by Ian Hamilton
But if it wasn’t Ren, then who? Once he’d discounted Ren, the list became rather long. Ma had been a triad for his entire adult life. How many enemies had he made during that time? How many of them would be unhappy enough about the prospect of his becoming Mountain Master that they would take action? There was too much hatred, jealousy, and rivalry among gang members to discount the possibility that his death had been triggered by personal animosity.
Then there were the gangs around Fanling who coveted their turf. Was taking out Ma another message, another step towards an attempted takeover? Was killing Ma an attempt to make them more vulnerable, to soften their resolve? What sense did that make? Anyone who knew anything about the gang would know that Ma was no fighter, and that killing him would only put Fanling more on guard.
Chow needed to talk to Sammy Wing again, he decided. He reached for a notebook he kept by the chair, found Wing’s number, and dialled.
“Wei,” Sammy said.
“It’s Uncle.”
“I thought you’d call.”
“I wanted to talk to you at the funeral home, but you left rather quickly.”
“We all left quickly. No one wanted to be around that mess.”
“How did your boss react?”
“Uncle, I’m not sure we should be having this talk.”
“I didn’t start this conversation. You did, at Happy Valley. I’m simply trying to continue it.”
“You have a point,” Sammy said.
“And the agreement to keep you out of it is still binding from my end,” Chow said. “So please, tell me how your boss reacted to the killing.”
Sammy hesitated and then said, “He was as angry as I’ve ever seen him. He was pissed off about the disrespect it showed to Gao. And that was compounded by the fact that he and the other Mountain Masters found themselves surrounded by what looked like half of the Hong Kong Police Force and confronted by a fucking Saracen.”
“You’re exaggerating about the number of cops.”
“But not about Chin’s anger.”
“Sammy, who did it?” Chow asked.
“I’m not going there, Uncle. I told you that at Happy Valley and I’m telling you the same thing now.”
“Are you telling me that you know but won’t tell me, or that you don’t know and don’t want to speculate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Chin must have talked with you about it.”
“I’m not going to share with you what the boss and I have discussed.”
“Sammy, please,” Chow said. “You know I have tremendous regard for Chin — he’s one of the smartest Mountain Masters I’ve ever encountered. I’m just curious about his reaction. You don’t have to name names.”
“All I’ll say is that the boss thinks the killing may have nothing to do with Ma. He was a lightweight, hardly considered a threat by anyone. Gao, though, was a man everyone took seriously. He kept Fanling secure, but over the years that made him a lot of enemies. There were people who would be happy to see him die, and maybe that wasn’t enough for someone. Perhaps they wanted to ruin his funeral, shit on his memory.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Chow said.
“You asked me how the boss reacted.”
“I’m more inclined to think that what you told me at Happy Valley has more bearing.”
“You can think whatever you want,” Sammy said. “The only thing I’ll stress is that the boss’s determination to stay out of feuds in the Territories has been strengthened threefold. He will not get dragged into whatever is going on out there.”
“I get that, and that wasn’t my intention. I haven’t mentioned your names or Wanchai since we talked,” Chow said. “I’m just wondering if you’ve heard anything else that might be helpful. And Sammy, like I said, my promise to keep it between us is still good.”
“Haven’t I told you enough, then and now?”
“You didn’t tell me Ma was a target.”
“But I did say there was danger on your borders. It was up to you to take precautions.”
“That’s true, and obviously we didn’t do enough,” Chow said. “What more can we expect?”
“How would I know?”
“I suspect you know something.”
“Chin did say something you should pay attention to. He said that once there’s fresh meat on the ground, the vultures will descend to pick at the carcass.”
“Who are the vultures?”
“He didn’t say. Even if he had, I wouldn’t repeat it.”
“Who do you think they are?”
“Fuck off, Uncle,” Sammy said.
“Not even a hint?”
“No.”
“Tso?”
“You can throw ten more names at me but I won’t guess. And guessing is what it would be, because I don’t know.”
“Well, whoever it is, I want you to tell your boss that we won’t just sit back and let someone run over us.”
“Who is ‘we’? When did you become Mountain Master of Fanling?”
“You know that will never happen.”
“Right. Chin assumes it will be Ren.”
“That’s a safe assumption.”
“If it is Ren, what makes you think he won’t just sit back? He’s never been particularly aggressive.”
“We have Wang.”
“Wang is a good man, but who’s going to give him the orders?”
“What makes you think Ren won’t?”
Sammy Wing hesitated. “I’ve said too much already. You always get me going.”
“As you said at the track, we young guys have to stick together.”
“There will be no more sticking tonight.”
Chow lit another cigarette, inhaled deeply, and blew smoke towards the window. “Thanks for taking my call, Sammy. I appreciate it.”
