by Ian Hamilton
Both Zhang and Chow were honest, straightforward, smart, and dedicated to their respective organizations. What made them useful to each other — which Tian had shrewdly observed — was that while they were dedicated, they weren’t blind to the weaknesses of their organizations or the strengths of the opposition. Zhang knew enough about the triads and their history to understand that they weren’t simply criminals, and he also understood that the regulations enforced by the Hong Kong police were sometimes out of step with the reality of Chinese culture and customs. Chow, for his part, accepted the need for policing; when his gang or others he knew first-hand failed to manage their affairs in a way that met his standards of human decency, he didn’t feel compelled to defend or protect them.
So, over the years, Zhang and Chow had traded information when their interests aligned, but no money had ever changed hands. If that had even been suggested by Zhang, Chow would have ended their relationship. He was certain Zhang would have reacted the same way if the suggestion had come from him.
Initially, given their relatively junior status in their organizations, the information they exchanged was basic. Zhang would warn Chow about raids on gambling dens or massage parlours; Chow would identify known rapists, pedophiles, and men who couldn’t contain their rage and took it out on innocents. When Zhang joined the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau, their mutual conflict of interest was so obvious that they communicated infrequently. But after he was assigned to regular police work in the New Territories Northern District, Zhang had contacted Chow. The two men had met at Tian’s apartment to hammer out an agreement over a few beers. Chow would do everything he could to keep the Fanling gang out of human trafficking, drugs, and loan sharking. Zhang agreed to turn a blind eye to the betting shops, mah-jong parlours, and massage parlours. They also agreed to share information that didn’t compromise their organizations.
Chow’s police contacts were the envy of the gang’s senior executives, and he’d been asked many times to reveal them. He never had and never would. The only person who knew of the relationship between Zhang and Chow was Tian. Not even Gao had known.
“If you didn’t create this mess, who did?” Zhang asked.
“We don’t know.”
“Do you know how stupid I look now because I classified Gao’s death as an accident?”
“It was a reasonable conclusion at the time.”
“But not now. My bosses are convinced that the deaths of Gao and Ma are linked. They want me to reopen Gao’s case.”
“And if you do?”
“The presumption will be that there is a gangland war going on, and we’ll be forced to assign more resources to combat it.”
“There is no war,” Chow said. “And speaking of resources, how did it happen that half the Hong Kong Police Force was at the funeral home today?”
“How often does a Mountain Master get buried? It was a chance to see who would attend and what kind of nonsense might go on. We were on standby, nothing more. And you should know by now that even on standby, we come out in numbers. But there was no expectation that there would be trouble, especially the kind we ended up with. If we’d known that, our numbers would have been double.”
“Can you calm things down on your end?”
“Under what pretext?”
“Not a pretext, but the fact that Gao’s death was an accident, Ma was killed in an act of personal vengeance, and there is no gang war.”
“Are those really facts?”
“No, but it will be better for all concerned if you treat them as such until I can confirm or deny them.”
“Do you have any idea who killed Ma and the other man?”
“No, not yet.”
Zhang hesitated and then said, “There’s a feeling at Headquarters that events are getting out of control in the New Territories. The last thing they want is for civilians to get caught in the middle.”
“You know that’s the last thing I want to happen.”
“I do, but it doesn’t mean you can prevent it.”
“Well, if we can’t, who will? If you get involved, it will be after the fact. Give us a chance to sort this out.”
“Sort out what? How?”
“Look, Gao’s death caught everyone by surprise. He was a strong, stabilizing figure. His departure left a leadership void that other gangs might have thought they could take advantage of. But we’ll have a new Mountain Master by Monday, and the first thing he’ll do is calm the waters.”
“Uncle, you aren’t raising my comfort level when you imply that another gang might have been responsible for these deaths.”
“Look, even if it was another gang, we don’t want the violence to escalate. We have businesses that we don’t want disrupted. We understand that when gangs fight each other, everyone loses. That’s why, for the past five years, we’ve managed to keep peace in this part of the Territories. It wasn’t always easy. There were provocations and disputes, but we managed to settle them without calling attention to ourselves or involving the police.”
“I know you did, and that’s why I give you as much rope as I do. Don’t disappoint me this time.”
“I won’t,” Chow said. “So, where does that leave us with regard to Headquarters?”
“I’ll tell them I still think Gao’s death was an accident and that Ma’s killing was a personal act of vengeance,” Zhang said. “They may not entirely believe me, but it should buy you some time to stabilize your situation. Once it is stable, the questions will stop. Did you say you’ll have a new Mountain Master by Monday?”
“Yes. We’re having an election.”
“Who’s most likely to win?”
“Ren.”
“I know the name but I don’t know much about him. What kind of man is he?”
The question caught Chow slightly off guard, and he struggled for a few seconds to find the right answer. Finally he said, “Solid.”
