Julia didn't believe him. She knew he knew that. And she knew he didn't care and wouldn't be clarifying his story anytime soon.
When Orlando returned he brought a glass of coke, with ice, for Julia, another beer for Boris and himself, and a plate with some cheese and grapes on it. Making conversation as he handed her the glass he said, "You didn't say you were bringing family with you when you left."
"I don't remember you asking and I didn't know I was going to. Next time I go home I'll bring back my babies and my husband." She winked, took a dainty sip of the cola, and turned to go powder her nose. It was hot in Shanghai and the last thing she needed was a sweat stained face in this land of porcelain dolls.
#
Orlando watched her leave until he could feel Boris staring at him. Turning to face him, he took a slow sip of his beer again.
"So when do I get to inspect the export goods?" He asked Boris.
Boris dug in his pocket, glanced around, and slid a coin toward him on the table.
It had a solid feeling. A weighty coin with rich luster. When he took it in his palm it was almost as big in diameter as the length of his first finger from tip to middle knuckle. He liked the feeling of it, but he had to make sure it was real gold before he pulled the trigger. He turned it over in his fingers and searched all the places it was worn. He couldn't discern any colors showing through at the worn areas. Then he brushed the cheese and grapes off the simple ceramic plate they were served on and pulled the edge of the coin across its surface. It left a faint, gold smudge. Finally Orlando laid the coin flat on the plate and carefully pulled out a tiny vial from his pocket. It was nitric acid and his final test. Unscrewing the cap and using the glass stem dauber connected to it to drop a bit of the acid on the coin, he waited a moment to see how the coin reacted. After a minute or so it did not react at all. Real gold.
"Okay, how many more?" Orlando asked.
"I have thirteen hundred all together," Boris stated.
It jived with what the mayor had said. Not insignificant, but not a king's fortune, either. Orlando would have no trouble getting rid of them. He did some calculations in his head. "It would be better if we did two or three transfers to avoid looking overly burdened. I can include the ten kilos in the final transfer if you want."
"I have two heavy cases with the coins, I'd rather do it all at once. How about here, same time next week?" Boris apparently wasn't comfortable doing the transfer over several days. Orlando could understand that.
Orlando thought for a couple minutes while he nursed his beer. It could be completed in one exchange. That was maybe better than screwing around and complicating things. "Okay, I'll bring a car, the exchange will happen at the car, not in the club. Make it look like I'm picking you up by putting your luggage in the trunk. I'll have two cases for you in the back seat. One with the ten kilos and one with your Yuan, less the cost of your ten kilos."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute…Yuan? We've been discussing this in pesos, not Yuan. Yuan aren't worth anything to me." Boris rubbed his eyes at the new twist.
"Hey, I've been talking pesos with you because you started in them. I figured it was easier for you to think in the currency of your country. We’re in China; the currency here is Yuan. That’s how the trade will be made," answered Orlando.
"Our country…you're Filipino, too," stated Boris.
"My shell might be Filipino, but my interior is a mixture of Chinese, Taiwanese, Thai, Indo and Filipino. I speak the language of the country in which I reside. That happens to be Chinese now." Orlando watched as Boris tried to digest it. The truth was, Orlando could deal in any currency he needed to, but a forced exchange might benefit him. "We're in China, Boris, get real. Exchanges in China are done in Yuan. I can get you pesos, but it'll cost you five percent."
"Two percent," Boris countered.
"Two and a half and you've got a deal," answered Orlando.
"Fuck. Yeah, okay. Let's look at the numbers," replied Boris.
They both ran the numbers for the transactions, each of them doing the totals and checking the other's math. Then Orlando took two and a half percent off the top. "Easiest two and a half percent I've made in a month," he thought. He'd have to pay something to get the pesos, but he could usually do it for under a percent. Even less if there was a significant chance there might be some counterfeit pesos included. And there were always counterfeit pesos…
Checking Out the Neighborhood 1982
The next day Julia slept late and Boris was up at the crack of dawn. As usual. He was an early riser all the time and a poor sleeper in general, more so when anxious about something. So far the meet and the planning for the exchange had been satisfactory, but it was a really big deal. Plus, he'd started obsessing about the return trip.
