Foresight

by Ian Hamilton

  “Would you make the denim at the factory?” Uncle asked.

  “No, that’s quite a specialized job. We don’t have the expertise, and even if we did we’d need equipment that I’m not sure we could get our hands on,” Ming said. “Where we are lucky is that most of the good denim is made in Japan. I’ve found three manufacturers who are prepared to sell to us as long as we pay in American dollars. Initially, of course, it would be cash up front.”

  “So we’d be running a cutting and sewing operation?” Fong asked.

  “Primarily.”

  “Which means our equipment costs will be minimal,” said Fong.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing your numbers. If they’re good, agreeing to build Ming Garment Factory Number Three doesn’t sound like a hard decision to make,” Uncle said.

  “They’re very good,” Ming said.

  Uncle smiled at his enthusiasm. “Who would have thought when we started that you’d end up with an empire.”

  “And who would have thought a few years ago that Shenzhen would look like this now,” Ming said, gesturing out the window.

  Uncle glanced right and left at the factories and apartment buildings standing on land that had been farms when he made his first trip to meet Ming. Now only about a kilometre of farmland remained between the outer edge of the city and Ming’s factories, and Uncle assumed the speed and scale of development would soon swallow that up.

  Two hours later they were on the road again, heading north to the Pearl Boat restaurant. The mood in the car was almost celebratory. After reviewing Ming’s plans and budget, Uncle gave his go-ahead for Ming Garment Factory Number Three. The quick decision had surprised Fong, who was accustomed to a more deliberate Uncle.

  It had all boiled down to two questions. “Are you confident that you can sell the volume of jeans that Ming says he can produce?” Uncle had asked Fong.

  “If he can produce them at the costs he’s projecting, I’ll sell them all.”

  “And Ming, are those finished goods costs realistic?”

  “I swear to you, Uncle, if anything, I’ve inflated them. I think I can actually come in lower.”

  “Then start construction as soon as you can,” Uncle had said.

  Uncle sat quietly during the ride, his mind focused on the meeting ahead. Fong and Ming chatted the entire time, which suited him perfectly. They reached the restaurant at ten to twelve and saw that Liu’s government car was already parked outside.

  “Do you want me to wait for you?” Ming asked.

  “No, we’ll catch a taxi back to the border,” Uncle said.

  “When will I see you again?”

  “I’ll be here tomorrow,” Fong said. “I want to get started working on the new factory with you.”

  “And I’m not sure, but it won’t be as long an absence as last time,” Uncle said as he climbed out of the car.

  Uncle and Fong walked to the restaurant entrance. “Business has picked up,” Uncle said as he looked inside and saw that many of the tables were occupied.

  “They’ve finished building the apartments,” Fong said, pointing across the street.

  They were met by a hostess who was coolly businesslike until Uncle mentioned the name Gao. “I’ll take you directly to their private dining room,” she said, suddenly more welcoming.

  The door to the dining room was closed when they reached it. The hostess knocked and waited. Seconds later Liu opened the door and greeted Uncle and Fong with a huge smile on his face. “Welcome, my friends,” he said.

  Ms. Gao and Meilin sat next to each other on the further side of the round table. They nodded at Uncle but didn’t get up. He walked around the table and shook their hands gently. Ms. Gao had a pile of papers in front of her. Uncle pointed at them. “I assume we’re going to continue the discussion we were having before we were so rudely interrupted,” he said.

  Ms. Gao laughed in a light, almost girlish way, and its tenor caught Uncle off guard. “It’s so good to see you again, Uncle. I’ve been worrying about you,” she said.

  “I was sitting safely in Fanling, but I have to admit I was doing some worrying myself. I don’t like uncertainty.”

  “That’s a trait we share,” she said.

  “We’ve taken the liberty of ordering food to be brought in at one o’clock,” Liu said. “We thought that would give us enough time to review the new warehouse proposals.”

  Uncle had thought that Peng might be the first topic, but seeing how relaxed the attitude in the room seemed, he guessed that Peng had already been scrubbed from memory. For the next hour they reviewed the plans for the coming year. Their cash flow was strong enough to enable them to build two new warehouses, and maybe even three.

  “What do you think, two or three?” Ms. Gao asked Uncle.

  “I don’t like to put too much stress on our capital. I would be more comfortable if we maintained a healthy reserve.”

  “I agree, so let’s go with two. Are you okay with that, Leji?”

  “That’s fine. Now we need to decide where to build them. We have seven possible sites,” Liu said, spreading a map across the table.

  Ms. Gao stood up. “If you don’t mind, Leji, I’ll let you start with Meilin and Fong. I need a few private moments with Uncle.”

  Even though Liu had mentioned she wanted to meet with him alone, the timing somewhat surprised Uncle.

  “We can work on this without you,” Liu said.

  Ms. Gao smiled at Uncle. “You and I will find a quiet spot in the restaurant.”

  He followed her from the room. She made a quick right turn and walked directly to a table in the corner. As soon as she sat down, a server hurried towards them with a pot of tea and two cups. This was preplanned, Uncle thought.

  “I hope you don’t mind doing this,” she said. “I have something I want to discuss with you that is quite personal.”

