The King of Shanghai

by Ian Hamilton

He seemed embarrassed by her show of affection. “Hey, boss,” he said.

  “Hey, Sonny,” she said.

  He reached for her bag. “Where are we going?”

  “The Mandarin Oriental in Central.”

  “I didn’t really have to ask,” he said, then turned and pointed. “The car is parked in that direction.”

  He walked towards a door that opened onto a no-­parking, no-stopping zone that was reserved for Hong Kong’s elite. That was where Uncle had left his car when he came to meet her. She was surprised that the privilege had been extended to Sonny.

  A policeman stood near the front fender. Ava thought he was writing a ticket, but when he saw them, he stepped back, placed his hands together, and bowed. “Thanks,” Sonny said, extending his hand, which held a Hong Kong hundred-dollar note.

  Ava went to sit in the front passenger seat, but Sonny walked past her and opened the rear door. “That’s where Uncle always sat,” he said. “It seems right to me.”

  The car left the airport and eased onto the Tsing Ma Bridge, whose six lanes of traffic and two rail lines connected the man-made island airport to Kowloon. The Ma Wan Channel was two hundred metres below, its water carpeted with even more ships.

  Traffic was light. Sonny was across the one and a half kilometres of bridge into Kowloon and leaving the Cross-Harbour Tunnel by the time Ava spoke. “Sonny, what do you know about Sammy Wing?”

  “He runs Wanchai.”

  “So I gather. But tell me, what’s he like?”

  “He’s big, fat, and looks like a bit of a slob. Some people assume he must be sloppy. He’s not. Uncle didn’t like him but he had time for him. He thought he’s maybe the shrewdest of all the Triad bosses in and around Hong Kong.”

  “How does he operate?”

  “He smiles a lot when he talks to you, like he wants you to think he’s your best friend. That works, until he puts a knife in your back.”

  “Not uncommon.”

  “Well, as long you keep doing what he wants, he’ll be nice enough. The moment you resist, you can expect him to turn into a monstrous prick.”

  “How did he and Uncle get along? I mean really.”

  “Like I said, Uncle never liked him. He went out of his way to avoid him.”

  “Yet Wing helped you find Leung.”

  “Only because Uncle paid him.”

  “I see.”

  “Paid him a lot.”

  “I see. Did he and Uncle have unfinished business?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

  “I can’t figure out why he wants to meet with me.”

  “So why do it?”

  “I’m here because of Carlo.”

  Ava saw Sonny look at her in the rear-view mirror. “Carlo doesn’t think much beyond what’s going on for a particular day.”

  “I know, but whenever I needed him, he was there for me.”

  “He was good that way,” Sonny said, nodding.

  “So I’ll meet with Sammy Wing.”

  “Where?”

  “A noodle shop two blocks from the Mandarin, where Uncle and I used to go.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “We agreed that it should be just the two of us.”

  “That figures. He’s secretive as well as being a prick.”

  “But I don’t see any reason why you can’t walk there with me and wait outside until I’m finished.”

  “Yeah. That will work.”

  They ran into the beginning of rush hour as they drove deeper into the city. Ava checked her watch — it was almost four. She had agreed to meet Wing at six, so even with the traffic she would have time to check in, change her clothes, and prepare herself.

  They reached the hotel half an hour later. “I’ll meet you in the lobby at five to six,” Ava said.

  “I have a parking spot near here,” Sonny said. “I’m no more than two minutes away if you need me before then.”

  That won’t be necessary, Ava thought, then caught herself before the words were spoken. “That will be perfect,” she said.