He'd joined a freight hauler going from Shanghai, through the Taiwan Strait, with a stop in Taipei and then on to Manila. The ship did carry passengers, just not very many and they did it at a bargain cost with no frills. The accommodations were austere, but when he'd checked them out back in Manila he'd been told they turn a blind eye to practically everything. His plan was to stay glued to his prize.
Boiling water, he made himself a mug of 3in1 instant coffee, adding some additional sugar. Julia still wasn't showing signs of stirring when he finished the coffee, so he decided to take a walk.
Julia's building was on a side street, but close to a very busy feeder road for the city. When he stepped out of the front door he acknowledged the herbalist shop by purchasing a cup of green tea to carry. Glancing around, he noticed the block captain checking out his departure. The man had been on him like tics on an old dog since he'd come the first day with Julia. He introduced himself, making it known he ran this part of the city. At the time, Boris thought, "Wow, the entire block?" with disdain. However, he could see the fellow took note of everything that went on, more so with the non-locals it seemed. It made him wonder if there were block captains everywhere, and if so, just how observant they were.
He took off in the opposite direction at a leisurely pace, strolling along sipping his tea. When he came by a news stand he purchased the one and only paper printed in English. A Chinese newspaper with, he assumed, scrutinized, edited and approved articles about China, the rest of Asia and a smattering of European business interests. Folding it, he tucked it under his arm and wandered on until coming to a small noodle stand with an available chair and tiny table just off the sidewalk. He purchased a cup of noodles with an egg and cut up hot dogs in it and settled in to watch the passing crowd, drink his tea and eat his breakfast.
Having traveled from another of the oldest, largest, port-based cities in Asia, Boris didn't expect to find a lot of differences between the two cities. And in general, he didn't. Both cities were dirty, both were crowded with people, bicycles and other types of transport, and both sold almost anything you could want on the sidewalk. Growing up in Zambales, away from Manila, he knew his dad had shielded them from a lot of things that happened mostly in large cities. Crime, drugs, pollution, pure urban concrete jungle. Being in rural Philippines wasn't all perfect either. Most everyone was poor and people were the same everywhere you went. There were inherently good and absolutely bad everywhere. The pledge Boris made to himself long ago, was that he would not be one of the non-descript poor, scraping by day in and day out, not knowing exactly what they would eat for their next meal until they had it in their mouths. He would rather have money than integrity and would do whatever it took to know he would be warm and dry tonight as well as tomorrow. He’d seen too many men, women and children always looking for the next scrap they could sell or job they could do to make enough to buy a package of cigarettes or a beer to bring a tiny bit of pleasure into their mostly gray lives. He'd been around poverty all his life and had been very close to it when his mom died. Boris and his siblings were lucky though. Their dad was educated, skilled, and resourceful. He also had his health.
Across the road from the noodle shop was a small grassy space
that might have passed for an urban park, although park might have been too optimistic a description. Anyway, there was a group of elderly people doing Tai Chi. They would stretch, hold a pose, flow from that pose to another, stretch and hold again. Unfortunately for his appetite, he noticed one of them step aside and squat in a place slightly away from the rest of the class and relieve their bowels. While he'd seen that done in Manila, or even in Zambales, before, it was never done quite so openly and without a hint of embarrassment. He reminded himself to stick to the sidewalks, and even then, to look at where he was walking.
Since he was done with his breakfast, he decided to wander back and see if Julia was awake. He had a week in Shanghai yet and wanted to look at something other than the inside of a jazz club. For some reason he didn't understand, all the people on this sidewalk seemed to be traveling the same direction as him when he came to the noodle shop. Now as he was leaving they were still going in this same direction and he felt like a fish swimming upstream. He got back to Julia's building in time to see Captain Cho, the block captain, exit from an alley across the street, briefly looking in his direction as he did. Had the old guy just followed and observed him, totally unnoticed, during his entire walk and breakfast? He chuckled and thought it was quite possible. On that note, he decided to be more observant in the future.