  “It isn’t a problem, Ms. Gao.”

  “Please call me Lan. ‘Ms. Gao’ makes me feel old. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for ages.”

  “I’ve never thought of you as old,” Uncle said. “And I’ll be pleased to call you Lan.”

  “I have to say, you’ve never been what I expected,” she said. She sipped tea, her eyes never leaving Uncle’s. “When Leji suggested that we get into business with you, I was very reluctant. But he insisted that I meet you and that I’d find you look and act nothing like my idea of a triad. He was correct, of course, but I still had reservations that took more time to resolve. Now they finally are, and I have to compliment my nephew on his initial judgement that you are worthy of our trust.”

  “That’s kind of you to say.”

  “You won’t find many people who think I’m the least bit kind,” she said. “I have a reputation as a hard, unfeeling woman. The truth is, I very often am that kind of woman, but if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have survived the trials and tribulations of being my husband’s wife.”

  “I’ve read about Premier Deng’s life, and from what Leji told me about your husband, his seems to have run parallel.”

  “Xiaoping and Huning met during the Long March. Zhou Enlai brought them together. They remained loyal to him and to each other, which means they enjoyed success and failure in almost equal measure.”

  “Surely what matters most is that this recent chapter has the makings of a grand success.”

  “It’s too soon to tell, but the early signs are certainly positive,” she said, and then waved her hand in that dismissive way now familiar to Uncle. “But enough about my husband. He’s not the reason I want to talk to you.”

  “What is?”

  “Money.”

  “You want to move some out of our accounts?”

  “Yes. Not a huge amount, but this business with Peng has made me nervous about accessing it. We have a
bank in Hong Kong that we could have used as a conduit, but I heard through a confidential source that Peng used the same bank for some of his activities. That disqualifies it in my mind.”

  “I think that’s a wise decision.”

  “That may be true, but it leaves me without a bank. I’m hoping that you might be able to help me in that regard,” she said.

  “What is it you want the bank to do, other than to be a depository for your money?”

  “I still want to buy a house in Hong Kong, but I can’t be identified as the owner. I need a bank that can help me work around the system.”

  Uncle nodded but said nothing as he calculated how close he wanted to get to this woman. What the hell, we’re in this deep, he finally thought. “I think my bank might suit your needs.”

  It was her turn to hesitate, and he imagined she was going through the same thought process. “Your bank can accommodate the kind of privacy I’d need?”

  “We own the bank. It’s Kowloon Light Industrial, where we hold the company accounts,” he said.

  “You own that bank?”

  “Not me personally, but my organization owns a piece of it and other triad organizations have shares. Together we own enough to control it,” Uncle said. “But I have to stress that we’ve always allowed it to operate independently, as a proper bank. No one knows anyone else’s business. The president, John Tin, is a man of the highest integrity who knows how to keep his mouth shut and protect his customers.”

  “Integrity is fine, but as I said, I need someone to help me work around the system.”

  “John is a creative banker. His integrity is rooted in his devotion to his customers, not to the banking rules of Hong Kong or anywhere else. If you want to buy a house anonymously, I can’t think of anyone better to help you. He’s also very adept at moving money offshore if you ever have that need.”

  “Will you make the introductions?”

  “Of course. Just let me know when you want to meet him.”

  “Could you set up something for tomorrow?”

  “If he’s in Kowloon, I’m sure I can. I’ll call him later. Do you want me to go with you?”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “How will you get to the Hong Kong side? Will you drive or take the train?”

  “The train.”

  “Then get off in Fanling. I’ll meet you there and we’ll drive the rest of the way together.”

  “Assuming that your banker is in Kowloon tomorrow, I think we have a date.”

  ( 23 )

  It was almost five o’clock before Fong and Uncle made their way back to the border crossing. Lunch had been a long, drawn-out affair, with course after course served at a leisurely pace.

  “This is more like a banquet than a lunch,” Uncle had said at one point.

  “Well, there are things to celebrate,” Liu said. “After that unscheduled hiatus, our business is moving forward again, and in six months we’ll have two new warehouses up and running.”

  Several times during lunch Uncle referred to Ms. Gao as Lan, and every time it drew curious stares from the others. “I told Uncle that from now on I want him to call me Lan,” she finally said, and then turned to Fong. “But that doesn’t apply to you.”

  “I never imagined that it would, Ms. Gao,” Fong said.

  At three Uncle excused himself and used the restaurant phone to call John Tin. He was in Kowloon, and an appointment was set up for Ms. Gao for the next day at one. He passed her a note with that information when he returned. She nodded and smiled.

  When lunch ended, the five of them made their way to the street. Liu’s driver brought his car over to the curb. Before she got in, Ms. Gao touched Uncle lightly on the arm. “Where can I reach you in the morning?”

  “I’ll be in my office by eight o’clock.”

  “I’ll call before I head to the train station.”

  “Talk to you then,” Uncle said.

  “What was that about?” Fong asked as the car drove off.

  “Ms. Gao — Lan — has decided that she and I are going to be friends.”

  “Better you than me,” Fong said.

