Fate

by Ian Hamilton

  “No.”

  “Do you have any reason to be worried about our security?”

  “Not right now, but I share Uncle’s concerns about this not being an isolated incident.”

  “You wouldn’t be doing your job if you didn’t take every possibility into account,” Pang said. “But is there anything concrete that you can report?”

  “Only rumours that a neighbouring gang or gangs are organizing to move onto our turf.”

  “Those are rumours you’ve been reporting for months,” Ren said. “But what’s actually happened?”

  “Gao and Ma are dead.”

  A heavy silence fell over the table. Chow could feel Yu’s anger and hoped he would restrain himself.

  After an awkward few minutes, Pang said, “I have a suggestion to make.”

  “Yes, what is it?” Ren said.

  “Ren, I know you haven’t asked me to do this, and you may not want me to, but under the circumstances I believe it’s exactly the right thing to do,” Pang said, and then looked pointedly at everyone sitting around the table. “I believe we should confirm Ren as Mountain Master.”

  “Not that again,” Chow said.

  “What do you mean?” Pang asked.

  “We just had this discussion. Ma wanted to be confirmed and we — which includes both you and Ren — agreed that we should have an election. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “The circumstances have changed.”

  “What’s changed? Wang tells us that the streets are quiet and his men are in control,” Chow said. “Ren says he believes Ma’s death was an aberration. What circumstances are you talking about? You’re talking out of both sides of your mouth.”

  “The men are uneasy. We need to let them know that things are normalizing.”

  “To my way of thinking, ‘normal’ would be letting them vote as planned on Monday,” Chow said.

  “Don’t you think that having a vote now would be a distraction, not to mention a colossal waste of time? We need to show the men that we’re unified in how we respond to Ma’s death,” Pang said.

  “The only response I’ve heard you and Ren make is that we shouldn’t bother trying to find out who killed him,” Yu said.

  “What good would that do? It would only lead to revenge killings. Where would that end?”

  “We can’t just ignore the fact that our acting Mountain Master and one of our Blue Lanterns were shot and left dead and on display in the courtyard of the funeral home where we were honouring our long-term Mountain Master,” Yu said.

  “Yu makes a valid point,” Chow said. “I believe we have an obligation to Ma, to his family, and to the gang to correct what’s happened. We can’t appear not to care and we can’t risk looking weak.”

  Ren leaned towards Chow. “All the other Mountain Masters know that we care; I made that clear enough to them. And they were the ones who advised a cautious approach until things settle. In their minds — and mine — being cautious right now is smart, not a sign of weakness. We should also remember how many policemen were there today. I’m sure they’re waiting for us to retaliate, for us to escalate the violence, so they have an excuse for bringing down the hammer on us and all the other gangs.”

  “I can understand why the other gangs would advise us to be cautious, but I’m also sure they’re doing that for reasons that serve their best interests,” Chow said.

  “I still say we need to find out who killed Ma,” Yu said. “We can’t ignore it.”

  “I’m not ignoring it,” Ren said. “All I’m suggesting is that we let things sit for a little while. At some point we’ll find out who did this and we’ll settle with them. But for now, we need to stay calm and not run around like chickens with their heads cut off.”

  “And stop acting like you’re the only person who’s upset about this,” Pang said to Yu.

  Yu started to respond but Chow interrupted. “Where does this leave us?”

  “I think Ren should be confirmed as Mountain Master. We have the authority to make that decision and I think it’s exactly what we should do,” Pang said.

  “We know where you stand,” Chow said. “What does everyone else think?”

  “I’m for it,” Hou said.

  “I’m against,” Yu said.

  Chow looked at Ren. “Are you going to vote for yourself?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “No. Ma didn’t, and it was the right and honourable decision.”

  “Then I won’t.”

  “So that leaves Uncle and Wang,” Pang said. “I’m hoping one of you is going to be sensible.”

  “I’ve already told you I want an election,” Chow said. “Why would you think I’ve changed my mind?”

  “I was hoping that Ren might have convinced you otherwise.”

  “He hasn’t.”

  “I’m not convinced either,” Wang said, and then looked at Ren. “I can see no harm in making you wait for two days to become Mountain Master. I’ll cast my vote on Monday, and not before.”

  ( 21 )

  Chow, Yu, and Wang left the office together and then separated. Chow started walking home but had gone only several hundred metres when he heard Wang shout, “Wait!”

  He stopped walking until Wang caught up, two forty-niners trailing about ten metres behind him. “I didn’t want to talk in front of Yu,” said Wang.

  “He is excitable.”

  “Do you want to grab a beer?” Wang asked. “There’s a bar just down the street.”

  “Sure.”

  Wang led them to a place that Chow, despite having been up and down the street countless times, had never noticed before. There was no sign indicating that it was a bar, or indeed a business of any kind. It was simply a long, narrow room that ran off the street, with a bar on the left and a shelf where you could rest your drink on the right. There were six stools at the bar but Wang went right past them to the far end of the room, where it was dark. He leaned on the bar. Chow joined him; when he looked back towards the entrance, he saw that the two forty-niners were flanking it.

