by Ian Hamilton
“You’re most likely correct,” Uncle said. “We did not need this, but we do have to deal with it. We have to stay out of sight and out of mind.”
“What do you suggest?” Wang asked.
“We’ve already closed the casinos, so now I think we should temporarily cease operating the rest of our businesses — except for the night market — until things quiet down.”
“What about Sunday? Will we open for the racing?”
“We’ll decide on Saturday.”
“It would upset a lot of our customers if we were closed,” Tian said.
“They would be more upset if they got caught up in a police raid.”
CHAPTER NINE
After the meeting, Tian invited Uncle to go with him to Dong’s for dinner. “A plate of Dong’s chicken feet will remind you that the world isn’t completely out of rhythm,” he said.
“Thanks, but I’m going back to my apartment,” Uncle said. “I hardly slept last night, and I need to be fresh for the meeting tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry so much about the meeting,” Tian said. “You have the respect of the Mountain Masters. I’d be surprised if a majority don’t support you.”
“I want them all onside. A unified New Territories could beat back anyone.”
“That’s asking a lot.”
“Maybe, but it’s still my goal.”
“Do you have a detailed plan to present?”
“No. My starting point is to get them to understand and accept that we have a problem we need to deal with together. Once I have that, we can start figuring out how we’ll approach it.”
Tian smiled. “You’ve always been able to see the big picture. The men know that and trust you to take them in the proper direction.”
“Our men do. I’m not sure about my Mountain Master colleagues,” Uncle said as he flagged down a taxi.
“Are you riding with me?” Tian asked.
“No, this is for you. I’m going to walk home. It always helps to clear my mind.”
Uncle helped Tian into the taxi. As the car pulled away, he began to walk in the direction of his apartment.
He was pleased with the way the executive meeting had gone, and heartened that all the Mountain Masters in the Territories — except, of course, Wu — had agreed to attend the lunch at the White Jade Restaurant the following day. Lee from Sha Tau Kok had called him at the office an hour earlier and was willing to commit. Uncle had spoken briefly to most of the Mountain Masters after hearing the latest news about Macau, and whatever reservations they might have had about the meeting had been eliminated by the events there. Uncle knew that didn’t mean they would agree with him, but it did mean they understood that Man and Yin could be a source of difficulty for all of them.
As he walked along, Uncle started putting together in his mind the case for unification. As sensible as he thought his arguments were, the Territories gangs were defiantly independent. He knew that suggesting they weren’t capable of defending their own turf wouldn’t sit well with some of them. He had to find a way to say it without making them feel like they weren’t in control of their own destiny.
He figured he could count on support from Ng, Tan from Mai Po, and Kan from Tai Po, who would be sitting in for the ailing Deng. He decided he’d call them later and plant some questions and comments with them that would be helpful to the cause.
Uncle checked the time. He’d be home by seven, which was too early to phone Zhang. The two men spoke only over their home lines and rarely met in person. Uncle often thought it remarkable that their arm’s-length relationship had survived as long as it had, but maybe that was precisely because it was arm’s-length.
As Uncle neared his building he could smell the aromas of fried garlic and ginger wafting from the Blind Emperor. He entered the restaurant and ordered dou miao — snow pea shoots fried in garlic — and barbecued pork. While his food was being prepared, he sipped a San Miguel. When the food was ready, he bought two more San Miguels and carried everything upstairs.
He ate quickly, his chopsticks almost never stopping as he shovelled the food into his mouth. It was a habit he was aware of, but it was also one he couldn’t break. The memories of his family having to eat boiled grass to survive were etched into his subconscious. No matter how much money he had or how much food was in front of him, Uncle felt an irrational compulsion to eat it as fast as possible, for fear that it would disappear.
After emptying both containers he settled into his chair. He thought about having a beer, but then he yawned several times and knew that was a bad idea. Instead he reached for the phone and called Zhang.
“Uncle, I’ve just walked through my front door. Do you have any idea why I’m getting home so late?” Zhang said.
Uncle noted the sarcasm in his tone but tried to downplay the possible reason for it. “I imagine the problems in Kowloon and Macau have everyone on edge.”
“We went past the edge today with Macau. I was just at a meeting where we were told to drop the hammer. My men will be out in full force tomorrow, as will the Hong Kong and Kowloon divisions.”
“I closed all my businesses tonight, except the night market. They won’t reopen until things calm down.”
“What are the other gangs in the New Territories doing?”
“I don’t know, but since many share our aversion to the types of activities you and I have agreed won’t take place in the Territories, I believe it’s fair to give them a warning about tomorrow.”
“I think that is appropriate, but I don’t want you to make any calls to Hong Kong or Kowloon. Let my people and the gangs there sort out their own relationships.”
“I agree.”
Zhang paused, then said, “When is this stupidity going to end?”
“Some of us are working on it. Hopefully in two or three days there will be a return to normalcy.”
“The sooner the better. But in the meantime, I think it’s wise to keep your businesses closed until I tell you otherwise.”
“You have my word on that.”
“Good. Now let me go so I can have my dinner.”
