“Jun, I guarantee that you will not be disappointed. We have reviewed your earlier payments for helping the Government acquire the new microchip technology last year and because this is much more important to China, we have doubled your fee.”
“I am speechless. Thank you.”
“China is in your debt, Jun. Thank you.”
Zhang Wei disconnected the line. Jun stood there holding the telephone and smiling for a long time.
CHAPTER 17
Rorke was late to Jun’s 3:00 pm meeting by design. Even though he was her client, her tardiness was her small gesture of control. With the performance of his investment portfolio under her control, there was no danger of her being fired. She arrived at 3:20, exactly as she had planned.
The meeting was in his apartment, not his office. They had been meeting like this about every two months for the last year and a half. Early on, during their second meeting, Jun had made a clumsy effort to steer her toward his bedroom after their investment meeting. She had been pleasant, yet firm, in her refusal. Jun, who had earned his M.B.A. from Kellogg, had spent enough time in the U.S. to understand her fully when she told him that she didn’t screw her clients, in any meaning of the word. He laughed at her line. She thought about that day and his gentle acceptance of her rebuke. It hadn’t stopped him from buying her a five-star meal after the meeting. He was a perfect gentleman.
She had carefully planned what she would wear to their meeting, remembering what had earned his compliments in the past. She chose a straight tight skirt with a matching jacket over a plain white buttoned blouse. The jacket would come off as soon as she sat with him and she made sure that a few buttons at the top of the blouse were free before putting on the jacket. She wore her favorite perfume, the brand that Buddy liked. She checked her appearance in the mirror before she left. She looked at her front, her profile, and her rear. She stood again in profile. With what she saw, coupled with Jun’s twenty percent year over year returns, she knew she could pretty much have anything she wanted from him.
Rorke took a taxi to Jun’s building and greeted the sleepy doorman when she arrived. He seemed to remember her and bowed as she entered the building. She knew the combination to the punch lock, and when the security partition unlocked, she pushed through the door, walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the Jun’s floor. Jun’s building was a little older than most in that neighborhood. His apartment on the sixteenth floor had a large terrace overlooking the zoo and botanical gardens. Although he lived alone, the apartment was large with three bedrooms, one of which Jun used as his office. Rorke loved the apartment and its view, and she knew it made Jun happy when she commented on it.
The lift arrived at the sixteenth floor and she walked toward his apartment door. She looked at the hallway carefully on both sides after she left the elevator and saw no security cameras. She made three raps with the knocker below the peephole. The door opened almost before she finished the third knock.
Jun greeted her warmly. “Samantha, you always look so lovely,” he said and he kissed her cheek. “Please come in. I’ve been thinking about some good news I received earlier today. It was about one of my new businesses so it is most appropriate that I am seeing you now. Today has been a day of very good fortune.”
“I’m sorry to be late, Jun,” she said. “I ran into a Chinese bureaucrat and he slowed up everything.”
Jun raised a finger and said, “Today, we do not make fun of the system. At this moment, I’m in love with government bureaucrats. Today is a beautiful day for the planned economy.”
She laughed at him. “You’re in quite a good mood. What is this news? I have to hear all about it.”
“And you will. Please come to the terrace with me.”
He led her out to the terrace where the table was covered with a lace tablecloth, a wine bucket with an open bottle of champagne, and two champagne flutes.
He poured a glass for her. “I toast the beautiful Sam Rorke; I toast the wonders of modern technology; and I toast my excellent friends in the Ministry of Agriculture. Gan Bei!” He emptied his flute.
“Gan Bei,” she echoed, draining her own glass.
“Shall we do another?” he asked.
“Of course, let’s sit and talk while we enjoy this wonderful champagne.”
After he re-filled the glasses, he gestured to the chairs further down the terrace. She led the way while he carried their glasses. “Shall we speak in English or Chinese?” she asked, as he gave her the glass.
“English,” he said. “It’s more direct and better for business. And after a few glasses of this,” he said raising his glass, “we can see where the conversation leads us.”
“Fine. Now, why are you in such a great mood?” she asked.
“It has to do with an investment I made.”
“Without me?” she pouted, feigning disappointment.
“Yes, sadly,” said Jun.
“What kind of investment?”
