by Ian Hamilton
Chow opened his newspaper when she left and turned to the racing page. He scanned the handicapper’s comments on each race and made a mental note of his picks. They had chosen the same potential winner for three of the ten races. He sighed. Normally this handicapper’s picks were heavily bet on, and Chow didn’t like betting on favourites or short odds. He would have to rework those three races and see if he could find another horse to back.
The congee and accompaniments arrived and he turned his attention to breakfast. As soon as he was finished, Jia came back to the table. “Can I get you more of anything?”
“No food, but I’ll have more tea.”
As she turned to go, he saw a young man step inside the restaurant and look in his direction. It was Wu, a Blue Lantern who reported to Wang but was assigned to Gao as his driver. “Wu,” Chow said loudly. “Are you looking for me?”
Wu nodded and hurried towards him. “Good morning, Uncle. I’ve been waiting outside. It is already past eight and I was beginning to think I’d come to the wrong place.”
Chow checked his watch. “I lost track of time. I’ll be with you in a minute.” He took a Hong Kong hundred-dollar note from his pocket, put it on the table, picked up his racing form and pen, and then slid from the booth. “Let’s go.”
When they reached the grey Mercedes idling on the street, Wu stepped in front of Chow and opened the back door for him. Chow had been prepared to sit in the front, but he quietly appreciated the show of respect. He climbed into the car and promptly reopened his racing form.
Sha Tin was about twenty kilometres southeast of Fanling, on the way to Kowloon. Traffic was light, Wu drove quickly, and the car reached Sha Tin at 8:25. He came to a stop across the street from a twenty-storey apartment building.
“I have to let the boss know we’re here,” Wu said, getting out of the car. He ran across the street and entered the building’s lobby. Chow could see him speaking into the intercom. When he was finished, he stepped back and gave Chow a thumbs-up.
Chow put his racing form to one side and started to gather himself for another conversation about the viability of the night market. He understood that he was asking his colleagues to give up a sure thing — their protection racket — in exchange for income that was only hypothetical. He’d faced the same argument when he proposed getting rid of the bookies and opening off-track betting shops. But Chow had prevailed, and within a few months the gang’s income from those shops was triple what the bookies had brought in previously. One reason for that growth was that the safe, comfortable environment of the shops attracted new customers from surrounding towns. Chow hoped the night market would likewise attract people from beyond Fanling, but he hadn’t built that into his projections. Maybe I should have, he thought.
He looked towards the apartment building and saw Gao walking across the lobby. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the night before and looked like he hadn’t had much sleep. Wu went to the lobby door and opened it for his boss. Gao exited and Wu followed, careful to stay several respectful steps behind.
Chow climbed out of the car to greet Gao. The Mountain Master stepped off the sidewalk and started to cross the street, walking with his head down. Just then Chow heard a noise and looked to his left. A white panel van was pulling away from the curb in a hurry. The van’s speed increased as it headed straight for him.
“Look out!” Chow shouted.
Gao raised his head in Chow’s direction, then looked quickly in the direction of the van barrelling towards him. He took several rapid steps backwards. Chow saw the van swerve slightly and thought the driver had seen Gao and was trying to avoid him. He was wrong. Chow heard a dull thud, the sound of breaking glass, and Wu screaming. Gao’s retreat had changed the angle of impact just enough so the van didn’t hit him head-on, but it had hit him all the same, the right fender smashing into his side. Gao’s body was airborne for a few seconds before crashing headfirst onto the pavement.
Chow stood transfixed. He looked in the direction of the van, expecting it to stop. As it disappeared around the corner, the realization of what had just happened hit him. He ran towards Gao. Wu was already there, his body shaking as he stood over their boss.
“We need an ambulance,” Chow said. “There’s a payphone on the corner. Call for one, and make sure they know it’s a real emergency.”
“Is he dead?” Wu asked.
Chow knelt down by Gao, took his wrist, and felt for a pulse. “He’s alive, but he won’t be for much longer unless you get an ambulance here now.”
“I didn’t see the van until it was too late,” Wu said.
“Forget about the van. We need an ambulance. Now get going!”
Wu nodded and started to run towards the phone booth.
Chow looked down at Gao and felt ill. The van had struck him on the right side of his body. His right arm, exposed by a short-sleeved shirt, was twisted out of shape, and Chow could see a sliver of bone protruding through the flesh. He was wearing jeans, so Chow couldn’t immediately see what damage had been done to his legs and hips, but there wasn’t much doubt that his head had taken a beating when it hit the pavement. There was blood seeping from his left ear, his nose was distorted and bloody, and his face was scraped and streaked with even more blood. Chow took off his suit jacket, gently raised Gao’s head, and slipped the jacket underneath.
Gao was unconscious. Chow felt for his pulse again; it was weak, but it was there.
“Is he alive?” a voice asked.
Chow looked up and saw an elderly man standing about ten metres away. Behind him, other people were coming out of the building and gathering on the sidewalk.
