The Wild Beasts of Wuhan

by Ian Hamilton

  Westerners couldn’t understand power as it was exerted in China. As men like Changxing accumulated wealth and contacts and influence, they correspondingly became increasingly immune to the everyday nuisances of life, and from the laws and constraints that applied to most citizens. As long as they were careful not to flaunt their status, stayed within the broad guidelines of the law, and didn’t cause any public embarrassment or become a threat to their political and military allies, there was hardly anything they couldn’t do, and there was virtually no one who would risk raising a hand against them. It gave men such as Changxing an overblown sense of security, a sense of invulnerability to the vagaries of the outside world. It had taken an Englishman to prick the bubble he lived in, the bubble that Ava had been hired to patch. Now all she wanted to do was take that small tear and turn it into a gaping hole.

  She picked up her phone.

  “Wei,” May Ling said.

  “Auntie, it’s Ava.”

  The line went silent. “I did not expect to hear from you so soon,” May Ling said finally.

  “I spoke to Uncle.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Auntie, he said I should do what I think is right.”

  “I’ve asked you not to call me Auntie.”

  “I can’t call you anything else.”

  “Why?”

  “You know or you don’t know — what does it matter? The thing is, we need to renegotiate our agreement.”

  “We finalized it with Uncle.”

  “Auntie, the ground has shifted. This is now between you and me.”

  “My husband —”

  “Fuck your husband.”

  She could hear May Ling breathing deeply. “Shall I have Changxing call Uncle?” she asked coldly.

  “Yes, do that, Auntie. Have the two men talk. And then say goodbye to your money and watch Wong Changxing become the biggest fool the new China has ever seen.”

  The line was quiet. “Why are you doing this?” May Ling whispered.

  “You lied to me.”

  “And no one has done that to you before?”

  “You took the lives of three innocent people.”

  “I’ve explained that.”

  “Auntie, your explanation does not excuse the fact that you betrayed me.”

  “Don’t call me Auntie anymore,” May Ling snapped, and then went quiet, composing herself. “Tell me,” she said calmly, “what is it that you want?”

  Ava looked up Church Street and thought she could see the barriers that surrounded the Hughes Art Gallery. “I want our fee to be its regular thirty percent.”

  “Uncle and I agreed on twenty.”

  “It’s now thirty, which is what it should have been in the first place.”

  “And if I agree, are there more demands?”

  “Yes.”

  “So why should I agree?”

  “Because the demands are joined. It isn’t one or the other.”

  “What else do you want?”

  “Glen Hughes lives. He lives for as long as his health allows. He lives, and all his family and his friends live. No one who is close to Glen Hughes has an accident.”

  “If that isn’t possible?”

  “Then, Auntie, from our side, three things happen. The money — all of it — disappears. More important, perhaps, is that the world will find out that Wong Changxing bought fifteen fake paintings and paid seventy-three million dollars for them in a pathetic attempt to be something he’s not. And finally I will somehow, in some way, link — at least in the public’s mind — the death of those three people to the two of you.”

  “Does Uncle know what your position is?”

  “Call him and ask.”

  “I may.”

  “Call him on another line. I’ll wait.”

  May Ling paused. “Thirty percent?”

  “And Glen Hughes lives.”

  “I need to talk to Changxing —”

  “No, you don’t,” Ava snapped. “You and I alone will agree on how this business is to be concluded. The men may be told, but not consulted.”

  “Or?”

  “As I said, there will be no money and I will do everything I can to shame and humiliate your husband. Maybe no one in China will ever know what happened, but the rest of the world will. And I can guarantee that by the time I’m finished there will be so many rumours about the killings in Kensington that not a country in the world will give either of you a visa.”

  May Ling went quiet. “Thirty percent,” she whispered, “and Hughes lives?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes.”

  “And we get the seventy-three million?”

  “No, I think by the time I’ve paid certain expenses, I’ll recover about sixty million. Subtracting our commission, that will leave you about forty million.”

  “You would sacrifice twenty million in commission for Glen Hughes’ life?”

  “And you would forgo forty million and risk your husband’s reputation, everything he’s built, for the life of a man you’ve never met?”

  “I see the logic in your position,” May Ling said carefully. “But I don’t know if my husband will.”

  Ava thought of Glen Hughes. He was already on his way to England to comfort his brother’s widow because of what he thought was a robbery gone wrong. “Tell Changxing that letting Hughes live is a greater and more prolonged torture. He’ll be a man living in perpetual terror, waiting for the gun that will take his life just as his brother’s was taken. In some ways, letting him live is a greater punishment than killing him.”

  “There is a sense of justice in that.”

  “Shall I tell Uncle?”

  “Yes, you can tell him,” May Ling said. “I will make my husband understand.”

  “I hope so, Auntie, because I am a vengeful woman.”

  “That is another quality,” May Ling said softly, “that we seem to share.”

