The Red Pole of Macau

by Ian Hamilton

  The restaurant was enormous, with a seating capacity of about two thousand. The hostess guided them through seating area after seating area to a section at the rear that had four private dining rooms. She knocked and waited. “Come in,” a voice said.

  General Feng sat at the table with another young officer. They both leapt to their feet to greet the women. “Madam Wong, a pleasure,” he said. “This is Lieutenant Chao, my personal assistant.”

  “And this is Ava Lee, my associate,” May said.

  There was a brisk round of bowing and then they settled into their chairs, the General pouring the first round of tea. “General Zhao sends his regards,” said May.

  “We were classmates and have been good friends and colleagues for thirty years,” Feng said.

  There was a knock at the door and two servers came in, followed by a host in a tuxedo. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered two specialties of the house — a soup made from black chicken and steamed squilla. The squilla is a particular favourite of mine.”

  As the host ladled soup and portioned out the shrimp, Feng and May made small talk about Zhao. The host hovered as they tasted the soup. “It’s wonderful,” May said.

  “Good, and now we’ll order some dim sum. Any preferences?”

  “Order whatever you want, General. I trust your judgement,” May said.

  When the staff had left, the room grew quiet as the soup and the squilla were shown due respect. May finished first; she had eaten only half of what she had been served. “General, our friend Zhao tells me you have a son studying in Shanghai,” she said.

  “Yes, my only child, a fine young man. He has decided that economics and business are for him.”

  “He is an undergraduate?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how is he doing at school?”

  “His marks are outstanding.”

  “I don’t know if Zhao has told you or not, but our company is always on the lookout for bright young graduates with an interest in business.”

  “Well, that is my son’s interest.”

  “And what are his plans after Shanghai?”

  “He wants to go to business school in Australia, maybe Canada.”

  “Would he consider the United States?”

  “Why not?”

  “I ask because our company has a relationship with the Stanford School of Business: we put one student a year into their post-graduate program. We pay the tuition fees and all their other expenses for as long as they are there. Of course, they have to commit to working at our company for at least two years after graduating. We naturally put them into a management position right away — the fast track — and then it’s up to them how far they progress. Not many of them ever leave our company.”

  “That sounds very interesting,” Feng said.

  “I wonder if you could mention this to your son.”

  “I’d be pleased to.”

  “You would be doing me a favour. Young men like him are our future.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that, you can count on it.”

  “Here,” May said, taking a business card from her purse. “Tell him to contact me directly. My personal number is there, and my email address.”

  The first wave of dim sum arrived — chicken feet, har gow, and fried octopus.

  “Now, Zhao tells me that you ladies have a small problem you need some help with,” Feng said as he held a slippery chicken foot an inch from his mouth.

  “I’d like Ava to explain,” May said.

  Ava sipped tea, watching Feng suck the skin and meat from one foot and then another, a small pile of bones growing on his plate. When she thought he was done, she said, “There’s a house in Coloane owned by a man named Kao Lok. We’re in the middle of a commercial dispute with him.” She paused. “Just how candid can I be?”

  “Zhao told me the basics. I need to know the specifics.”

  Ava passed a slip of paper to Feng. He looked at it and then slid it to Chao. “That is the address of the house. It has an alarm system that’s connected to the police force. I need the police to either ignore any alarm or disarm the alarm at their end for a few days.”

  “When?”

  “Say, starting tomorrow until Saturday night.”

  Feng said to Chao, “A lot of the hotels, bigger businesses, and influential people on that side get the same service from the police. I find it offensive that they should get such preferential treatment.”

  “Yes, sir,” Chao said.

  “Is that all you want?” Feng said.

  “Yes, General,” said Ava. “But it’s really important that this be kept confidential. We don’t want the resident informed that this has happened.”

  “Call Chu,” Feng said to his assistant, and then turned to May. “How do you find the food?”

  “Excellent, really excellent.”

  Chao called from the table. He asked for Chu and then waited for several minutes, his impatience becoming increasingly apparent. These men are used to getting what they want when they want it, Ava thought. Finally he said into the phone, “Just a moment, General Feng wants to speak to you.”

  Feng took the phone. “Excuse me, ladies, I need to go outside.”

  He was gone for no more than five minutes. When he returned, he gave the phone to Chao and said to May Ling, “The alarm will be disconnected at the police end today. You have until Sunday.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If there is any problem, you call me. And if you can’t get me, call Chao. He’ll find me.”

  “Thank you again.”

  “Any friend of Zhao is my friend.”

  May finally bit into her har gow. “Tell me about your wife, General. Zhao has so many nice things to say about her.”

  For the next twenty minutes Ava watched as two masters of small talk kept each other occupied. Chao just listened as well, once in a while stealing a glance at Ava, his attention on her chest.

