Joyce stood, bored. She wished she had brought something to read. Biltong’s newspaper was all in Chinese, and seemed to be full of pictures of accidents and ambulances. She passed the time by examining the other people in the queue and trying to guess what they did. Directly behind them was a tall, shaven-headed man who kept trying to sneak in front of them, edging forwards around the sides of the queue. She caught him leering at her, his tiny eyes running over her body. He must have some villainous occupation, she decided-running a shop selling pirate VCDs, maybe.
She stood her ground to prevent him moving forwards, and was shocked when he continued to move forwards until he was actually touching her. She crossly changed places with Au-yeung.
In front of them were two women, bespectacled, smartly dressed, each with identical hairstyles. They were wearing expensive-looking designer suits, which seemed a ludicrous idea on this dusty construction site. Accountants, she decided, buying property as an investment.
‘How long will we have to wait?’ she asked when they had been standing in the slow-moving queue for almost an hour.
‘Probably another hour or so. Let me find out.’ There were several slick-looking young men in dark glasses who regularly strolled up and down the length of the queue. Au-yeung stopped one of them and spoke briefly to him in Cantonese, and then turned back to Joyce.
‘He reckons another forty minutes.’
‘Who are these young guys? The one on the left is kinda cute, I mean, if you like that sort of thing.’ She smiled, slightly embarrassed by her own comment.
‘They are people hired by the developers to help with organisation and security. You always get a few of these “aides”. I mean, if you want my honest opinion, I would say that they are almost definitely a rival group of triads themselves. But they have some link with the developer and are helping to make sure things go smoothly.’
‘Why are they walking up and down?’
‘They are just imparting information to the crowd. For instance, this guy just told me that the eight penthouse flats on both blocks have already gone. Most of the upper floors have gone, he says. There’s a twelfth-floor flat facing northeast still available. That might do us, but if that goes as well, I don’t mind lower floors. The fifth floor facing east, like Wong suggested, would be fine. Probably not too many people after them, either, so we’ve got a chance of getting one, I hope.’
After another twenty minutes passed uneventfully, Auyeung and his companion found themselves twelve places from the door to the main office. ‘Won’t be long now,’ the businessman said. ‘I wonder where Wong is?’ He was starting to become anxious, and kept turning around to see if the old geomancer was anywhere in sight.
The young men in dark glasses were standing to one side, counting the people from the door, and then moving along the queue, chatting to each buyer. This time, the conversations were more animated, and the buyers in front of them seemed to be pleased by what they heard.
Joyce watched while the young men spoke to the two be-suited women in front of them, and then swapped a few words with Bilton Au-yeung. The businessman smiled broadly.
The one that Joyce decided was attractive took off his wrap-around petrol-coloured sunglasses and caught her eye. He grinned, showing an old woman’s gold tooth unexpectedly placed in a young mouth. ‘Hello? Spik Chinese?’ he said.
‘No, sorry. Do you speak English?’ She gave him her just-slightly-interested smile.
‘No.’ He turned to Biltong and asked him something in Cantonese.
The businessman replied in the same language, and the young man instantly lost his smile, replaced his glasses and walked on.
Au-yeung turned to Joyce. ‘He was asking whether you were my girlfriend, although he didn’t use that word. I told him you were my second sister-in-law and you were due to marry an extremely wealthy businessman in the interior decoration industry next week.’
‘Why d’you say that? Did he like me? You didn’t have to put him off. He was kinda cute.’
‘Yes, but, believe me, I did you a favour. You wouldn’t want to get involved with someone like that.’
Joyce shrugged her shoulders. ‘Dunno. Whatever. I’ve always wanted to be a gangster’s moll. Guess it wouldn’t have been very romantic if we like, couldn’t speak to each other. Wish you hadn’t said I was marrying an interior decorator though. What a poncy job.’
‘Pon-si?’
‘I mean, it’s all gay men, mainly. Decorators. Gay people are cool but you can’t marry them.’
