by Mike Coony
Before I said anything, Earl put his hands up – like in the movies when the baddy with the black hat surrenders to the lawman in the white hat. “Yes Vinnie, Sui-Lin was reporting directly back to your Uncle Angelo…on his instructions. Blame it on too many cooks in the kitchen, or everyone just trying too hard to help. Whatever….But involving the Snakeheads was a monumental screw-up. OK?”
I couldn’t agree more. I’ll fill Finn in on the Sui-Lin Rodriguez situation…and let him decide what to do about her.
45
HONG KONG
I broke my own rule by involving myself and the Sun Yat Sun with gweilos problems. I have only myself to blame for the mess this is going to create.
Finn Flynn is bringing in a Provisional IRA assassin. Do these gweilos think we need their help to eliminate twenty overweight Russians? Finn Flynn has proven himself to be a man with balls; he is smart, discreet and fearless – I know these things for myself. But what of his friend? The IRA has its share of hotheads, men who are out of control and willing to kill innocent people in pursuit of their vain victories. I shall demand to meet this friend before he causes mischief here and brings the meddling authorities down on our heads.
If we deal with the Russians quickly – or I should say, if two IRA men revenge Finn’s loss in a timely manner – the Russian prostitutes will be working the Macau Grand Prix motor race for me. I will offer my fullest assistance and cooperation to Finn and his friend. I will supply the weapons, transport and operatives needed to rid us of the Russians. After all, it would be rude not too. Yes?
Yet, many things puzzle me about the killing of the English woman with the big bosoms. How did the Russians learn of Finn Flynn’s involvement with the Russian child? Even if the Snakeheads talked, how could the Russians locate Finn’s home and kill his lady friend so soon after their associates were executed in Moscow? What if it was not the Russians? Could it have been the blood-crazed Protestants from Finn’s own country, seeking vengeance for something he did to them? This is possible.
I know almost nothing about the English woman, but she was married to Fran Cooke – the journalist who put his nose into a hornets’ nest and got stung. He caused a great many people to lose a great deal of money, and those Malay people are so emotional when they lose a great deal of money. If they are responsible for the English woman’s death, that raises two questions. Why kill her when she was no longer with the meddling journalist? And how did they find her?
The 14K Triad also lost out when Fran Cooke exposed the Clarrion Group and George Han. This brings to mind Finn Flynn’s gambling stockbroker friend, Paul Wills. The 14K took over Paul’s gambling debt, but he could not pay them with cash money. For a time, he was paying with insider information on George Han’s share trades; once Han stopped buying shares, Paul was no longer able to pay anything. The 14K is racking up interest on the debt, and Paul owes them over one million dollars. This puts him in great danger. So, what service does he do for the 14K now?
Something does not smell right, and I have always trusted my nose over anyone’s opinion. I shall not mention my thoughts to Finn, Vincenzo or Earl, but I will look for my own answers. My granddaughter, May-Li, speaks with the son of a 14K Red Pole. I will not approach him directly, but May-Li may request a meeting.
But now, let us pin tails to these Russian dogs. My men tell me that when they are not drinking like greedy fish, eating like pigs, or raping their own women, they like to gamble. Our people in the casinos will report whenever one of the Russians enters the building. And those who frequent the underground gambling dens will be easily found. The Sun Yat Sun controls nine out of ten of these; we allow the 14K to run the other ones, and they do not cater for gweilos.
———
I met Nakita Sylvina, the daughter of Vincenzo’s woman. She speaks a few words of Chinese and English. I think she is a bright girl who will grow up to be a credit to her mother. My men will keep mother and daughter safe in the Cheung Chau mansion; it was built as a safe haven for a disreputable man.
This disreputable man made his fortune off the misfortune of others – by loaning money to poor people and forcing them to repay him ten times the amount they borrowed. My Mountain Master predecessor suggested to this man that he invite the Sun Yat Sun to wet our beaks in his pool of prosperity. He foolishly refused, believing that his mansion fortress was beyond our reach.