  ( 36 )

  The first Air Canada flight out of Heathrow to Toronto was at eleven a.m. Ava was checked in by nine thirty and sitting in the lounge and online ten minutes later. There was an email message from Roxanne Rice, saying the two paintings had sold for eighty-four million. The money would be in the Liechtenstein account within forty-eight hours. The Wongs would net just over forty million after Harrington’s commissions and expenses, the five million each for Hughes and Rice, and the thirty percent she and Uncle had earned as their commission. Ava sent Roxanne her thanks and asked her to pass along best wishes to her husband. She then emailed her flight schedule to Maria, Mimi, and her mother and told them she would contact them when she reached her condo in Yorkville.

  It was mid-evening in Hong Kong. Uncle should be at dinner, she thought. She had called him the night before to update him on her talk with May Ling Wong. He hadn’t been surprised by her apparent success but was now as anxious as she was to put this case behind them. She knew he would be pleased that the money would be available so quickly. His cellphone rang once and went directly to voicemail. That’s strange, she thought, and dialled his home number.

  “Wei,” he answered.

  “You’re at home this time of night?” she said.

  “My stomach keeps acting up. I went to see a doctor this afternoon and had acupuncture. Now I am drinking nothing but warm water and eating only congee for two days.”

  “I worry about you.”

  “Please do not. I am not falling apart — not yet, anyway.”

  “I’m at Heathrow, heading home. I was just told that our money will be available within the next two or three days.”

  “Excellent. I will call Changxing.”

  “I wonder if he’ll make any mention of the changes in our
agreement.”

  “He has already. He called me earlier today,” Uncle said and made a small noise that sounded to Ava like a laugh. “That wife of his told him she thought they should increase our commission to the regular rate. She said you had done some remarkable work and that she had perhaps been disrespectful, haggling with me the way she did. He told me he had felt that way all along, and he instructed his wife to follow her instincts and pay us thirty percent. He made it sound as if he was giving me a gift.”

  “I see.”

  “He also said he had been thinking about Glen Hughes.”

  “And?”

  “He thinks Hughes must be going crazy with fear. ‘He is living in hell,’ he said. He has decided to leave him there.”

  “May Ling is a clever woman.”

  “Yes, she is,” Uncle said slowly. “She could be an important contact in years to come. Anyone with her kind of guangxi should not so easily be set aside.”

  “Uncle —”

  “I know you do not want to hear that and I will not mention it again, but that does not make it any less true,” he said.

  Before she could answer, the announcement came that her flight was ready to board. “I have to go, Uncle.”

  “Safe journey,” he said.

  Eight hours later Ava was walking through the arrivals hall at Pearson Airport, heading towards the limousine service. Then she heard her name. She turned to see Mimi, her mother, Maria, and Marcus Lee all waving at her.

  Mimi and her mother were standing together; Marcus was to his wife’s left and Maria several metres to Mimi’s right. It was an awkward grouping, given that her mother never liked to concede looks to any other woman; tall, blonde, beautiful Mimi was an overpowering presence. Maria was wearing the Steinum sweater. Shy as always, she gave Ava a small smile, a tiny wave.

  Ava went directly to Maria. They kissed discreetly, and then Maria said, “Mimi introduced me to your parents.”

  “As what?”

  “Your friend.”

  Ava turned and walked over to her parents and Mimi, Maria trailing behind.

  “Welcome home,” Mimi said, holding out her arms. The two women hugged.

  Ava looked at Jennie Lee. “Mummy, you’ve met Maria.”

  “Yes,” Jennie said. “I told her that I’ve never seen a girl who looked so good in bright colours.”

  Ava smiled. “Even though I wasn’t expecting any of you, I’m really happy to see you. But now I really want to get home. How will we handle transportation?”

  “I have Mummy’s car,” Marcus Lee said.

  “Maria and I came together in a limo. It’s waiting outside,” said Mimi.

  Ava looked at her parents. “If you don’t mind, I’ll ride with the girls. Maybe we can meet later for dinner.”

  Marcus Lee looked uncomfortable, and Ava wondered if she had offended him. “Daddy, it’s just more practical.”

  “Can we talk privately for a moment?” he said.

  Ava looked at her mother and saw concern etched on her face. “Of course,” she said.

  They moved to the side, leaving the other three women.

  “Michael called me this morning,” Marcus said. “We talked in detail about his problems. I think he needs your help.”

  “Daddy, I’ve just met him, and then only for two minutes.”

  “He’s your brother.”

  “Until a few days ago he was only a name.”

  She saw the pain in her father’s eyes and felt her cheeks flush in shame.

  “He wanted me to help him. I can’t. It’s beyond my capacity. He needs you.”

  “What do you think I do?” she asked.

  “I don’t live in a bubble in Hong Kong. I know who Uncle is, and was. And things are said about you — some of them alarming, some of them more complimentary. Michael is my oldest child. When I die, he will become the head of this family. I need you to respect that. Right now he’s at risk and he’s put most of his assets at risk. I don’t want to watch my oldest child lose his future.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Help him.”