Uncle shook his head as he hung up. What did Yin and Man think they could accomplish by riling the OCTB and the Hong Kong police? He reached for the phone to call Fong.
“Yes, boss,” Fong answered.
“The police will be raiding tomorrow. Make sure all our businesses are closed as directed, and that our people maintain a low profile,” Uncle said. “I’d also like you to phone our usual friends and give them a heads-up.”
“That will be appreciated,” Fong said. “It might also persuade them to be more supportive tomorrow.”
“That’s not why I’m doing it,” Uncle said.
“I know, but they might want to express their appreciation all the same.”
When is this crisis in Macau going to end? Or, maybe more to the point, what will it take to bring it to an end? Uncle thought as he hung up and then called Tse. He had told Zhang he wouldn’t warn any of the Hong Kong gangs, but he was making an exception for Tse. He even thought Zhang would agree with that, if it could contribute to a ceasefire between Macau and Kowloon.
“I thought I’d hear from you,” Tse said when he answered.
“It sounds like a mad day in Macau,” said Uncle. “I don’t have many details. What have you heard?”
“Yin’s men tried to corner a group of Cho’s near a restaurant in the old part of the city. Cho’s men ran into the square, thinking Yin’s people wouldn’t dare open fire in such a public place. They were wrong.”
“What was the outcome?”
“Three of Cho’s men are dead, three more are wounded. I don’t believe any of Yin’s men were hurt.”
“Were any civilians hit?”
“No. Given how many people normally congregate in that square, it was a miracle.”
&
nbsp; “It wasn’t enough of a miracle for the Hong Kong police,” Uncle said. “There’s going to be a crackdown tomorrow.”
“Is that the word from your contact?” Tse asked.
“It is. Tse, I promised him I wouldn’t alert the gangs in Kowloon and on the Island. I’m making an exception in your case, and I want this warning to end with you.”
“I’ll keep it to myself.”
“I’m closing all our businesses except the night market until this feud ends. I suggest you do something similar.”
“Well, I’ll close them for at least the next two days. Crackdowns don’t usually last longer than that.”
“It’s your decision,” Uncle said. “Tell me, how did you get the information about what happened in Macau?”
“Is that your way of asking if I’ve been in communication with Cho?”
“Yes.”
“You’re usually more subtle than that, Uncle,” Tse said.
“Let me be even less subtle. Did you speak to him?”
“Yes. He’s angry, but he’s even more shaken. I think he’s beginning to realize he can’t win a war against Yin,” Tse said. “He asked me if I would support him. I told him I’ll give him all the moral support I can, but that Macau and Yin’s turf in Kowloon are completely off-limits for my men.”
“Can he get support from anywhere else?”
“I don’t think so. He’s on his own.”
“Is he stupid enough to strike back at Yin again?”
“I’m not sure, though if I had to bet, I’d guess it’s over,” Tse said. “He won’t want to acknowledge that for a day or two, so he can save face, but I don’t know what other choice he has.”
“Then what?”
“He’ll probably request a truce. I think he knows it’s too late for that, but he’ll ask anyway,” Tse said.
“I agree, it is too late. Yin will insist that Cho surrender on his terms.”
“Which will be?”
“I believe Yin wants complete control in Macau. After what’s been going on, I can’t see him settling for anything less,” Uncle said.
“As things stand, who’s to stop him from getting it?”
CHAPTER TEN
Uncle left his apartment at the usual time the following morning to make his way to Jia’s. As he neared the newsstand, he could see that every paper had a variation of “Triad War” in the headline. He considered avoiding the news altogether but then purchased an Oriental Daily News and Sing Tao. He also bought the racing form for Sunday’s races at Sha Tin. He wasn’t sure he would be going, but even if he didn’t, the handicapping would be a mental distraction.
Jia didn’t comment when he entered the restaurant, simply placing a pot of tea on the table as she seated him. He asked for a double order of sausage with his congee and, while he waited for his food, read the stories on the front page of each paper. There was a surprising and not unwelcome lack of detail. Neither gang was named specifically; they were simply identified as Macau and Hong Kong gangs at war over control of moneylending operations in and around the Macau casinos. The stories did confirm that three men had been killed and three wounded; their gang affiliations weren’t mentioned.
The spokesperson for the Macau Polícia de Segurança Pública condemned the shootings in St. Paul’s Square and said they were rounding up local suspects. He added that the Macau force was co-operating fully with the OCTB to bring the Hong Kong–based perpetrators to justice. Beneath that pronouncement, the head of the OCTB was quoted as saying: “We are alarmed by the open display of gang violence that took place yesterday afternoon and put innocent lives at risk. We do not tolerate such violence in Hong Kong, and we won’t tolerate the Hong Kong triads exporting it outside the colony. The OCTB will be taking appropriate steps to ensure it does not happen again.”
If the Hong Kong and Kowloon gangs didn’t recognize that those words signalled an imminent major crackdown, they weren’t paying attention, Uncle thought.