“As I said at the track, the boss has a lot of time for you. But Uncle, stay out of trouble.”
“I won’t go looking for it, but I won’t run if it finds me,” Chow said, and ended the conversation.
He stared out at the street. Sammy Wing couldn’t have made it clearer that Fanling had enemies on its borders and that men as senior as Chin doubted its ability to defeat them. He reached for the phone again and dialled.
“This is the Zhang residence,” a woman answered.
Chow recognized the voice of Zhang’s housekeeper. “This is Chow Tung. Is the Superintendent home yet?”
“No, he isn’t.”
Chow was disappointed but not surprised. He was sure the day’s events at the Hop Sing Funeral Home were keeping Zhang busy. “When he gets home, could you please tell him that I called, and that I would like to speak to him tonight. I’ll be out myself until nine or ten. He can call any time after that. I don’t care how late it is.”
“I’ll let him know,” she said.
Chow checked the time. If he was going to get something to eat before the meeting, he needed to leave the apartment right away. He started to rise out of the chair but was stopped by the phone ringing.
“It’s Wang.”
“I looked for you at the funeral home,” Chow said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m still stunned. You would think that after all these years I’d be beyond that. I guess not.”
“Who do you think is responsible?”
“I have no idea. The reason I left so quickly was that I wanted to grab some of the other Red Poles before they could disappear. They were as stunned and surprised as me, and they all claimed to know absolutely nothing about what happened.”
“Do you believe them?”
“What difference does it make? Either way, we don’t have a name to attach to the killing.”
“I spoke to my contact from Hong Kong, the one who approached me at Happy Valley,” Chow
said. “He danced around the subject and didn’t say anything specific, but he implied that it could be connected to the move against us.”
“I’m thinking along the same lines. I have all my men on the streets right now, and they’ll be there all night.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that you aren’t on top of things.”
“I didn’t take it that way. Who could have expected this? Who takes out a second Mountain Master during the funeral service for the first?”
“Did Yu speak to you?”
“He did.”
“Did he spin his conspiracy theory about Ren?”
“He did. I listened and said nothing.”
“Do you think there could be any substance to what he thinks?”
“It’s dangerous to speculate along those lines. He needs to be careful about what he says and to whom. We need to be united right now, and that kind of talk is divisive.”
“Still, between us, you can’t deny that even if Ren wasn’t involved in this, he is the one who benefits most from it.”
“Of course I can’t deny it, but we don’t have any facts. This is a time to keep our ears and minds wide open,” Wang said. “And that brings me to the reason I called you. How are we going to handle the meeting tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ren is acting Mountain Master, and he’s not wasting any time making decisions.”
“What kind of decisions?”
“He intends to promote Pang to acting Vanguard and he’s going to name Hou as Incense Master. I expect that once that’s done, he’ll propose to the committee that we postpone Monday’s election indefinitely or ask us to confirm him as permanent Mountain Master. With Pang and Hou, he has three votes. All he needs is one more.”
“He won’t get my vote. He might get it on Monday, but not tonight.”
“Under any circumstances?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I heard he’s also thinking about making you Deputy Mountain Master.”
“Who told you this?”
“Forty-niners tend to stay loyal to their Red Pole. I can’t say more than that.”
Chow sighed, not sure how much he should believe. “Listen to me, Wang. Ren hasn’t offered me anything, and if he does, I’ll tell him no. I’m not going to be bought off.”
“I thought that would be the case, but I’m still pleased to hear you say it,” Wang said. “But what do you think about the idea of postponing the vote?”
“Postponing it would only leave things hanging and create uncertainty. Outsiders need to know that we have stable, long-term leadership and that we’re unified. The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we’ll appear. We need to re-establish some semblance of normalcy.”
“Even if we’re trying to unify behind a man we have doubts about?”
“Tian Longwei said something to me a few days ago that struck home. He said you can’t predict what kind of Mountain Master someone will be until he is in the job and facing its challenges. Let’s hope Ren rises to those challenges.”
“Amen to that,” Wang said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Assuming that neither of us gets shot before seven.”
( 20 )
At six-thirty, Chow slid from his chair and went to the bathroom to freshen up. He hadn’t eaten, but his conversation with Wang had ruined whatever appetite he had. His focus was now entirely on the evening’s meeting.
The sun had almost set and it would be dark by seven. Darkness suited his mood. Ma’s murder had changed the dynamic. A vague outside threat had turned into reality. The continuity that Ma had represented, at least in theory, had been badly disrupted. Doubts about Ren filled his head, among them renewed suspicion about Ren’s dinner with Tso in Kowloon. Then it dawned on him that he hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Wang. Ma’s announcement that Ren had pledged his support had put those concerns briefly to rest. Ma’s death had resurrected them, but only gradually, and not until he’d finished his phone call with Wang. He made a mental note to tell Wang the first chance he had.