“Agriculture.”
“Really, where?”
“China.”
“You’re kidding. How do you make money on a Chinese agriculture investment?”
“I sell seed stocks. Like Monsanto does in the States,” said Jun happily.
“There’s no way their business model works in China,” she said.
“No, our model is more efficient. The government is our only customer.”
“And you grow seeds?”
“I do.”
“Where? Hong Kong?”
“Close. Lantau. In addition to a small plot on Lantau, Chao and I have a modest farm in Guangdong Province, just north of Shenzhen,” said Jun.
“I never knew this side of you. You are a real man of the soil. Uncle Mao would be happy,” she said in a mocking tone.
“Since the handover, I’ve been trying to be a much better proletariat. This deal is proof of my re-education.”
She stood and looked over the terrace rail to the busy street below and the botanical gardens beyond it. “Yes, Jun,” she said, gesturing to the elegant apartment around her, “I think your re-education is complete. You are an outstanding example of how all Chinese peasants should live.”
She drained her glass, and he did as well.
She went to the table and poured them both another. “Now, tell me how you came to be a farmer,” she said, settling in her chair again.
Jun took a sip from his glass. “It will not come as a complete shock to you to hear that I don’t do much of the farming.”
“No, but for a moment I had this delightful image of you wearing a coolie hat and holding a hoe in your hand.”
“Before you give up on that picture, I will tell you that I really do have a new agricultural royalty business. When Chao and I were in Bangkok a few years ago, a colleague took us to a farm to meet a man who has been crossing rice hybrids for decades.”
“Really?” she said, with genuine interest in his story.
“Yes, and his findings were amazing. He discovered a strain of rice that grows faster and is far hardier than our usual Chinese rice. We licensed the rice seeds from this farmer and found that all the amazing things he claimed about his plant strain were true. It is quite remarkable.”
“I’m impressed, Jun,” she said.
“Yes, I must say, Chao and I did well with this one. Occasionally, we take a chance, and it pays off.”
He allowed her a few seconds to respond. When she stayed quiet, he continued, “A few months ago, we showed these plants to the Ministry of Agriculture and they were tremendously excited about it. They tried it in their test plots in Hunan and expanded it from there. Today, I received a call from the Ministry to tell me they were planting the rice all along the Yangtze basin on large government farms. They wanted to see how it grows in our most productive soils.” He took a long drink. “That is the good news.”
&
nbsp; “Congratulations,” she said sincerely, and added, “It is a great day for you.”
“Yes. Thank you. And now, because of this, my investment strategy can shift to more speculative and hopefully higher return investments. The rice royalties will be coming in large chunks and I am feeling very comfortable about my cash flow for the foreseeable future. We’ll have to talk about re-modeling my entire portfolio to adjust to my new situation.”
“I’m happy to do that. Since we’re on the topic of farms, I‘ve never seen a farm in China, even though I grew up in Hong Kong. Would it be possible for me to see your farm in Guangdong?”
“Sam, of course. I am happy to organize that. I would love to show it to you. It cannot be tomorrow because I must arrange the paperwork. I can guarantee that we can do it the day after tomorrow if you’d like. We’ll have a short visit to my modest little plot, and I’ll plan an elegant lunch. Will that be acceptable?”
“Wonderful. I would not have it any other way.”
“Good. I’ll call you tomorrow with the final arrangements.”
“Thank you,” she said, as she took another sip of champagne. “Jun, with your exciting news, I wonder if we should do an exercise here that I do with all of my long-term clients.”
“Of course,” he said. “What is that?”
“I ask my clients to write out—not type out—their long-term investment goals, their lifestyle needs, their charities, and heirs, and how they would see these financial needs evolving over a five, ten, and twenty-year time period.”
“Why not type it out?”
“I think people spend more time thinking about what they express when they write it by hand,” she explained.
“I suppose I can do that,” said Jun. “If we’re talking about giving money away, it will all be to charities. I’ll have to think that through. I don’t have any other relatives besides Chao and Uncle Quan.
“However, if we’re talking about spending money, I have lots of ideas.” He smiled at her. “You are the closest thing I have to a girlfriend, and since you aren’t working too hard at the girlfriend role, I don’t have to spend much money on you.”