“He is, and we’re calling for an ambulance. I think it’s best if you stay back, and ask everyone else to do the same.”
“This is the third accident on this street this year, and it looks like it could be the worst,” the man said. “There’s a warehouse at the end of the street, and trucks and vans are always coming and going. Those drivers don’t care about pedestrians.”
“How did you know he was struck by a truck or van? Did you see the accident?”
“Yes. I was standing by my window having a cigarette. My wife can’t stand the smoke, so I blow it out the window,” he said. “The driver must not have seen him, because he didn’t slow down.”
“How could he not have seen him? My friend was in the middle of the road.”
“How would I know? That’s a question for the police.”
“But you saw what I saw, correct? A white panel van going full speed?”
“I saw a white panel van.”
“Did you notice any names or markings?”
“It seemed to be just a plain white panel van.”
“Did you see the licence plate?”
“No. Did you?”
Chow shook his head. “Has anyone in the building called the police yet?”
“I wouldn’t know. But I wouldn’t be surprised, they’re such a nosy bunch.”
Chow looked in the direction of the phone booth and saw Wu running back towards him. “Well?” he said when the Blue Lantern reached him.
“They’ll be here in about five minutes.”
“He’s been badly hurt. He’s going to need a lot of help,” Chow said.
Wu was still shaking and his face was pale. “I should have warned him,” he said.
“This isn’t your fault,” Chow said. “He’s a grown man who should know how to cross a road safely.”
The elderly man had gone back into the building, but the other people began to inch closer to get a better look.
“Stay back!” Chow shouted at them, and then looked at Wu. “Keep those people away from here. Tell them to get back in their building or at least stay on the sidewalk. This isn’t a freak show.”
While Wu wrangled the onlookers back towards the sidewalk, Chow considered w
hat his first responsibility would be after the ambulance arrived. Phone calls would have to be made. People needed to be told. He weighed his options and ended up with one name — Wang. He was the fixer, the man who had everyone’s phone number. He’d know better than anyone who to tell and when to tell them.
A siren sounded and Chow saw an ambulance at the head of the street. As it came to a stop in front of him, another siren sounded. A police car was starting down the street towards them.
What a disaster, Chow thought.
( 4 )
Chow and Wang sat in the waiting room of Our Lady of Maryknoll Hospital in Sha Tin. The only other occupants were a woman and the small child she was holding in her arms. Wang had arrived in a taxi half an hour after getting a phone call from Chow. Now, two hours later, they were still waiting for a medical update on Gao.
“What could be taking so long?” Wang asked.
“He had a lot of injuries. I’m sure it isn’t a case of just one thing needing fixing,” Chow said.
Wang looked at his watch. “Our meeting is supposed to begin in a few hours. I didn’t want to start making phone calls until I know how he is, but I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
“How about calling his wife?”
“I thought it was best if Ma phoned her. Their families have been close for years; he was the best man at their wedding.”
“I know his son, Chi. We were Blue Lanterns together for a few months, before he decided the life wasn’t for him and moved to Hong Kong and an office job,” Chow said. “He, Xu, and I have kept in touch and see one another a couple of times a year.”
“I remember him — he was a good guy. Would you mind calling him? He might be an even better choice to talk to the wife.”
“I don’t mind, but I’d still like to wait until I have something definite to say.”
The door leading into the emergency department opened and a nurse appeared. The two men looked at her expectantly, but she ignored them and motioned for the woman with the baby to follow her.
As the door closed behind them, Wang lit his tenth cigarette since arriving. “What can be taking so goddamn long?” he repeated.
As if on cue, the door swung open again and a man in a white jacket with a stethoscope around his neck walked through. Chow took one look at his face and anticipated the worst.
“Mr. Chow?” the man said.
Chow stood. “Yes, that’s me,”
“I’m Doctor Chiang. I’ve been treating Mr. Gao.”
“How is he?”
“We did everything we could,” Chiang said, not looking directly at them. “He had multiple broken bones and internal injuries, but the main problem was the damage to his brain. We were waiting for a neurosurgeon to operate, but I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Gao wasn’t able to hold out.”
“He’s dead?” Wang said, disbelief registering on his face.
“Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Wang said.
Now the doctor did look at them.
“Excuse my friend. This is a terrible shock,” Chow said.
“I understand, and I’m sorry I had to be the one to give you such bad news.”
“When news is this bad, there isn’t any right way to give it. I’m sure this is difficult for you as well,” Chow said.
“Thank you for understanding that. We are in the business of saving lives, and we take it badly when we’re unsuccessful,” Chiang said. “Now, unfortunately, we all have to move on, and that includes the matter of notifying the next of kin. We’ve been so busy treating Mr. Gao that we haven’t had a chance to contact his family.”
“If you don’t mind, we’ll look after that,” Chow said.
“That will be fine, but we’ll need to know who they are and how they want us to handle the body.”
“Of course,” Chow said. “I’ll call Mr. Gao’s son, Chi. I imagine he’ll make arrangements with a funeral home.”