When he arrived back at Julia's he listened outside the door for signs of her being awake. There were none. "She'll be awake soon," he thought, coming through the door and sparing no noise this time.
Julia had not been awake, either. "Shush, quiet, can't you see I'm still asleep?"
"It's almost 9:00 a.m., sister. Time stands still for no person."
"I don't need it to stand still. We didn't get home till 2:00 a.m., Bori."
"Come on, I've only got a week here, get up and show me around."
"What do you mean you only have a week, I thought you were on an open ended trip?" It was Julia's turn to be confused because she thought Boris would be with her for at least a month. Who would come all this way, by boat no less, for a week?
"Nope, I'm leaving a week from today. Arrangements are made. Show me something interesting in this city besides the inside of a jazz club."
"Okay, okay, go make me a coffee and read that propaganda piece you picked up." She indicated his English paper.
A little while later, Julia was hailing a cab and giving orders in broken Chinese with the aid of a couple of pieces of paper. They decided to head over to a market area where people bought and sold everything from rip offs of popular clothing brands (jeans, caps, purses and shoes) to hand crafted or painted bottles, balls, paintings, and jewelry. It was Friday, so it would be crowded, but Julia explained, "It's Shanghai, Bori, every day and every place is crowded."
They arrived at the market and Julia paid the cabbie with a few Yuan. She hooked her arm through his own and started leading him down the sidewalk, elbowing by people here and there as she went, speaking tiny bits of Chinese in order to blend in. "Let's go in here," she said, yanking his arm to direct him into a jewelry store piled with pearl necklaces. She began trying on choker necklaces and left Boris to stare awkwardly at the one hundred plus year old woman who apparently ran the shop. She looked tiny and sat on a wooden bench in the center-back of the shop. Her eyes were closed and her mouth sagged open just a tiny bit. Boris was fascinated by the lines around her eyes and her nearly toothless mouth.
"How much?" Julia asked, in Chinese, pointing to a strand of pearls she had fastened around her neck.
"Eight thousand," The old woman answered. Boris hadn't taken his eyes off her. And she hadn't opened her eyes. He scrutinized her closely for a few minutes until he heard Julia say again, "How about this one, how much?"
"Eight thousand," the wizened woman holding blind court with the room again quickly answered.
Boris chuckled to himself. Apparently everything in the store was eight thousand. He stepped out of the traction grip of the blind eyes and glanced around, figuring he'd never find anything of interest. However, when he looked at the scuffed up glass topped case to his right he saw a flash of gold. Among the pearl necklaces, rings, ear-rings, bracelets, etcetera, a single Spanish gold doubloon lay nearly hidden from view.
Reaching in, he pulled it out and looked at it, turning it over in his fingers. It looked identical to the thirteen hundred or so that he had well-hidden back within their luggage in Julia's apartment. Looking closely as he turned it he could see a slight greying of the coin in the areas of the scuff marks. This coin was not gold. It was probably only plated. Glancing at the blind eye, he turned to Julia who was watching him and indicated she should ask for a price on the piece he held. "How much for that?" She pointed at her brother and the golden piece he held in his hand.
Without either turning her head or opening her eyes, the shop keeper answered, "That piece isn't for sale. It is only for enlightenment."
The shop keeper didn't watch them leave, but said goodbye just as they turned to head out the door.
"Okay, that was creepy. What's up with the whole closed eyes thing?" Julia shuddered and hooked her arm back through Boris' own.
"Who knows? What about those pearls, anyway, why didn't you buy anything?" Boris asked.
"Are you kidding? I can't afford those prices. I just wanted to take a look because I've had a couple people tell me that if you want to find excellent quality, real pearls, that's the place to go. Nothing cultured there. Apparently people walk in there with wads of cash and leave with bags of pearl jewelry."