‘Ah. Well it’s different here. Certain jobs here are closely associated with the triads. Interior decoration is one of them. It’s a real tough-guy job in Hong Kong. I was basically telling him that you belonged to someone more powerful in his own line of work.’
Joyce thought about this for a moment. ‘Interior decorators are tough guys in Hong Kong? You’re having me on.’
‘No.’
She shook her head. ‘Too weird. So I guess I am a gangster’s moll in his eyes. Cool. Why did they stop and talk to you, anyway?’
‘They said there are twenty more flats left in block two, eight of which are on the fourth floor-fourth is always the last to sell in Hong Kong. If you calculate the number of people ahead of us, we look like being the last people to be able to buy a block-two flat which isn’t on the fourth floor. Apparently both the flats Wong picked out are still available: E and D on the fifth. Fifth floor isn’t very popular. It’s too low, and too close to the unlucky fourth. We’re in luck. Thank goodness we took the earliest bus.’
The shaven-headed man behind them groaned with disappointment after talking to the same young men.
‘He’s upset,’ Au-yeung translated, needlessly. ‘He’ll probably have to have something on the fourth, or go for the next block.’
‘I don’t feel sorry for him,’ said Joyce. ‘He’s been trying to push in and get in front of us ever since we got here. He’s got wandering eyes too. Wonder where C F is?’
They had to wait another ten minutes before Wong returned, arguing his way back to his companions with some difficulty. ‘Hard to get back,’ the geomancer said. ‘Thought I was trying to get in front. Went back to building site. Borrowed hard hat. Then I can walk anywhere.’
‘Pushing in is a capital offence in this sort of situation,’ said the businessman. ‘The British left an awful lot of good things, and a few bad ones, but the habit of orderly queuing is one of the best. Did you find out anything interesting?’
‘Yes,’ said Wong. ‘Very many things. Important things.’
He took out the brochure and opened it to the floor plan. ‘One. This plan is a bit wrong. A lot wrong. South should be here, not here.’
‘Oh dear. Does this change your recommendation?’
‘Yes. Very much change.’
Au-yeung, suddenly worried, leaned over to look at the map. ‘You better tell me fast, Wong. We’re nearly at the front of the queue. We’ve only got a few minutes before we have to decide.’
‘But listen first. There are some other strange things I found out too,’ said the old man. ‘The main gate, the entrance, when it is finished, will be here. Will face northeast. Big ornamental gate very nice. Back gate will be southeast.’
‘We knew that, though, didn’t we?’ said the businessman.
‘We knew the gate was here. But we did not know the direction. This means the name is wrong. But So told me that the feng shui master for this development was Pang Si-jek.’
‘Wait a minute. Who’s So?’ asked Joyce.
‘The workman. His brother lives in my village. But listen. Pang Si-jek was the feng shui master for this development, he says. I know him very well, before. He usually does not make mistakes with names.’
‘What’s wrong with the name?’
‘Northeast, the name should be Tiger. Tiger’s Gate Court, if it is an animal. If it is not a star animal, then any name is okay. But cannot use astrology animal and use wrong one. Dragon’s Gate Court is a southe
ast name. Where back gate is.’
‘Probably just carelessness,’ said Au-yeung. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing to be worried about.’
‘But Pang never makes such mistakes. Listen please. New foreman and new bosses and new workers arrived yesterday, he told me. To make place ready for sale today. So said there is something wrong. Usual foreman did not come to work. The workers, they call it Ma On Shan lot 2761. But they thought it was going to be named Blossom Garden. Until yesterday. The new foreman ordered the new name, Dragon’s Gate Court, to be put up last night. These signs, all new.’
‘That does sound a bit odd.’ The cheek muscle under Au-yeung’s left eye gave a worried twitch.
‘There’s something like weird going on here, right?’ said Joyce.
‘Have more news,’ said the geomancer. ‘The people you said were triads. Those men who came early, had argument. I found them. They were locked up in a how-you-say? Metal room? Portable room? Portaloo?’