“That’s a good word to hear,” Zhang said.
“Well, he’s a good man.”
“Stay in touch, Uncle,” Zhang said. “I need to know if anything changes.”
“You’ll hear from me,” Chow said.
He sighed in relief as he put down the phone. Chow didn’t take Zhang’s support for granted. He treated every conversation as if it were their first, as if they had to find common ground and determine how much trust could be extended. He had never knowingly lied to Zhang, and he’d never felt lied to. There had been times when he couldn’t tell the entire truth, and he knew that cut both ways. Even so, he understood that this was a relationship that could end in a heartbeat; it amazed him that it had lasted as long as it had.
Chow got out of his chair and went to the bathroom. When he came back, he debated having one last beer but decided against it. His head was already feeling a bit woolly and he hadn’t done any handicapping yet. He sat down, picked up the racing form, and focused his attention on the first race, a thousand-metre sprint for colts and geldings four years and older. He worked diligently on that race and then the others for several hours, the form’s facts and figures displacing the worries that had filled his head. When he started to yawn and his eyes began to close, he put down the form and headed to the bedroom before he could fall asleep in the chair one more time.
He slept unusually well, and if he dreamed, he wasn’t aware of it. When he woke, the sun was streaming through the window onto his face. He blinked, shook a head that felt groggy, and licked lips that were dry. He went into the kitchen, drank two glasses of water, and then went to get his cigarettes and black Zippo lighter, which had been left with his watch and the racing form on the table by the chair. He lit up and looked at his watch. It was almost nine o’clock. This was the second time in less than a week that he’d slept well into the morning; his normal Sunday schedule was already off-kilter.
Half an hour later he walked out of his build
ing with the racing form tucked under his arm and headed for the congee restaurant. The restaurant was a busy place every day of the week, but particularly on Sundays. He was about a hundred metres from the door when he saw there was a lineup outside. He groaned and debated whether to join the line, go to another restaurant, or take his chances on getting seated. He walked into the restaurant, squeezed past some waiting customers, and almost ran into Jia.
“There you are,” she said. “I was getting worried about you. You’re rarely this late.”
“I had too much to drink last night.”
“That’s not like you either.”
“Well, there have been things going on.”
She leaned close. “I heard. That’s one more reason why I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine, but I’m hungry. Any chance of getting a seat?”
“I’ll give you the next available table, or you can sit now if you don’t mind sharing one.”
“I’ll wait,” he said. “I want to be able to spread out my form.”
“Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. You can stand by the cash register.”
Chow leaned against the counter and opened his form, forming a barrier between himself and the other customers, who were visibly annoyed by the preference he was being shown. That didn’t actually bother him. Jumping the queue wasn’t something he did as a rule, but in this case he regarded it as a reward for the loyalty he’d shown to Jia and her husband over so many years. He read over the form, his notes in the margins from the night before a messy scrawl.
“Your table is ready,” Jia said before he could finish re-handicapping the first race.
He followed her to the back of the restaurant and slipped into a booth for four. “I’ll have my congee with sausage, scallions, duck eggs, and youtiao,” he said.
When she left, he buried his head in the form again. There was a big-money stakes race that day, and a well-known jockey had been flown in from Australia to ride one of the favourites. The jockey had also been booked to ride in some earlier races; Chow was keen to see how he did in them before deciding to back him in the big race. It was generally believed that Hong Kong jockeys weren’t of the same calibre as the top riders from Australia and Europe, but Chow thought there was something to be said for local course knowledge. He wanted to see how well the jockey adapted to Happy Valley.
Although he was now operating according to his usual routine, things weren’t seamless. Flickering on the edge of his consciousness were the events from the day before, and as much as he tried to focus on the race card, he couldn’t stop them from intruding. When the memory of Ma’s body in the Hop Sing courtyard entered his mind’s eye, he put down his pen for a moment and stared blankly at the seat across from him.
“Here’s your breakfast,” Jia said, interrupting his thoughts.
Chow poured tea and then sprinkled white pepper over his congee. He added the small slices of red sausage and slivers of green scallion and dipped his spoon into the bowl. For once he didn’t eat in a hurry. His mind was still racing and he needed to slow it down. Eating slowly, he thought, might calm him, so he moved the spoon from the bowl to his mouth very deliberately, waited until the congee had been swallowed, and then painstakingly repeated the process. Fifteen minutes later, feeling calmer, he pushed the bowl to one side, spread the paper across the table, and made ready to delve into the high-stakes race. Before he could, he heard a familiar voice. Looking towards the front of the restaurant, he saw a grim-faced Xu walking quickly towards him.
“Thank god I found you,” Xu said. “I tried the apartment, and when you weren’t there, I was afraid you had already left for Happy Valley.”
“What’s going on?”