I was ordered to persuade this dishonourable man to reconsider his decision. I took three Red Pole fighters in a junk and visited him in Cheung Chau. We easily convinced his gatekeeper, a cowardly type, to admit us to the property. When the moneylender refused to listen to reason we wrapped him in the curtains from his windows, carried him to the harbour, and dragged him on board our junk. With the aid of dentists’ tools I persuaded him to sign legal papers transferring his gold at the Po Sang Bank, his savings in the OTB in Sheung Wan, and his mansion in Cheung Chau to a company controlled by the Sun Yat Sun. He also agreed to pay us a monthly due, but then he disappeared.
The Sun Yat Sun took over his outstanding loans and developed his business. We grew it into a legitimate finance company with shares listed on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange. This outcome guaranteed my accession to the position of Mountain Master.
Thanks to the foolish man, our Triad has a source of legitimate money, and a mansion on the island – where a Russian mother and daughter may stay in safety. No men alive will convince my gatekeepers to admit them without my knowledge and approval. My gatekeepers would rather die.
———
Finn has requested a very public killing, to send a message back to Moscow not to send replacements to Macau. I will agree to this, but not for the reason he thinks. Once the Russian pimps are dead, the Sun Yat Sun will step in and take control of the girls. I want the girls so frightened that they will accept the protection of the Sun Yat Sun…then, they will be ours.
We will supply Finn Flynn with hand guns, small arms and automatic rifles from an Israeli shipment that went astray on its way to South Africa. I was able to acquire part of the arms shipment in exchange for a consignment of sophisticated electronic equipment that lost its way en route from Tokyo, Japan to Silicon Valley in the US.
What could Russians killed by Israeli weapons have to do with the IRA or the Sun Yat Sun? The answer must be ‘nothing at all’.
———
Walking on the bund tonight, I see the first preparations under way for the Macau Grand Prix. It is our equivalent of the Monaco Grand Prix, but with less powerful cars. My people will offer security to the racing teams, the dignitaries from the world of motor racing, and the television crews. Expensive cars and equipment can go missing so easily…if the correct people are not taking care of everything.
The bund is changing. Not so long ago it was pleasant to stroll along the broad half-moon walkway that circles the bay of Macau. Now the bund is almost gone, destroyed by the greedy Hong Kong property developers.
The Portuguese colonists built the bund as a reminder of home. It was somewhere to parade each evening and show off their fine clothing…and to present their daughters to the young civil servants strutting like peacocks in their tight pants and silly hats. It was very formal; there were chaperones, and the young senhors were careful not to be too familiar in case they might offend the young ladies’ families.
The same young senhors weren’t so respectful, or reserved, when it came to young Chinese girls. Where were their Portuguese manners when they took these children and made them pregnant, compelling them to give birth to half-caste babies wanted by neither the Portuguese nor the Chinese? Beautiful as these children are, they were ugly reminders of rape to the Chinese, and embarrassing mementos to their Portuguese fathers.
I was the first Mountain Master to permit the descendants of these ‘half-and-half’ people to join the Sun Yat Sun. Membership in a Triad gives the Macanese face in the community, and perhaps this is why they are so loyal and obedient. I will pick only from the Eurasian Macanese Red
Pole fighters to join Finn Flynn; prying eyes could mistake some of these boys and girls for Europeans.
———
In less than fifteen years Hong Kong and Macau will once again be under the foot of Peking, and Triad societies may not survive under Communist rule. I wish to develop new relationships, and form fresh partnerships, with people of influence in other parts of the world.
My beloved Sun Yat Sun has shown the hand of friendship to the Kurdish people, who will soon control the supply of heroin to Europe. But these are not sophisticated people, and it will be generations before they quell their fervour and settle down to a good life of criminality, influence and wealth.
The American Mafia, however, is an organisation we could do business with right now. Vincenzo is my gateway to the US Mafia. When the Russians are dead he will return to his powerful family – people whose friendship I wish to cultivate. I have shown him the hand of friendship, and I gave him my private telephone number to show respect….I also want him to contact me before trying to enter the Cheung Chau mansion.