The next place Julia stopped was…another jewelry store. This one also sold pearls, but the prices were clearly marked on each piece and all of the three clerks taking care of business with customers had their eyes wide open. Julia tried on a choker strand of black cultured pearls that made her thick, beautiful hair pop like her face was an artist's portrait. The price tag stated two hundred twenty five and she took it off, frowned and casually remarked, "One hundred," to the clerk closest to her.
Looking up at her, he ignored her offer and went back to rearranging, for the tenth time, the interior of the case in front of him.
"One hundred thirty," she said, upping her bid.
The clerk set the ring with the huge, clear, purple gem in it back in the case, straightening it by two degrees. "One hundred ninety five," he countered.
Pursing her lips into a pout, Julia offered, "One hundred fifty."
Sighing, the clerk retaliated, "One eighty five."
Julia set the necklace randomly back in the case, turned and took her brother's arm again.
From behind her the clerk said, "One sixty."
She swung around, grabbed up the piece and counted out the cash, then locked the clasp on her neck. Boris guessed she didn’t want the clerk to have a chance to exchange the necklace she had picked out for one of lesser quality as he packaged it for her. She smiled at him, took his arm again, and led him out of the store.
Seeing what looked like a tea garden in the middle of a pond, Boris asked Julia if she'd like a coffee or a tea.
"I'd love one, Bori. And this tea house is supposed to have delicious cakes."
He glanced around just to acquaint himself with the landscape again and saw Captain Cho as he exited the first pearl shop he and his sister had visited.
When they were seated Boris asked her about the block captain, "Tell me about this Lian Cho. What's he about anyway? And what exactly is a block captain?"
"Lian seems like a pretty good egg, really. He's very curious about non-residents, as you found out. He knows pretty much everything you might want to know about our neighborhood, that's for sure. And block captains…it's how the Chinese police organize, I guess. Kind of like a strict Dad to everyone." She ordered a white tea and one of the special sweet cakes from the server. "Oh, yeah, and they're all part of the 'party', too. Probably eyes and ears and all that."
They quietly sipped tea and munched the cakes for a while before Julia offered one last comment, almost as
an afterthought, "He might be pretty interested in you, I suppose."
"Why is that?" Boris asked.
"Well, don't you remember he reviewed your papers when we first came?" She looked at him for a moment, "He often takes people’s papers for a day or two. He gave yours back pretty quickly. It might have something to do with the fact that you have a letter from the mayor of Manila in there that requests special treatment. If he could learn something interesting about you that the party didn't know, it might be a feather in his rather drab hat."
Boris looked away and thought, "It might be at that."
Getting to Know the Block Captain 1982
After the visit with his sister to Bongtai market and being followed by Captain Cho, Boris spent the majority of the next day getting familiar with the party man cum block captain. When he wandered down and out of the apartment in the morning, instead of heading toward the coffee and newspaper as he did the day before, he turned the other direction and walked up to Captain Cho’s little square office. Just as he suspected, Captain Cho was there and he showed surprise when the Filipino guest in his block started heading toward him and raised a hand in greeting, "Hello, Captain Cho! I trust your day is beginning well?"
Captain Cho, his face recovering from his initial surprise quickly, sat just a bit straighter in his chair and answered with a rueful smile, "Ah it is not the beginning, but so far the fish are still swimming and the birds are still flying."
"And if you must be up so early to do this ‘captain's work’, I’m afraid it would be much too tiring for a fat Filipino such as me," He chuckled merrily as he said it. "Could you be lured into sharing a cup of coffee with a lazy tourist?"
The captain looked around his desk, which was awash with papers that looked extremely old and unimportant and covered in the ashes of a week's worth of cigarettes, and indicated that he might be too busy.
"I mean, I’d like to buy you a cup outside this office so you could take a break from the strain," Boris clarified.
Game of Wit and Chance_Beginnings Page 10