When Jia arrived with his congee and sausages, Uncle pushed the newspapers to one side. But before he could begin to eat, he saw Fong enter the restaurant. Uncle held up an arm, and Fong nodded and came towards him.
“You’re up early,” Uncle said.
“It’s a big day. I wanted to talk to you before we get caught up in business at the office.”
“Has something happened?”
“Nothing in particular, but I want to brief you on the conversations I had last night when I called the other gangs to warn about the crackdown,” Fong said. “They were grateful, of course. I think it might have pushed a couple of them who were leaning towards supporting you more firmly into your camp.”
“Did you speak to the Mountain Masters?”
“No, they’re above my station. I talked to White Paper Fans or Straw Sandals.”
“What did they say about my proposal?”
“The guys in Mong Kok and Tsuen Wan said their bosses are worried about losing their independence, but if you guarantee they’ll keep total control of their turf, they’ll probably sign on.”
“I got similar feedback from Ng, Kan, and Tan. So, including ourselves, that already gives us six gangs,” said Uncle. “None of us is particularly large in number, but combined we could be formidable.”
Fong pointed to the newspapers. “The people I spoke to also talked about Yin and Cho. They’re making everyone nervous. The feeling is, the longer they go at each other, the harder the cops will come down on the rest of us.”
“I spoke to Tse last night. He thinks the shootout yesterday will end the conflict. He expects that Cho will ask for a truce and then take whatever deal Yin offers him.”
“That’s good to hear, but Yin making a successful attack on Macau might convince Man or Yeung to try the same tactics in the Territories,” said Fong.
“I’m thinking the same way. That’s why we need to reach some kind of agreement with the other gangs today.”
Jia approached the table. “Are you going to eat?” she asked Fong.
“No, thank you,” he said, and turned back to Uncle. “There are a few other things I want to discuss with you.”
Uncle looked at his congee. “Do you mind if I eat and listen at the same time?”
“Of course not,” Fong said. “I was wondering how you want the dining room set up at the White Jade, and what you want to serve.”
“Give each gang a table of their own. They’ll feel more comfortable that way,” Uncle said. “We’ll serve beer, water, and tea. Let the restaurant owner decide what food to serve, but tell him it isn’t a banquet, it’s a working lunch.”
“Okay,” Fong said, and then paused, seeming a bit distracted.
“Was there something else?” Uncle asked.
“Yes. Wang called me late last night. He’s worried that Wu may attack us.”
Uncle cocked an eyebrow. “We all are, which is why we authorized him to buy more weapons, agreed to augment our fighting force with Blue Lanterns, and are having the meeting later today.”
“Sorry, I didn’t express his views properly,” Fong said. “What I meant to say is he’s concerned that you aren’t properly protected. There are no impediments to entering your building, and the fact that you walk to and from the office by yourself every day is a worry.”
“Does Wang think Wu may target me directly?”
“Every other tactic he’s tried in the past has failed. Maybe he thinks we’ll cave in if he takes you out.”
“Is that Wang’s reasoning or yours?”
“It’s Wang’s, but I have to say I agree with him. You should have protection, Uncle. He’s hoping I can convince you of that.”
“He wants to place bodyguards at my apartment entrance?”
“Yes.”
“And he wants me to be driven back and forth to and from work?”
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p; “Yes.”
“I thank both you and him for your concern, but I’ve survived all these years without a bodyguard,” Uncle said.
“That is true, but times are changing. The old codes of honour and conduct aren’t followed as much as they used to be.”
“If you’re referring to the belief that directly targeting a Mountain Master is off-limits, I can tell you that’s been fiction for years. I know of at least five who died at the hands of another Mountain Master or unhappy members of their own gang. Most of them had bodyguards, and in some cases the bodyguards died with them. I’d rather put my trust in karma.”
“Uncle, please,” Fong pleaded.
“No, and that’s final.”
Fong sighed. “Wang thought you’d react like this, which is why he asked me to make the request.”
“The discussion is closed.”
Fong slid out of the booth. “I’ll tell Wang.”
Uncle watched his Straw Sandal leave the restaurant. In some ways, he thought, Fong had a romantic notion of what it meant to be a triad.
He returned to his congee, finished it, asked Jia for a refill, and finished that as well. Given that he’d be speaking rather than eating at the meeting, Uncle figured the congee would carry him through until dinner.
He took his time walking to the office. It was another beautiful day, but he barely noticed; his mind was preoccupied with formulating the message he wanted to deliver to his colleagues. They weren’t men prone to panic, and he felt that overstating the threat they faced would be met by skepticism or even resentment. It was better to understate, he thought — keep it simple, truthful, and low-key.
When he reached the office, there were four men rather than the usual two at the entrance. Uncle nodded at them and made his way upstairs. He expected to see some of the executive there, but only Mo and a couple of clerks were at their desks.
“Where is everyone?” Uncle asked.
“Fong went to the restaurant to make sure everything is properly organized for this afternoon,” Mo said. “Wang called in; he’s visiting all our businesses in town to make sure they’re closed. Hui will be here in about fifteen minutes. I don’t know about the others.”