Chow thought about the meeting. He wondered if Wang was right about Ren’s plans, and if he was, how aggressively Ren would push them. They couldn’t prevent Ren from promoting Pang or appointing Hou, but they could stop him from hijacking the election. And what about the election? Despite his fears about Ren, Chow could not bring himself to believe he had anything to do with Ma’s death, or Gao’s for that matter, because the two could be linked. The two men had been Ren’s colleagues for decades. Chow had never heard Ren say anything negative about either of them, and he had never heard Ren talk or act in any way that suggested he had secret ambitions.
Ren deserved the benefit of the doubt, Chow thought — but only up to a point, and that point was how he conducted himself at the meeting. What do I want from him? Some thoughtful reasoning about who might be behind Ma’s killing, why it might have happened, what it means for the gang, and what plans he has to stabilize the situation. Give me those things and I’ll find a way to convince myself to support him.
Chow was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he was startled when someone spoke his name. He was about a hundred metres from the office, and a forty-niner was standing in a shop doorway. “I hope I didn’t disturb you, Uncle.”
“No, not at all,” Chow said, and then looked closer at his surroundings. The street was peppered with forty-niners. Wang wasn’t taking any chances.
Chow entered the office building. As he climbed the stairs he heard voices, several of them sounding stressed and excited. When he walked into the common area, he saw that the boardroom door was open and that he was the last to arrive. He took a seat next to Wang. Then he noticed a new face at the table.
“You know Hou?” Ren asked.
“We were Blue Lanterns and forty-niners together.”
“I’ve appointed him acting Incense Master. I don’t think he should be confirmed as permanent until we have a new permanent Mountain Master.”
“Still, congratulations,” Chow said to Hou, a tall, thin man with a long nose, pointed chin, and shaved head. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt. Under the shirt, Chow knew, his arms were heavily tattooed.
“I’m honoured,” Hou said.
“Since Hou is to be Incense Master, I assume Pang has become either the acting Vanguard or Deputy Mountain Master.”
“Vanguard,” Ren said.
“Great choice,” Chow said.
Ren looked at him from across the table. “I’ve decided to hold off naming a new Deputy Mountain Master for now.”
If that was an attempt to be subtle, Chow thought, it wasn’t very well done. “That seems like the right decision,” he said.
Ren nodded and then lowered his head. “Now, unfortunately, we have to talk about what happened today at the funeral. It was shocking and tragic, it made a mockery of Gao’s funeral, and, to be blunt, it didn’t do us any credit.”
“Are you suggesting it could have been prevented?” Wang said, leaning forward.
“I’m not the Red Pole. That is your responsibility and your area of expertise — as much as anyone can be an expert in such matters,” Ren said. “But no, I’m not suggesting it could have been prevented. I’m simply pointing out that it was regrettable on so many levels that it wasn’t.”
“The only question I have is, who was behind this? Who killed Ma?” Yu said.
No one answered, but Chow saw Pang glance at Ren. “I believe Ren may have some information for us in that regard,” Pang said finally.
Ren raised his head, put his hands in front of his mouth, spread his fingers, and put their tips together. It was a mannerism Chow had seen Gao display many times, but never Ren, until now. “I spoke with some of the Mountain Masters at the funeral home, then about an hour ago I called others I know well. They told me they think Ma’s death wa
s an aberration. They think it was most likely an act of personal vengeance and nothing more. It’s still a terrible thing, but —”
“Which Mountain Masters did you speak to?” Yu interrupted.
“Sha Tin, Kowloon, Central, Tai Po, and Mong Kok.”
“And they all said that?”
“Two of them did. I won’t be any more specific.”
“We’re expected to accept that at face value?” Yu asked.
“Yes, you are,” Ren said.
“And why wouldn’t you?” Pang said.
“Because I want to know who killed Ma.”
“They don’t know or they wouldn’t say. I’m not sure there’s anything to be gained by pursuing that right now,” Ren said.
“Is that your decision?”
“It’s my suggestion.”
“And if I disagree?”
“Then it can be my decision,” Ren said.
“That’s shit.”
“Listen, I know we’re all upset about what happened today, but we can’t let it cloud our judgement,” Ren said. “If this is an isolated event, as I’m told it is, we need to stay calm and not start lashing out wildly and blindly.”
“What if it isn’t isolated?” Chow asked.
“What are you getting at?” Ren said.
“What if Gao’s death was deliberate? What if it wasn’t an accident?”
“The police have ruled it an accident. Knowing that it was Gao who was involved, I can’t imagine them making that decision unless they were completely certain,” Ren said.
“Wang, I know you have men stationed all over town. Have there been any warning signs, any alarms since this afternoon?” Pang asked.