  “How?”

  “Call him and he’ll explain.”

  “But you know what happened?”

  “I know enough to understand that he needs your help.”

  “I’ll call him,” she said quietly.

  Marcus leaned down and kissed his daughter on the forehead. “It’s always been my dream to bring my children together. I regret that it’s under these circumstances.”

  “It’s a family and a structure that you created,” she said.

  “I haven’t always been wise.”

  The three women were standing where Ava had left them. Jennie looked pointedly at Ava as she walked back towards them. She saw in her mother’s eyes that Marcus had confided in her. Jennie mouthed, Momentai? and Ava knew that her mother stood with him.

  Ava gave a slight nod and mouthed, Momentai.

  “I was serious about dinner tonight,” Ava said to Jennie.

  Her mother glanced at Maria and Mimi. “I think I’d rather have your father to myself tonight, and I think your friends would like to have you to themselves as well. Now off you go with them. We can talk later.”

  When Marcus rejoined them, Jennie reached for his hand. “The girls need to leave for the city,” she said. “We should go home.”

  Ava watched as they walked towards the escalator that would take them to the parking garage, her mother still holding on to his hand. His head was turned in her direction, talking. Her eyes never left his face. She couldn’t remember a time when they had seemed closer.

  “Time to go home, girls,” Ava said, leading them towards the exit.

  The three women got into the back of the limousine, Ava in the middle, Maria with her arm looped through hers, and Mimi’s chin resting on Ava’s shoulder, a wide grin on her face.

  “You haven’t stopped smiling since I’ve arrived,” Ava said. She felt Mimi nudge her gently in the ribs. “You’re really going to live in Leaside?”

  “Yes.”

  “With all those young professionals and their nannies?”

  “That’s the plan — including the nanny.”

  “You’re pregnant?” Ava blurted.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I hope Derek’s asked you to marry him,” she said.

  “He has.”

  “Geez, what have I started?”

  “Everything,” Mimi said, punching Ava’s arm.

  COMING SOON

  from House of Anansi Press in July 2012

  Read on for a preview of the next thrilling Ava Lee novel, The Red Pole of Macau

  ( 1 )

  Ava Lee woke to the sensation of lips kissing her forehead. She opened her eyes to semi-darkness and saw her girlfriend, Maria, hovering over her, her face in shadow. Ava extended her arms, but Maria shook her head and passed over the phone. “He says his name is Michael and that he’s your brother,” she said.

  “I didn’t hear it ring,” Ava said. “And he’s my half-brother, from my father’s first wife. The one I told you I met in Hong Kong.”

  “I think he first phoned half an hour ago. I didn’t answer it then. He’s called back every ten minutes since.”

  Ava glanced sideways at the bedside clock. It was just past eight a.m., eight in the evening in Hong Kong, where she assumed the call originated. She reached under her pillow, pulled out a black Giordano T-shirt, and slipped it over her head. Then she held out her hand for the phone. “I’ll talk to him out here,” she said, rolling out of bed and walking to the kitchen. “Michael?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is an early call.”

  “I’m sorry. I spoke to Dad last night,�
�� he said, his voice strained. “He said he met you at the Toronto airport and explained that we are having some problems here. He said you were going to call me.”

  “I was, later today.”

  “I have to go out in about half an hour and I won’t be available for the rest of the evening. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow for us to talk.”

  “Daddy said there was an issue in Hong Kong. He didn’t say any more than that, and he didn’t tell me it was so urgent.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  Ava sat at her kitchen table and looked down onto Yorkville Avenue. Her condo was situated in the very heart of Toronto, and the Yorkville district was one of the city’s trendiest, but at eight on a weekday morning the streets were devoid of shoppers and restaurant-goers. Farther away she could see that Avenue Road, a main north–south artery, was jammed with commuter traffic. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “We’re in a bit of a mess.”

  “Who is we?”

  “My partner, Simon To, and me.”

  “Explain what you mean by a mess.”

  The line went silent. All Ava could hear was deep breathing, as if he was trying to gather together his thoughts and his emotions. “We own a franchise operation: some convenience stores and high-end noodle shops. We were looking at putting one of each into a large new retail mall in Macau, either renting the space or buying it. We were midway through negotiations when the developers asked if we’d like to up the ante, if we’d like to invest in the entire project. It’s something we’d always thought about, accumulating some real estate. Simon didn’t see how we could go wrong putting money into Macau. So we did.”

  “How much money?”

  “A hundred and fifty million.”

  “U.S. dollars?” Ava said, shocked.

  “No, Hong Kong.”

  “So about twenty million U.S.?”

  “Yes.”

  That’s still a lot of money, she thought, but in Macau it won’t buy much land. “So you took a minority share?”

  “Yes. As I said, it’s a large project.”

  “So what’s gone wrong?”