  The doorman smiled when he saw her. “Welcome back, Ms. Lee,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  She had stayed at the Mandarin so many times over the years that she knew most of the staff by name and knew her way around the hotel as well as she did her Toronto condo. Within five minutes she was checked in and walking into her suite on the twentieth floor. She unpacked her case, put her toiletries in the bathroom, set up her computer on the desk, and then went over to the window. Her room overlooked Victoria Harbour, across which she could see Tsim Sha Tsui and the rest of Kowloon beyond. When she was staying in Hong Kong during Uncle’s illness, every morning she had taken the Star Ferry across the harbour, from Central to Tsim Sha Tsui, to meet Uncle for a congee breakfast. The harbour was as busy as usual, outgoing and incoming ferries passing each other as they dodged the array of traffic. There had been a time when she could look out over the entire expanse of Tsim Sha Tsui’s waterfront from the hotel; now all she saw were swatches between the high-rise towers and office buildings that formed a wall flanking the Hong Kong side. It was the world’s tallest skyline, larger by far in both numbers and size than New York City’s, and still growing. Ava often thought of the towers as citadels protecting the core of Central — Hong Kong’s financial heart — from invasion.

  She turned from the window and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and her hair and put on a light touch of red lipstick and black mascara. She stripped off the black T-shirt and Adidas training pants she had worn for the flight, and in her underwear went to the bedroom. She put on a white shirt with an Italian collar, securing the cuffs with the blue enamel links she had bought at Shanghai Tang. She debated between a skirt and slacks, and opted for the pants.

  Her phone had been off since she left Shanghai. She turned it on and saw a text from Amanda. They hadn’t heard from the Pos. May had left a voicemail that said simply, “Check your email.”

  Ava turned on her computer and opened May’s message. The news from Beijing couldn’t have been better: the offer sheet had been returned to them with only minor modifications. May had attached the document for Ava to review. She had also sent a copy to their Hong Kong law firm, Burgess and Bowlby, advising them that Ava was in Hong Kong and would be the company’s point of contact as the deal memo made the transition into formal contract.

  Ava had met Brenda Burgess when Three Sisters was incorporated. She was a gweilo, as was her partner, Richard Bowlby. May, like Uncle, felt more comfortable working with Western-trained, Western-minded lawyers. It wasn’t that their Hong Kong Chinese counterparts weren’t as smart; it was that gweilo lawyers moved in entirely different social and business circles. Both May and Uncle believed that there was less chance of their affairs becoming public, however inadvertently or innocently. Uncle did not want anyone to know even who his lawyer was, and even the most discreet Chinese lawyer would have found it difficult not to divulge the fact that Uncle was a client.

  Ava opened the attachments May had sent. It would be costing them $85 million to take control of the Beijing operation. She shook her head at the thought of so much money. She knew they had it, but the fact was still too new to fully absorb.

  At the end of her message May wrote that she and Suki probably had a week of due diligence ahead of them, in and around Beijing, but that Ava should proceed with the lawyers as if everything had already checked out. Ava forwarded the email to the law firm, advising them that she was indeed in Hong Kong and staying at the Mandarin Oriental in Central. Their office was no more than a ten-minute walk away.

  She checked her watch and saw that it was ten to six. It was time to meet Wing. She debated taking a notebook to the meeting and then discarded the idea. She couldn’t imagine he would have anything to say that would be
worth writing down.

  It was close to dinnertime, so she had to wait a couple of minutes for the elevator, which made five stops on the way to the lobby. It was almost six when she finally got there. Sonny was standing by the main entrance, his back against a wall, his eyes darting in all directions. Old habits die hard, Ava thought. He straightened when he saw her, and he reached for his tie and gave it a tug to tighten it.

  “I’m a bit late. Sorry,” she said.

  “That’s no problem for me.”

  The noodle shop was only two blocks from the hotel, uphill from the harbour on Ko Shing Street near Des Voeux Road, but it was a long two blocks to walk. The surrounding office towers were beginning to empty. Ava and Sonny walked side by side, almost pressed into the backs of the people in front of them, the breath of the people behind on their necks. “I’d forgotten how bad the foot traffic can be,” she said as they reached an intersection and were forced to stop five metres from it.