“Tian has been trying to phone you. When he couldn’t get hold of you, he called me.”
“He must have just missed me,” Chow said. “But you still haven’t told me what’s going on.”
“There’s some shit going down at Dong’s Restaurant. He didn’t give me any details. He said he needed to talk to you.”
“Why me? Why hasn’t he spoken to Wang or Ren?”
“Uncle, I don’t know any more than I’ve told you, except that he sounded desperate.”
Chow looked for Jia and saw her coming out of the kitchen. He waved at her. “I have to make an urgent call. Do you have a phone I can use?”
She nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Our office is behind the door on the left. The phone is on the desk, probably buried under a pile of papers. Excuse the mess.”
“Wait here,” Chow said to Xu. He left the booth and headed for the office. He opened the door and stepped into a room that had space for only a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. Jia hadn’t exaggerated about the mess. Papers were strewn everywhere. He lifted some bills off the phone, put them to one side, and then called directory assistance for Dong’s number. As he dialled the number he’d been given, he braced himself for bad news in one form or another. Tian wasn’t a man often described as desperate.
The line was busy. Chow hung up, waited, and redialled. Tian answered on the fourth ring with a terse “Wei.”
“This is Uncle. What’s going on over there?”
“It’s what’s not going on that has me pissed off,” Tian said.
“I don’t understand.”
“Normally at this time on a Sunday morning, this place is filled with horse bettors. Today it’s empty, because our horse players are out on the street and can’t get in.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Uncle, the entire fucking place is surrounded. About twenty men arrived about half an hour ago; they aren’t letting anyone in and they won’t let us out. They told me we won’t be opening for business until they give the okay.”
“Who are they?”
“Tai Po forty-niners and Blue Lanterns.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“They told me, and I know a few of them anyway. One of them apologized for what they’re doing.”
“Are they armed?”
“They are.”
“Has anyone alerted the cops?”
“Not that I know of.”
“That’s probably just as well. We don’t want to involve them in this,” Chow said. “But Tian, doesn’t Wang have men in your area?”
“There were two of them, but they disappeared when the Tai Po guys arrived,” Tian said. “Can’t say I blame them, given how badly they were outnumbered.”
“You need to contact Wang.”
“He was the first person I called, but I can’t reach him.”
“He wouldn’t be at home on a Sunday morning. He’ll be making the rounds of the betting shops.”
“I know that. After I couldn’t reach him at home, I phoned three of our shops. No one answered at any of them. I just tried again a few minutes ago.”
“How come they’re letting you use a phone?” Chow asked.
“They locked me in the restaurant office by myself. No one noticed there’s a phone here, but I guess the guys running the other shops weren’t as lucky,” Tian said. “I’m guessing that all those shops are shut down.”
“It’s too soon to jump to that conclusion,” Chow said, even though the same thought was in his head. “How about Ren? Did you try him?”
“The woman he lives with told me she has no idea where he is.”
“Did you leave a message?”
“Of course I did, and I stressed how urgent it is that he get it.”
“Shit.”
“Uncle, Tai Po is making a play for us. I know they are,” Tian said. “That fucker Ren has sold us out. I told you that dinner with Tso in Kowloon was suspicious.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong about Tai Po, but you should stop that kind of talk about Ren,” Chow said. “The first thing we have to do is be certain about wha
t’s going on. Once we are, I’m sure Wang and Ren will find a way to deal with it.”
“You have to get hold of them first.”
“I will, one way or another.”
“Uncle, we can’t let them do this to us,” Tian said. “We can’t let them take over like this.”
“No one is going to take over.”
“Then someone had better do something, and quickly.”
Chow drew a deep breath. “Stay close to the phone, and for god’s sake don’t do anything stupid. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” He ended the call and then immediately dialed Wang’s number. He hung up when he heard the answering machine. He phoned Ren. No one answered. Pang was next on his list.
“This is a bit of a surprise,” Pang said as soon as he heard Chow’s voice.
“Have you heard what’s going on?”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Pang said.
“What the hell do you mean?”
“It is true that the cops picked up Ren early this morning and took him to Hong Kong for questioning about yesterday’s killings, but there’s nothing to it. It’s just the cops trying to show that they’re doing something. I spoke to Ren’s lawyer half an hour ago. He said Ren should be released in time for lunch.”
“That isn’t what I’m talking about,” Chow said. “Tai Po is making a move on us. They’ve already closed down some of our betting shops.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“I just spoke to Tian. Dong’s Kitchen is surrounded by twenty guys from Tai Po, and they’re not letting anyone in or out. He hasn’t been able to make contact with the other shops, so I think it’s logical to assume that the same thing is going on there.”
“Are you absolutely sure about this?”
“I don’t doubt Tian. He said the guys are from Tai Po. He said he’s shut down. What’s not to believe?”