The doctor nodded. “The police also have an interest in Mr. Gao’s case. They asked us to notify them if there were any dramatic changes. I’ll do that as soon as I go back inside.”
“Thank you for doing that, and for all of your efforts,” Chow said.
The doctor started to leave, then stopped and turned back to them. “If it makes it any easier, I don’t think the neurosurgeon would have made much difference. There was just too much damage.”
As the door closed behind Chiang, Chow sighed. “I’ll call Chi.”
“I’ll let Ma and Ren know. They can contact the others.”
“There are payphones on the wall by the door. We shouldn’t waste any more time. But make sure they know we’re trying to have Chi call his mother.”
“I will. They’ll probably be relieved that they don’t have to break the news to her,” Wang said. “One more thing, Uncle. I’m sure I’ll be asked if Gao’s death was accidental or not.”
“I really don’t know,” Chow said. “I didn’t see the van when I arrived with Wu, so it could have come from a warehouse like the neighbour suggested. And the driver could just have been inattentive.”
“The neighbour told you there have been similar accidents on the street?”
“He did, but I have trouble believing the driver didn’t see Gao. And if he did see him, why didn’t he slow down?”
“But you said the van swerved.”
“Yes, but I don’t know if it was trying to avoid Gao or hit him. One thing I’m certain of is that he maintained his speed.”
Wang shook his head. “We don’t need any confusion about this. Ma thinks in black-and-white terms. If there’s any doubt about what happened, he’ll run around like a chicken with its head cut off. I want to be able to tell him that it was an accident or it wasn’t.”
“I’d like to give you a more definite answer, but it isn’t that easy,” Chow said.
“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking,” Wang said slowly. “If it wasn’t an accident and was in fact deliberate, then the killer most likely would be someone from another gang. There have been rumours that some of the other gangs have been thinking about moving in on us. All the money you’ve been making for us with those betting shops and casinos has made us attractive.”
“Are you taking those rumours seriously?”
“Seriously enough that I made some calls,” Wang said. “The result was that I found nothing to worry me, but now Gao is dead. It would be stupid of me not to start worrying again.”
“But running someone down with a van is hardly what you would expect from a triad. If another gang wanted Gao dead, they would have shot him or used something more traditional.”
“Like a machete?”
“Yes. And there’s one more point. How would they have known he was spending the night with his girlfriend in Sha Tin rather than with his wife at home in Fanling? Someone would have had to leak that information, and the only people I can think of who knew were a handful of our own gang members at the dinner last night,” Chow said, and then paused. “I have real trouble believing that one of our people could be that disloyal, that much of a rat.”
“I agree, that’s not too likely,” Wang said. “So it seems to me that you and I are in agreement that if he was killed deliberately, it probably wasn’t by a triad.”
“I think we are.”
“That means that some civilian was responsible.”
“I guess it does.”
“What are the odds of that happening?”
“Not great. Not great at all,” Chow said.
“Again we agree. So where does that leave us?”
“It leaves us with you telling Ma that we think it was an accident, or at the very worst a hit-and-run by some bad driver.”
Wang nodded. “It would be beneficial to all of us if the police thought along the same lines. Could you call
your contact?”
“I’ll call him, but I can’t promise he’ll go along with us if the local cops think differently.”
“Still, it doesn’t hurt to ask.”
( 5 )
Chow and Wang walked over to the bank of phones. Chow put five cents into one that was as far away from Wang’s as he could get. He dialed Xu’s office number. When there was no answer, he phoned his home.
“Wei,” Xu’s wife answered, hesitantly.
“It’s Uncle. I’m sorry for calling the apartment, but I need to speak with Xu.”
“Just a minute.”
“Hey, what’s up?” Xu said seconds later.
“I need Gao Chi’s work number; I don’t have it with me,” Chow said. “And before you ask, I’m in Sha Tin, at Our Lady of Maryknoll Hospital, with Wang. Chi’s father was brought here this morning after getting hit by a van. He died about ten minutes ago.”
Xu didn’t reply right away. Chow figured he was connecting the dots. Then Xu blurted, “The Mountain Master is dead?”
“He is. And do me a favour — don’t ask for any details. Right now, all I want is Chi’s number. When things calm down, I’ll tell you what happened.”
“But —”
“But nothing. Just give me Chi’s phone number.”
Xu hesitated, then rattled off a phone number, which Chow wrote down on his racing form.
“Thanks. I’ll call you later. In the meantime, keep this to yourself.” Chow hung up and looked at Wang. The Red Pole’s back was to him, but his shoulders were heaving in all directions as he relayed the news to someone on the line.
Chow took several deep breaths and then called Chi’s Hong Kong number.
The phone rang five times before it was answered with a brisk “This is Chi.”
“And this is Chow from Fanling.”
“Uncle, this is unexpected.”
“Unfortunately it is also going to be unwelcome.”
The line went silent.
“It is bad news,” Chow continued.
“How bad?” Chi asked hesitantly.
“It couldn’t be much worse. Your father is dead.”