  When they got to Ko Shing, Ava turned right and the pedestrian flow eased. They were still about twenty metres away when Ava saw Carlo and another man standing in front of the noodle shop. Carlo was small and wiry. He was dressed in a tight white T-shirt and black jeans that didn’t add any substance to his build. His head was cleanly shaven and he was still wearing the scraggly beard and wisp of a moustache he’d had the last time she had seen him. The other man was not quite as big as Sonny but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He wore a black T-shirt that showed off the tattoos covering both his arms.

  Ava saw Carlo look in their direction and waved at him. He glanced sideways at his companion and muttered something, then both men turned to face them.

  “Good to see you again, Carlo,” Ava said.

  “And you. Thanks for coming,” he said.

  She waited, expecting him to offer his hand, or even his cheek. Instead he motioned at the bigger man. “This is Bobby. He’s one of Sammy’s key men.” Bobby nodded at her. He seemed bored to be there.

  “Hi, Sonny,” Carlo said.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Well enough. You?”

  “Working for Ava.”

  “Yeah, I sort of knew that.”

  “Now you know for sure,” Sonny said, his eyes now focused on Bobby.

  “Sammy is inside. Let me take you in and make the introductions,” Carlo said.

  Bobby moved to one side, clearing the entrance. Carlo leapt forward to open the door and then stood aside to let Ava pass. As she did, he whispered, “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

  The restaurant was small — ten tables with steel tube legs and Formica tops. The air inside was thick and humid from the steam rising from bowls of soup and noodles, and it was jammed with customers. Carlo touched Ava gently on the elbow and guided her towards the rear. In the far corner, a short, heavyset man wearing a red Ralph Lauren polo shirt stood as they neared. Next to him a large, very fat man remained seated at the table.

  “I’m Jimmy Tan,” the standing man said, offering his hand.

  “And I guess you know I’m Ava Lee.”

  “I saw you at Uncle’s funeral.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you. The day was a complete blur.”

  “That isn’t a surprise,” he said. “And in case you don’t remember, this is Sammy Wing.”

  She looked down at a round face and a double set of jowls. He had a full head of black hair parted in the middle. He had fine features — a small nose, thin lips — but they were almost swallowed up by mounds of flesh flowing like layers of melted wax. His eyes were large and round and flickered from side to side like those of an owl. He pushed himself up from his chair. It was a laborious process, hindered by a huge belly that hung over the waistband of his jeans.

  “Thank you so much for coming. Please take a seat,” Sammy Wing said. His voice was surprisingly soft.

  There were three chairs at the table. “I thought we agreed that it would be just the two of us,” Ava said.

  “Jimmy is my deputy Mountain Master,” Wing said.

  “I told Carlo that I would meet with you alone. When he called me back, he said you were okay with that.” She felt Carlo stiffen behind her and wondered if he had misled her. If he had, she had enough reason to turn and walk out of the restaurant.

  “I was,” Wing said. “I just don’t see how having Jimmy sit in should make that much of a difference.”

  “Look, I don’t know what you want with me. I agreed to sit with you out of appreciation for the help you gave Uncle last year and out of respect for Carlo. But if you can’t honour a simple agreement, I don’t feel obliged to stay.”

  Wing reached down and extracted a toothpick from the jar on the table. He closed his eyes and jabbed the pick between his lower middle teeth. “Jimmy, go wait outside,” he said.

  As Carlo and Jimmy moved away from the table, Sammy Wing smiled. “Now will you sit?”

  Ava chose the chair directly across from him. “I’m sorry if I seemed rude,” she said. “But I have no idea why you want to speak to me, and whatever it is, I prefer that it be between the two of us.”

  “Are you always this cautious?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I am as well, which is why I’ve lasted this long. It’s also why I wanted to meet with you in person. There are — Oh, forgive me, I haven’t offered you anything to eat or drink yet.”

  “I don’t want to eat. Tea is fine to drink.”