  Uncle smiled and checked his watch. “I should call Wang to let him know we’re on our way back. He was worried about us coming here.”

  “They don’t have pay phones here,” Fong said.

  “I’ll go inside. It won’t take long. See if you can flag down a cab.”

  It took longer than he’d thought to persuade the restaurant manager to let him use the phone again, but eventually two hundred Hong Kong dollars did the trick. Uncle dialled Wang’s number, half expecting to reach his answering machine, but on the second ring the Red Pole picked up. “Wei,” he said.

  “This is Uncle. Fong and I are getting ready to leave Shenzhen. We should be home in a couple of hours.”

  “Please get here as fast as you can, and come directly to the office,” Wang said, his voice rising.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Wu took one of our men off the street, cut his throat, and threw his body from a car in front of our office,” Wang said. “Luckily we got the body inside before anyone called the police.”

  “How do you know Wu did this?”

  “Our man had a note pinned to his shirt.”

  “What did it say?”

  “No one tells Tai Wai New Village how or where to do business.”

  “Wu is a stupid asshole,” Uncle said, and then paused before asking, “How have you responded so far?”

  “I contacted the rest of the executive committee to tell them what had happened and told them all to be on standby for a meeting when you get back.”

  “Good. That was exactly the right thing to do. We don’t want to overreact. This is a time to think first and act later.”

  “But, Uncle, we can’t take this lying down. They have to pay for this.”

  “And they will, but we have to be clever about how we do it,” said Uncle. “Our response needs to be geared to bringing an end to the conflict, not escalating it.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Nothing yet, but I have a couple of hours to mull it over, and I’ll see what Fong thinks,” he said. “We should be in Fanling by seven. Call the executive and tell them to meet us at the office at eight.”

  “Okay.”

  “One last thing. Who did they kill?”

  “Lam.”

  “If I remember correctly, he was initiated a year ago.”

  “That’s him.”

  “Was he married?”

  “No.”

  “And no children?”

  “No.”

  “I was about to say that’s a blessing, but he was so young, the fact that those things are denied him now actually makes it more tragic.”

  “Uncle, we need to get those fuckers,” Wang said, his rage becoming more evident.

  “I know we do,” Uncle said. He paused again. “Fong and I will see you at eight.”

  Uncle left the restaurant to find Fong standing by a taxi. “There’s a problem in Fanling,” Uncle said quickly. “Wu killed one of our men, Lam. Wang is scheduling an executive meeting for eight o’clock.”

  “What the fuck!” Fong said.

  “I know, Wu just won’t back off. We’re going to have to send him a message that will stick,” Uncle said. “Now let’s get to the border as fast as we can.”

  They climbed into the back seat of the taxi. “We’re in a hurry,” Fong said to the driver. “Take every shortcut you know, and don’t be afraid to speed or cut corners. I’ll give you a big tip when we get to the border.”

  Uncle turned to stare out the car window. Fong looked at him, noted the clenched jaw and rigid body, and knew he was seething. He had seen Uncle like this three or four times before, watching as he converted hi
s anger into a calculated plan of action. Nothing seemed to scare him, nothing intimidated him, and no one person or gang could push him around. Fong sat back. This wasn’t a time for him to speak. When Uncle had something to say, he’d say it. Until then, Fong knew he should be quiet.

  The taxi driver took Fong’s instructions to heart and raced through Shenzhen. Somehow he avoided an accident, didn’t attract police attention, and came to a stop at the border crossing only twenty minutes after leaving the restaurant. Fong paid the fare and tipped him two hundred HK dollars.

  When Uncle and Fong got out of the cab, they found the border quieter than it had been in the morning. In a matter of minutes they were handing their paperwork to a Chinese immigration officer. Uncle watched intently as the officer looked at his permit and Liu’s pass. He waited for them to be passed back, but instead the officer picked up a piece of paper from his desk, read it, and said, “Could you come with me to the immigration office? There’s something I need to clarify.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, I just need to sort out something.”

  Uncle hesitated, but he knew he had no other choice but to say, “Sure, I’ll come with you.”

  Fong hadn’t cleared Immigration yet and was close enough to hear the conversation. “Can I go with my friend?” he asked the officer.

  “There’s no need,” the officer said.

  “Maybe not, but I’d like to all the same.”

  “No, you can’t. Is that plain enough?”

  “There’s no point in arguing,” Uncle said to Fong. “I’ll meet you at the taxi in a few minutes.”

  ( 24 )

  It was a short walk to the one-storey brick office. The officer stood to one side to let Uncle enter first. Directly in front of him was a desk that ran from wall to wall. On either side of the desk were rows of benches on which sat several glum-looking men.

  “Take a seat,” the officer said.

  Uncle did as he was asked and watched the officer go around the desk and into an office behind it. Maybe they’re calling Liu to make sure the pass is legitimate, he thought, struggling to stay calm. Time passed slowly, five minutes seeming like fifteen. When the officer finally reappeared, he was accompanied by a man with a captain’s insignias on his jacket. The captain caught Uncle’s attention and motioned for him to join them. When Uncle approached, the captain said, “You can wait in my office.”