46
LANTAU ISLAND, CHEUNG CHAU ISLAND and TAIPEI
It surprised me when Uncle Sui gave me a telephone number I can reach him at without going through Eddie. I suppose it’s an honour; maybe he trusts me more than he used to. The whole business of getting Nakita Sylvina out of Moscow probably taught us all a little more about each other.
I called Uncle Sui to ask how I should go about visiting the girls in Cheung Chau. “Vincenzo, I would prefer if you do not make that trip until after the Russians are dealt with. My Red Pole guards are on high alert. They might make a fatal mistake if a gweilo were to attempt to enter the grounds.” When Uncle Sui said that I was a little upset, or pissed off, as Finn would say. But I can’t argue with Uncle Sui, especially since he’s the one protecting people he hardly knows. So I agreed to no contact until after the Russians have gone back to Saint Nicholas…or wherever Russian scumbags go when they die.
Nico called me from Newark Airport in New Jersey to tell me his granny is dying and she’s asking for him; he must’ve smelled something fishy coming down the line. His memory’s not working so great though. I took flowers to his granny’s grave twenty years ago. Good luck to him anyway.
I don’t want to just hang around waiting for the Russians to be taken care of, so I called Earl and suggested that we fly to Taipei. We have to nail down our asset leasing programme with the Taiwanese duck farmers – and get some extra dough in case Finn needs it. Earl’s up for it, so we’re flying out of Hong Kong in the morning.
———
Nakita Sylvina said ‘Finn, Finn’ this morning while I was brushing her hair. I think she is a little in love with him – the father she never had. I pray that she will soon feel the same way about Vincenzo. He has not been to visit since we came to this big scary house, but I am sure it is not his fault.
The Chinese men never smile; they say nothing as they walk around the garden and roam around the house. The men at the gate carry machine guns, and they never stop looking around…as if they are expecting a white bear to jump out at any minute.
I have tried to make this a game for Nakita Sylvina. We’re pretending she’s a princess, and that the men are here to protect her from the pirates who are trying to steal her away before the handsome prince finds her. And bless my little angel, she plays along to make me happy.
Poor Nakita Sylvina has been through so much since leaving Moscow. When she asks if I have I heard from Babushka, I have nothing to tell her. I have written to my mother, but so far I have no reply. This does not worry me yet, as the postal service in Russia can be rubbish, especially in winter. When the snow is deep the post mistress throws the letters in the fire to warm her home, rather than tramping through the snow to deliver them.
This afternoon I will ask one of the Chinese goons guarding the gate to get a note to Uncle Sui. In the note I have asked Uncle Sui when Vincenzo will come to visit me and Nakita Sylvina.
———
The flight’s been bumpy – to put it mildly – and this landing looks like it might be rough. But the rain gives me the perfect excuse to put on my tight-fitting coppola. Vinnie needs to be reminded who he is…where he comes from.
We’re meeting a bank president with billions of dollars in his vaults, and I need Vinnie to have the backbone and the steely eye of a true Cosa Nostra. Our job is to persuade the president to get the suspicious peasant directors of the duck farmers’ bank to lease us their certificates of deposit. I don’t think fast talking will cut it; this man is going to need some serious convincing.
———
We’ve had a lot of turbulence, and it’s raining cats and dogs as we prepare to land in Taipei. I get the feeling that Earl’s a little nervous about landing….
Earl pulled his coppola cap over his eyes as we descended the stairs from the China Airlines jet. The rain is running off his cap, but it doesn’t settle on his shoulders. He’d look right at home in the mountains of Sicily.
As we walk to the limousine, Earl’s strutting across the tarmac of this airport in Taiwan like he owns the joint. I’m reminded of times from my childhood in a small village outside Palermo. I’d be walking hand in hand with my grandfather, and sometimes the children whispered as we passed. I asked Grand Poppa why they said ‘look at the twisted cap’ when they saw him wearing his special tweed hat. “Respect Vincenzo, respect….The coppola is the cap of the Cosa Nostra. We control the lives of their fathers…who have learned to respect us. And the children…they know that they too must show us respect.”
