over each other to buy them.”