‘Portacabin,’ said Joyce.
‘Yes. Portacabin on west side. I pretend to be worker. Got close. Speak to them through the window. I think they are not triads. They are too old, some of them. I think they are real owners. Bad men took their mobile phones.’
‘Real owners? What? What do you mean? What’s going on here? This is all too strange for me.’ Au-yeung got out his mobile phone, although there was no one obvious for him to call. It just seemed to be a nervous reaction. He started to put his phone away, and then got it out again. ‘ Mutyeh si? What’s happening? You’ve got me really confused, Wong.’
Joyce was trying to work it out. ‘You mean, like, these bad guys turn up last night and take over the site and give it a new name and try and sell it and stuff? But you can’t sell someone else’s building. I mean, didn’t the real owners object? They must have seen the ad.’
‘Usually they do not put addresses on the ad. Also the what-you-call-it? Artist impression? All artist impression look the same, I think.’
Au-yeung gasped: ‘What’s the idea here?’
‘They just want the deposit I think,’ said Wong. ‘How many people here? Much cash deposit.’
Au-yeung tried to speak but his voice was just a croak. His throat suddenly felt constricted. He coughed. ‘Erm. Ngoh mm ji. I don’t know. About 500, I reckon.’
‘The deposit is how much?’
‘One-point-five million Hong Kong dollars,’ said the businessman. ‘Five hundred times 1.5 million is, about, 750 million Hong Kong dollars.’
‘Wow,’ said Joyce. ‘That’s probably like a lot of money even in real money.’
‘One hundred million US dollar almost,’ said the geomancer.
‘Pretty good for one night’s work.’
‘Very good for one night’s work.’ Au-yeung was breathing deeply and quickly, like an asthmatic. He checked the handcuff holding his briefcase to his hand, and then hugged the bag to his chest. He was sweating. ‘We have to escape.’
By this time, the queue had moved on again and they were standing at the door of the main office. They saw a desk, surrounded by guards and men in dark suits.
‘Heavies,’ mumured Joyce. ‘Like in the movies.’
A man at a desk was greeting a buyer, taking a cheque from him, and ushering him to the next desk, where he was shown a map, a list of apartments, and handed some papers to sign.
Au-yeung, looking over the heads of the women in front, kept his terrified eyes firmly on the progress of the man’s cheque. It was slipped into an envelope and then taken to a third desk, where a man put it into a metal security box-a container that held a large stack of similar cheques, plus some thick wads of cash.
Wong was talking to the large shaven-headed man in the queue behind them.
‘I can see what’s happening,’ Au-yeung said to Joyce. ‘Look, they’re collecting all the cash and cashiers’ cheques in that box, and they’ll make a break for it before someone realises that they are selling someone else’s unfinished property development. What a scam. We have to get away.’
‘Will they let us leave? Do you think they’ll have guns?’ whispered Joyce, suddenly noticing the large number of unsmiling guards and staff representatives around the showroom.
‘Wong,’ said Au-yeung, grabbing the old man’s arm. ‘What do we do?’
‘We just go,’ said the geomancer, starting to move away. ‘I told man behind us the apartment we want already sold. We don’t want other ones because of feng shui not good for your birth chart.’
The man behind was gleeful to see Wong, McQuinnie and Au-yeung step out of the queue, and he hurriedly closed up the gap, standing unsociably close to the young women who had been ahead of them.
The slick young man who had spoken to Joyce earlier approached the three as soon as they stepped away from the queue. ‘Wai. Mut-yeh si?’
‘Ngoh-ge chaang maih-jo,’ said Wong, with a pained expression on his face. ‘Di-yi-di chaang fung shui mm-ho, ngoh lum. Mo baan faat. ’
‘Mo ban fat,’ repeated Joyce, trying to look tough, as befits an experienced moll.
With a dismissive toss of his head, the young triad let them leave, and the three climbed into a waiting taxi to head back to the urban area.