  He raised his hand in the air, his eyes not leaving her. They aren’t unkind eyes, she thought.

  “Yes, Sammy?” a voice said.

  Ava looked at the restaurant owner, a man she had met many times while in the company of Uncle. He ignored her, all his attention focused on Wing.

  “Tea for the lady.”

  “Jasmine,” Ava said.

  Wing lowered himself back onto his chair. It disappeared under his bulk. “How was Shanghai?” he asked.

  “It’s a wonderful city.”

  “I mean, how was your business in Shanghai?”

  “Mr. Wing, I’m not sure why my business there — or anywhere else — is of any interest to you.”

  “Please, call me Sammy,” he said.

  “Sammy, what is going on here?”

  “Ah, your tea is here,” he said, reaching for the bottle of Sing Tao in front of him. The owner hovered, a pot in one hand, a cup in the other.

  When they were alone again, Wing wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and then leaned ever so slightly towards her. The move, though not particularly abrupt or intrusive, caught her off guard, and she flinched.

  “Have you heard of Li Kai?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t think I have,” she said, gathering herself.

  “He thought you might remember him. He runs Guangzhou. Jackie Leung contracted his gang to kill you.”

  “I only knew the name Li and the name Ko. Ko was the one they sent to do the job.”

  “But Li called him off before he could.”

  Ava began to correct him and then stopped. What did it matter if Li’s message hadn’t got to Ko before he tried to kill her? What did it matter that she’d fought him off, and another thug? This had nothing to do with the reality of the past. “I think you’re implying that I owe Li a debt of gratitude for cancelling the contract — one that he initially and readily agreed to — only after his contractor ended up floating face down in Victoria Harbour.”

  Wing shrugged. “He had other choices.”

  “At the time there was only one that made any sense. I can’t give him credit for doing what best served his interests.”

  “We all value our self-interest, don’t we? It would be a strange and unpredictable world if we didn’t. I’m sure you aren’t any different than the rest of us when it comes to that. I know for a fact that Uncle wasn’t — exc
ept maybe when it came to you. He put you ahead of most things in his life. That was never clearer to me than when he asked me to help find and put away that pig Jackie Leung.”

  “I’m told he paid you well enough to do that.”

  “That was just the business side of things. The hard part for him was asking me in the first place. We had fallen out years before. There was, I admit, bad blood between us — mistrust, a taste for revenge — but he put all that aside and came to me, cap in hand, to ask me to help him find Leung. Now, I could have said no. I could have taken the opportunity to make him squirm. Instead I greeted him as an old colleague. I shook his hand and I agreed to do what he asked. The fact that I took money for it was a way for him to save face and not be so openly beholden to me.”

  “That’s your story,” Ava said quietly.

  “That’s what happened.”

  “And I have no way of knowing otherwise.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Why do men breathe?”

  “Are you always so skeptical?”

  “It reduces disappointment.”

  “You’re too young to be so skeptical and cynical.”

  “Uncle taught me that you can’t be enough of either.”

  “Like your friend in Shanghai?”

  “I’m not aware that I have a particular friend in Shanghai,” Ava said quickly, and reached for her tea.

  “He’s a problem, you know.”

  “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

  Wing leaned in closer. Ava found herself staring at the part in his hair: the roots were grey.

  “He’s not just a friend anymore, is he. I hear he’s become a business partner,” Wing said.

  Ava felt her face twitch. She took a deep breath as she tried to regain her composure, the word how dancing on her lips. Instead she said, “I’m still waiting for the name of this friend and business partner.”

  Wing sat back with a slight smile on his face. “I know you’re surprised that I know and that I knew so fast, but that’s the way it is in my world. People you think are friends may not be. People you think are enemies may have only your best interest at heart. It isn’t always easy to sort things out, even for the most experienced of us. I’m sorry for you if Xu betrayed your trust, but that’s the nature of the man.”