Seeing Earl with the brown tweed cap makes me feel proud to be a Sicilian. I haven’t felt this way for a long time. It doesn’t matter that Earl’s not Sicilian, and probably not a made man…a Cosa Nostra.
———
A pretty Chinese girl came to the house just after lunch. She has dolls and lovely clothes for Nakita Sylvina, and very expensive outfits for me. I thought she was sent by Vincenzo, but I was wrong.
Her name is May-Li, and she is Uncle Sui’s granddaughter. Nakita Sylvina and I met Uncle Sui soon after we came here. He is our generous host, and the man Vincenzo and Finn speak of so highly.
“My grandfather has dealt with these Russians in Macau before. Everything will be fine. But for now, we request that you and Nakita Sylvina remain inside the house, and definitely do not go beyond the gardens.”
“May-Li, please thank your grandfather for the beautiful gifts. And I promise we will not go beyond the gardens. Do you know when Vincenzo will be visiting us?”
“Vincenzo?” She obviously has no idea who I’m talking about. “Is he the IRA man’s friend coming to see my grandfather?”
“You mean Finn Flynn?”
At the mention of Finn’s name May-Li became giggly like a school girl. She’s blushing under her make-up and her cheeks are rosy – just like a Russian girl. “The tall man with the yellow hair? For a gweilo he is very handsome….Don’t you think? My grandfather says he comes from kings of Ireland and Scotland and is a very brave man…but foolish with women.”
“Yes…that’s Finn Flynn. He brought my Nakita Sylvina here, all the way from Moscow. I think she is a little in love with him, like a daughter for her father. He was very kind to her on the journey. Did you meet Anna, Finn’s girl from Sweden? Nakita Sylvina never stops talking about her. She says that Finn will marry Anna…but that could just be a little girl’s imagination.”
May-Li suddenly changed the subject and called for one of the guards. She told him to go to the bakery to get cakes because we are going to have a little tea party in the garden.
Perhaps I should not have mentioned the idea of Finn getting married?
———
Me and Earl got massages in the hotel, and we had a couple of steaks for dinner, but no wine. Our heads have to be clear in the morning for our meeting with the president of the Taiwan Poultry Farmers’ Co-operative Bank. We turned in early, but I borrowed Earl’s notes so I can
read them over in my room. I want to get the proposal straight in my head before making my first pitch to a real live banker.
On the surface, our asset leasing programme seems simple enough. We’ll lease certificates of deposit from the duck farmers, and they’ll receive a lease payment and four per cent interest. Of course that’s almost as much interest as they’re getting from the bank, so the sweetener is that the lease payments and interest will be paid into Swiss bank accounts.
Once our company leases the certificates, we’ll get an insurance company to issue a policy guaranteeing that the money in the certificates exists at the Taiwan Poultry Farmers’ Co-operative Bank. Then our company will use the insured deposits to get money out of American S&Ls – to pay the interest and make a profit.
The important thing to the Taiwanese is getting their money out of Taiwan. They can’t take more than a few thousand US dollars out of the country, so everyone tries to get around the currency laws. The certificates of deposit we want to lease are all between two hundred fifty thousand and five million US dollars each, and there are two thousand duck farmers at the bank who qualify for our programme. So our asset leasing programme could put millions into Swiss bank accounts…and the Taiwan tax man doesn’t need to know.
But first we have to convince the bank president to recommend the programme to his depositors, the owners of the bank. We expect the bank president will have his hand out, and the strength of his recommendation will depend on his commission. Earl said he’ll handle that negotiation one on one…no witnesses. That’s fine with me. I’ve never bribed a bank president before.
———
I’m real impressed with the way Vinnie presented the asset leasing programme. You’d never guess it was the first time he’s talked about it to anyone besides me. He even dropped a hint about an ‘aspect that might be of personal interest’ to the bank boss. That was a pretty original way to describe a bribe, I reckon. Anyway, it did the trick.