‘Phew. Thank God we are out of there. What do we do now?’ asked Joyce, as the vehicle slipped onto the main road. ‘This is a major scam. Shouldn’t we like report it to the police or something?’
‘Already did,’ said Wong. ‘Used a phone on site. Before I came back.’
As they proceeded towards Shatin, three squad cars raced past the taxi, and turned, tyres squealing in the best Hollywood tradition, into the approach road that led to the site.
‘Do you think they will catch them?’ asked Joyce. ‘Won’t they try and escape round the back or something?’
‘Yes,’ said Wong. ‘I think they will try that. They will take the money box. They will use the road that goes to the southeast in the direction of the dragon. I told the police to put a road block there. So I think it is no problem.’
Au-yeung remained sitting frozen with his briefcase in his arms, stunned by the turn of events. ‘I almost lost you, my poor baby,’ he cooed to his savings.
‘Does this mean you are not going to buy a flat after all and we can go on holiday now?’ asked Joyce.
Au-yeung, in shock, did not answer.
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Wong. ‘I think he will not let go of that bag. For a long time.’
‘Can we like, go to the beach or something now?’
‘Yes. But first, I think we go and have breakfast in the Peninsula hotel.’
‘I thought we couldn’t afford it.’
‘I sold our place in the queue to man behind us,’ said the geomancer. ‘He gave me 3000 Hong Kong dollars. I think it is enough.’
The taxi picked up speed as they topped a hill and row after row of glittering towers beckoned them.
6 Ghost in the machine
The sages of ancient days tell this story. There was a poor Taoist priest. He walked on the paths between the mountains. He lived on air and on river water and on what he was given.
One day he came to the village pear-seller. The village pear-seller had more than one hundred pears in his barrow.
‘Give me one please,’ said the priest.
‘No. You must pay like other people,’ said the pear-seller. ‘Go away.’
But the priest did not leave.
The man became angry. The people standing near said: ‘Give him a small one. Or a bad one. Then he will go.’
The pear-seller said: ‘No.’
Now a crowd had gathered.
The chief of the village came. He paid for a pear. He gave it to the poor priest. The priest said thank you. He said: ‘People like me give up everything. We give up life, family, money, homes, possessions. We cannot understand the minds of those who give up nothing.’
The people asked the priest: ‘Yes, you give up much. But what do you get?’
The priest said: ‘Many
things. For example, I have many beautiful pear trees, each with hundreds of delicious pears.’
The people asked: ‘Where are they?’
The priest said: ‘In here.’ He pointed to the pear in his hand. Then he ate the pear. He took out the pips. He buried them in the ground. He asked for some water. He sprinkled the water on the ground. A stick came out of the ground. Then it became a tree. Then leaves came on the branches. Then pears came out of the branches.
‘Take. Eat,’ said the priest. The people took and ate the pears. The priest said goodbye and left the village.
The tree faded. It disappeared. The pear-seller looked back at his barrow. But all his pears had gone.
So, Blade of Grass, remember that he who is wealthy in riches is often poor in spirit. He who is poor in wealth is often rich in spirit.
From ‘Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom’
by C F Wong, part 116.
‘Ah, my prayers have been answered: a meeting of the mystics on a Friday night. We haven’t had a Friday-night meeting for a very, very long time.’ Madam Xu Chung Li radiated glee at her companions before taking a small towel out of her handbag and wiping the table, employing particular vigour on the areas directly in front of her and the other female present. These efforts had no visible effect on the table surface, but her observers assumed the gesture was symbolic.
‘Why d’you like meeting on Fridays?’ asked Joyce.
‘Well, dear, Friday is a very special night at the Sambar,’ the old fortune teller whispered confidentially, pursing her crimson lips to create a network of lines pointing the way into her mouth. ‘It’s the night old Uberoi makes string hoppers. Only place in Singapore where you can get them, to my knowledge.’
‘Oh.’ The young woman decided against asking what a string hopper was, not wanting to appear a tourist.
The Feng Shui Detective Page 13