  Five minutes after the last of the food had been consumed, Feng looked at his watch. “You have to excuse me now, ladies. I have to head back to the garrison. Kuo is waiting outside to drive you back to Macau.”

  “Excuse me, General, but is it possible he could make a short stop on the way? There’s a company in Zhuhai we’d like to visit,” Ava said.

  “Of course, we’ll let him know.”

  They all stood and exchanged bows, but this time the General and May Ling also shook hands. Ava and May left the room first, walking side by side through the restaurant.

  “That was wonderful. Thank you,” Ava said.

  May Ling smiled.

  “That Stanford program is really progressive on your part.”

  “We don’t have a Stanford program. Or at least, we didn’t until now,” May said. “I spoke to Feng last night. He has one child, the son, and he loves him madly. The son wants to go to Stanford, and even on a general’s salary Feng can’t afford that. We’ll make it possible. I just hope the boy isn’t an idiot.”

  “But then why — ?”

  “Why come here?”

  “Yes.”

  “That little bit of theatre was for the benefit of the General’s assistant. Changxing and I have always been careful, and the more successful we are, the more careful we become. We take the time to learn the needs of our friends, and we try to meet them in a way that never compromises them or us. We can’t be too circumspect these days, especially when the government in Beijing seems to launch an anti-corruption campaign every six months or so. None of us wants to end up on our knees with a gun to the back of our head.”

  Kuo was leaning on the car, speaking on the phone. He stood to attention when he saw them, putting the phone away. “I understand we’re making a stop?”

  “Yes, at the Citadel Security Company. It’s in the new Hi-Tech Development Zone here
in Zhuhai.”

  “Maybe a ten-minute drive, not a problem.”

  As they pulled away from the restaurant, May asked, “Why are we going there?”

  Ava lowered her voice. “They built the gate at the house in Coloane. I have the specifications but I don’t understand them all that well. They tell me that a truck might be able to crash through. I need more details.”

  “If any truck could, it would probably be the Volvo FH15, or better, the FH16,” May said.

  Ava turned to her. “How do you know that?”

  “We’ve been in the distribution business for twenty years, and distribution is all about trucks. We’ve owned thousands of them, and I did most of the buying and selling, so I had to know something. The Volvo FH16 is a relatively new model and it’s supposed to be the most powerful truck in the world. We own four of them. Seven hundred horsepower, tremendous torque, and it can carry an extremely heavy load. They are real brutes.”

  “How much weight can it carry?”

  “Thirty tonnes easily.”

  “Su, the guy at Citadel, told me that I had to factor in power, weight, and speed. What speed could we generate with the Volvo?”

  “What are the distances?”

  “Well, from the highway there’s a side road. You can’t go much faster than about thirty kilometres an hour on it. It starts to straighten about a hundred metres from a clearing, and you could get the speed up to, say, forty or fifty. Once you hit the clearing you have a clear run of two hundred metres to the gate.”

  “I would imagine the Volvo could get up to a hundred kilometres an hour, maybe even more.”

  “Let me call Su,” Ava said, reaching into her bag for her phone.

  “Mr. Su, I’m with our chairwoman,” Ava said. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to make the meeting, but we had one of our people look at your specifications and put together some theoretical situations. He seems to think that a Volvo FH16 truck, loaded with thirty tonnes and impacting the gate at a hundred kilometres an hour, would take it down. We’re curious as to your view.”

  “Ms. Lee, a tank couldn’t cause more damage than a truck that size, carrying that weight, at that speed.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m familiar with the Volvo FH series, and yes, I’m sure.”

  “Thank you. I’ll contact you as soon as we finalize our plans,” Ava said.

  “Well?” May asked.

  “Get one of those trucks to Macau.”

  “Are you always this bossy?”

  “Please.”

  “I have to call Wuhan. I have no idea where they are right now.”

  “And we’ll need a driver.”

  “I have one in mind; his name is Song.”

  Then Ava’s caution kicked in. “We need someone who knows how to keep his mouth shut,” she said. “And remember, there’s going to be a tremendous impact when the truck hits that gate. He has to be prepared to face that danger.”

  “Song races sports cars, so collisions are nothing new for him. And he’s a nephew of Wife Number One, so I’m not worried about his mouth.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now let me call my logistics manager and see if we can track down a truck.”

  “Ms. Lee, are we still going to Citadel?” the captain asked from the front seat.

  Ava realized he’d been listening to their conversation. He must think we’re insane, she thought. “No, you can take us directly to the ferry terminal.”

  They recrossed the border at the Gongbei Port of Entry, where the traffic lines were even longer than they had been at the Barrier Gate. The Lexus sped by, hardly stopping at the customs booth.

  May was on the phone nearly the entire distance to the terminal, doing more listening and waiting than talking. Finally she said, “We’ll have to tag-team the truck. I don’t want Song getting here dead tired. Call me when they leave Wuhan, and make sure they check in with you or me if they have any problems at all.” She covered the mouthpiece and said to Ava, “Where do you want to meet the truck?”