  “This is a strange little place,” Chow said.

  “I’ve been coming here for years. It’s private, the beer is cold, and I like their fried grasshoppers.”

  “Fried grasshoppers?”

  “It’s a house specialty. They remind me of Guangzhou.”

  A small, grey-haired man wearing a blue apron left two customers at the front of the bar and came to them. “Good to see you,” he said to Wang.

  “San Miguel and grasshoppers,” Wang said.

  “San Miguel,” Chow said.

  “You have to try some of my grasshoppers. They go perfectly with beer,” Wang said. He waited for the man to leave before adding, “Well, that meeting was crap.”

  “Why do you sound surprised? It went exactly as you predicted.”

  “But I didn’t expect him to spin that bullshit story about Ma’s death being an act of personal vengeance.”

  “You didn’t believe him? Not even a little?”

  “Did you?”

  “It is convenient, and it’s the same story my Happy Valley contact tried to convince me is possible. At least, it was one of his scenarios. The other one, which he hasn’t abandoned, is that we have nasty neighbours.”

  “Maybe you and Ren were talking to the same person.”

  “I doubt it. Perhaps that’s what he was told and he just wants to believe it.”

  “Well, I’m not buying it,” Wang said. “You’re right that it’s what he may have been told, but it’s insulting to expect us to believe it. Having nasty neighbours makes far more sense.”

  The barman approached with the two beers.

  “Ganbei,” Wang said.

  They tapped bottles and drank.

  “What do you really think happened to Ma?
” Wang said after a second slug.

  “The way you ask that question reminds me of Yu.”

  “The fact that Yu has a theory neither of us wants to believe doesn’t make him wrong,” Wang said. “I was neutral, or leaning towards not believing him, until I heard Ren’s bullshit story. It made me stop and think that maybe Yu has a point.”

  “But you don’t know that what Ren said is bullshit.”

  “Be truthful,” Wang said, lightly touching Chow’s arm. “Do you really believe Ma was killed in an act of personal vengeance?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would someone with as much experience as Ren believe it, or at least pretend that he does?”

  “I think it’s likely that he spoke to some other Mountain Masters. I think it’s possible that one or more of them threw out the personal vengeance idea. After that, I don’t know.”

  “I know you don’t want to think the worst of Ren — neither do I — but let me ask you again. Do you really think he believes Ma’s death was an act of personal vengeance?”

  “That is an incredibly difficult question to answer.”

  “But that’s where we are.”

  The barman reappeared, carrying a large bowl. He put it in front of Wang.

  “Bring two more beers in about five minutes,” Wang said.

  Chow looked into the bowl and saw what were clearly grasshoppers, their wrinkled bodies brown and crispy, their legs thin and frail-looking.

  Wang reached into the bowl and started to eat, the insects crunching audibly in his mouth. “The only thing I don’t like about eating these is that the legs get stuck between your teeth,” he said. “Try some.”

  “I’ll pass,” Chow said.

  “Are you also going to pass on my question about Ren?”

  “No, I’m not. I don’t think he really believes it was an act of vengeance, but it’s a reason and it’s convenient,” Chow said.

  “So how are we supposed to believe anything else he tells us?”

  “I’m not sure. In fact, I have something to tell you that adds to my doubts,” Chow said, watching Wang prepare to put several grasshoppers into his mouth.

  “What?” Wang said, squeezing the fried insects between his fingers.

  “The night before Gao’s wake, one of Tian’s men was in Kowloon and saw Ren having dinner with Tso.”

  “Tai Po Tso? Mountain Master Tso?”

  “The very same.”

  “Fuck . . . Tian’s man was sure about this? He saw them together on that specific night?”

  “That’s what Tian told me, and I have no reason not to believe him.”

  “It’s hard to think that was a coincidence.”

  “Although it may be one. They are old friends, so having dinner together wouldn’t be so odd.”

  “Except for the timing,” Wang said. “Have you asked Ren about this?”

  Chow shook his head. “The man was having dinner with a friend. What business is that of mine? What excuse could I have for asking him about it? I’d just sound foolish.”

  “I’m going to call some friends tomorrow, do a bit of poking around,” Wang said. He finished his beer and slammed the empty bottle onto the bar. The barman hurried towards them with two fresh bottles.

  “This will be the last one for me,” Chow said. “I won’t be staying much longer. I’m an early riser.”

  “And tomorrow is Sunday, so that usually means Happy Valley for you, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you intend to go tomorrow?”

  “Yes. I think it will take my mind off things,” Chow said.

  “Any chance you might bump into that source of yours and pump him for more information?”

  “If he’s there, you can count on me trying. But I don’t think he’ll be particularly forthcoming. He made it clear that he’s said all he’s going to say.”

  “I hate being in the fucking dark,” Wang said angrily. “We need someone to tell us the truth.”

  “I’m not sure it’s possible to find someone who both knows the truth and is willing to tell it to us.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “It leaves us having to put up with the situation as it is,” Wang said. “There’s the election on Monday, but that won’t change anything. Ren is the natural successor, and one sure thing I know about our men is that they respect the chain of command. Even when you were trying to promote Ren over Ma for Mountain Master, I never believed the rank and file would bring themselves to vote against Ma.”