  “The Macau wharf is fine.”

  May relayed the message.

  “When will it arrive?” Ava asked.

  “The truck is two hours from Wuhan. We have to pull it back into our yard, load it with thirty tonnes of whatever we have lying around, and then get it on the road. It’s a twelve-hundred-kilometre drive, so we’ll put two drivers on the truck. Barring any problems, it could be in Macau as early as noon tomorrow.”

  “Does Song know my name?”

  “Why is that necessary?”

  “Well, I assumed you were flying back to Wuhan tonight.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m staying over.”

  “I didn’t see any luggage.”

  “Uncle has it. I’ve booked a suite at the Mandarin. He’s taken it there for me.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ll be going to Macau with you too.”

  ( 20 )

  Ava walked with May to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, and then she backed away when she saw the fuss the staff was making over their new guest. They would have carried May to her room if she’d asked.

  “I’m going to go now,” Ava said. “I have a tremendous amount of preparation to do.”

  “We’ll have dinner?”

  “Sure,” Ava said, putting aside more than one misgiving. “Let’s make it around eight. Why don’t you choose a restaurant? I’ll call you around seven thirty.”

  As Ava rode the elevator to the twenty-third floor it seemed to her that her days were taking on the shape of elevator rides. She’d started down at the lobby the day before with the offer sheet in her hand, and returned with it rendered meaningless and Simon To’s life at stake. This morning she’d started the day feeling down, full of doubt verging on desperation, and now she was up again: she had a chance, a real working chance to salvage this mess.

  When she got to her room, she took off her shirt and slacks and put on a T-shirt and track pants. She grabbed her notebook and a bottle of water and sat down at the desk.

  Phone calls — she had to make her phone calls first or she’d never be able to concentrate on planning anything. She made a quick list and then turned on her phone. Uncle and Amanda had left messages. Both were on her list, him at the top.

  “I was waiting,” he said.

  “Sorry, we just got back.”

  “How did it go?”

  “The alarm will be disconnected, effective today, through Sunday.”

  “I am not surprised.”

  “Uncle, she is very sharp, very shrewd.”

  “No more than you.”

  “No, she operates at a different level.”

  “All you need is the time, experience, and opportunity.”

  Ava let the compliment slide. “She got us a truck as well. It will be in Macau tomorrow.”

  “How confident are you about this working?”

  “As much as I can be. The people who built the gate tell me it won’t withstand what we can throw at it. I have to trust them.”

  “So, things are considerably brighter than they were this morning.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “When do you plan to make your move?”

  “Friday morning, as close to dawn as possible.”

  “That’s quick.”

  “No option.”

  “I gave Sonny the message about your gun. He has been talking to Carlo and I think things have been arranged.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “Now what?”

  “I have a lot of planning to do, and I want to get at it.”

  “Do you want to have dinner tonight?”

  “May has asked me already. Do you want to join us?”

  “No, I think it is better for the two of you to eat alone.”
>
  Amanda was breathless when she answered her phone. “What a crazy day,” she began. “I ran all over Hong Kong looking for your map, and Michael kept calling me every hour, and I’ve just got off the mtr from Sha Tin.”

  “You went to see Jessie.”

  “I had to. When I spoke to her this morning, she was a basket case, and I was afraid she’d start calling Michael or go to the police or God knows what. So I hustled over to Sha Tin and spent a couple of hours trying to calm her. Her mother is terrific, you know. She believed everything we said the other night, but Jessie is not so gullible. She knows something is not right and kept hammering at me for details.”

  “How is she now?”

  “I have no idea. I’m going to call in a little while.”

  “Look, call her right away. Tell her we’ve finalized our arrangements with the people in Macau and that the deal closes on Friday. In fact, tell her that Simon will be home for dinner Friday night.”

  “Ava, are you sure about this?”

  Well, if he’s not home by Friday he’s not coming home at all, Ava thought. Either way, maybe they could spare Jessie an additional day and a half of anguish. “Tell her he’ll be home Friday.”

  “Ava, you’re going to Macau then, aren’t you.”

  How much can I tell her? Ava thought. And then she realized there was probably not much that Amanda hadn’t figured out already. “I am, and it isn’t something I want you to discuss with anyone else — not Michael, not your father, not Jessie. I’m trusting you with this.”

  “Do you have to do it this way? I mean, I know how you went in and got my father, so I know you’ve done it before, but is it really necessary?”

  Ava switched gears. “I take it you got my map?”

  “And I got the floor plans blown up.”

  “Good. There’s one more thing I need you to do today. Do you know what a balaclava is?”

  “Of course.”

  “I need eight of them, black preferably. In fact, black most definitely.”

  “Where will I find those?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking you to do it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I need them by early tomorrow. Try to drop them off at the hotel, with the map and the plans, around nine o’clock.”