  “That seems like a long time ago,” Chow said.

  “Doesn’t it.”

  Chow drained his beer. “I should get going.”

  “If you need me tomorrow, I’ll be at one of the betting shops. As you know, it’s our busiest day of the week. I generally circulate among them to keep an eye on things. Tomorrow I’ll have more reason than usual to do that.”

  “Do you want me to stay in Fanling?” Chow asked, feeling guilty.

  “No, go to the track. There would be nothing for you to do here. The men know their jobs. You’d only get in the way.”

  “Will you have extra men on duty tomorrow?”

  “I’ll have everyone I can get, both in the shops and on the street. We should be able to handle whatever pops up.”

  “The gang needs to add more men,” Chow said.

  “So Gao kept saying, but he never did anything about it. We’re too limited in manpower compared to Tai Po and Sha Tin. Right now, I sure wish we weren’t.”

  ( 22 )

  Chow bought a racing form on his way home from the bar. He was tired and emotionally spent but he knew sleep wouldn’t be coming easily, if it came at all; the form would provide some distraction.

  It was a typically busy Saturday night in the restaurants and bars he passed, and there were lots of people out on the street. He saw a steady stream of green taxis, their colour identifying them as coming from the New Territories, and an unusually large number of red taxis, which were registered in Hong Kong. Red taxis weren’t an uncommon sight in Fanling, but he couldn’t help wondering why there were so many. Then he realized he was being a touch paranoid.

  When he entered his apartment, Chow put the racing form on the table by his chair and went to the fridge to get a beer. He walked back to the chair but, rather than sitting down, he opened the window, lit a cigarette, and stood looking out onto the street as he smoked and drank. He had promised to call Xu and Fong and wished he hadn’t. His two friends would be looking for answers, for some level of certainty from him, and he didn’t have much to give. He phoned them anyway.

  The conversations were brief as he told them about Hou’s appointment, Pang’s promotion, and the decision to proceed with the election on Monday. He didn’t mention the concerns that he, Yu, and Wang shared about Ren, and when asked about Ma’s death, he said there had been a lot of speculation that wasn’t worth repeating. Fong took Chow’s answers, as he always did, at face value. Xu pushed for more detail about Ma.

  “Look, Ma is dead. I’m sure we’ll find out more about what happened, and why, in the coming days. For now, leave it alone,” Chow said, knowing Xu would be frustrated by his answer.

  Xu hesitated as if he wanted to argue but then switched topics. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  “Unless something dramatic happens, the same as usual; I’ll be going to Happy Valley. I volunteered to stay in Fanling, but Wang told me there isn’t any need.”

  “I can’t remember you missing a single day at the races.”

  “And I can’t remember a stranger day than today. Maybe this is a weekend for firsts.”

  After he ended the call with Xu, Chow went to the fridge for another beer. He was getting close to his capacity. H
e fell back into his chair, reached for the phone again, and dialled Sammy Wing’s number. He got an answering machine. “Sammy, it’s Uncle calling. I’d like to follow up on the talk we had today. I plan to be at Happy Valley tomorrow, and I’d appreciate it if you could meet me there at the same spot as before.”

  He picked up the form and opened it to the first race. Before he could complete even a rudimentary analysis, the phone rang. He answered, thinking it would be Sammy Wing.

  “Uncle, it’s Zhang. My housekeeper told me you called earlier. I’m glad you didn’t make me reach out to you first, or I would be even angrier than I am,” he said. “Now tell me, what the fuck are you people doing? Do you have any idea how big a mess you’ve created, first with Gao and now with Ma and that young man?”

  Zhang’s full name was Zhang Delun. He was now, as Tian had mentioned the night before, a superintendent with the Hong Kong police. Specifically, he was in charge of the Fanling/Sha Tin District within the New Territories Northern Division.

  “We don’t like it any more than you do, and we didn’t create this mess,” Chow said. He was accustomed to Zhang’s direct style.

  The two men had been friends — or associates, as Zhang preferred to say — for almost nine years. Zhang was several years older than Chow. When Tian had brought them together initially, Zhang was already well into a promising career, while Chow was just beginning his.

  Zhang’s father had been a triad in Guangzhou; he had escaped with his family to Hong Kong when Mao began his purge of the triads. He died shortly after his arrival, before he could really establish himself within the Fanling gang. Tian had known him only briefly but, following the edict of the first of the Thirty-Six Oaths, he’d provided for the wife and son.

  Tian had no children of his own, but he didn’t try to play father to young Zhang. He was more like an uncle, there for a helping hand or advice whenever it was needed. When Zhang came to him and said he intended to join the Hong Kong Police Force, Tian was surprised but genuinely wished him every success.

  Tian had taken a similar interest in the young Chow Tung when he joined the Fanling triads, and eventually he brought his two charges together. “You are two young men who can help each other,” he told them. “You don’t have to be friends, but you also don’t have to be enemies. Find a middle ground where you can coexist without betraying your primary obligations.”