“Except for my management fee,” she corrected.
“Yes, except for your management fee. As you know, I have quite a number of interests and places where I’d like to spend money, and we can plan for that.”
“Jun, that’s exactly the idea. Write down whatever you want. Be as frivolous or as frugal as you wish. Just make it what you would honestly want to do.”
“It may take time, for self-examination, and then to write it all out.”
“Well, start it now and if it takes too long, you can finish it another time. Otherwise, if you don’t mind me drinking champagne here on your lovely terrace while you write, take all the time you need.” She kicked off her shoes, curled her knees over the cushion, and sat back in the large chair. “Would you bring me a magazine and re-fill my glass before you start writing?” she asked with a seductive smile.
“You’re a lot of work, your Ladyship.”
“Yes, well this is my system and it’s how I’ll keep generating your 20 percent returns.”
”Of course,” he said, as he walked back into the apartment, quickly returning with a fresh bottle of champagne and a magazine. “Now I’ll do my homework. I’ll write it in English for you.”
“No,” she said. “If you don’t mind, would you write it in Chinese? It helps me to practice my comprehension of handwritten Chinese.”
“Okay, smart lady. Now, would you like to read it in simplified or traditional characters?”
“Whatever you usually use.”
“I only use simplified characters these days. Life is too short.”
“I agree, Jun. Life is too short. But take all the time you need to tell me about your future.”
“If I do my homework diligently, can we have dinner together?”
“Yes, I think I can agree to that, if it’s an early dinner.”
“Oh, do you have plans for later?”
“Maybe, but more importantly, I missed lunch.”
“Okay, an early dinner. I’ll get to work,” he said.
He sat at his desk just inside the terrace sliding door. Rorke watched carefully, noting both the pen he used, and the drawer of his desk where his stationary was kept. She turned to her magazine and her fresh glass of champagne. Before reading, she gazed beyond the rail to the botanical gardens and the zoo and thought about the wonderful view from the sixteenth floor.
CHAPTER 18
Rorke left the restaurant a little before 7:00 pm, and after saying good-bye to Jun on the sidewalk, took a taxi to her hotel. She spoke with Hal shortly after she arrived. They met in her hotel room.
“Are you going to the Guangdong farm tomorrow?” he asked.
“No, the day after. Can you have your men there?”
“They’ll be there. They’re already working on the farm.”
“When did you arrange that?”
“A month ago. Experienced farm workers are becoming harder to find.”
“Do they think we have the right rice?”
“Yes. They call it ‘Thailand rice’ and whatever this ‘Thailand rice’ is, they think it’s amazing.”
“Can they bring it to us?”
“Just point out the specimen you want and they’ll make sure I have it for Sloan.”
“They’ll probably have a better idea of the specimens of interest than I will.”
“Probably. Your photos of plants outside of the paddy can confirm how invasive this strain becomes. Why don’t you want to take Sloan?”
“He’s traveling on his own passport and he’d need to show it to Jun for papers to go over the border. After that our smuggling brothers would do a little research on him. We don’t want to risk that.”
“How about Franco?”
“We keep him in the dark.”
“Okay,” said Hal.
“Are you seeing Chao tonight?” Rorke asked.
“I’m going to try. He’s a regular at the bar I’ll visit, and we’ll see if he shows. My guys say he goes there three or four days a week to have a few quick drinks before going to dinner.”
“Do you have it all worked out?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I’m bringing Alissa Low over tomorrow.”
“From Singapore?”
“No, she’s still in Malaysia. You’re confused because her go-to routine is that Singapore shtick.”
“Singapore Sling?”
“For her, sweet drinks can be very useful.”
“I suppose,” Rorke said quietly. “Okay. That’ll work. Alissa is very effective.” She hesitated, “Are you going to burn her when you’re done?”
“Yes. She’ll have to go back to Langley for a year or more. She’s fine with it.”
“Good. Are you sure of the background information for Chao?”
“Yes, of course,” said Hal. “My alter-ego is an orphan with no local family. He’s a software engineer in Boston. He looked a lot like me when I was his age.”
“You’re going to do the old prep school geography method?”
“Yeah, it works every time—the fancier the prep school, the easier the conversation, and Chao’s school is one of Hong Kong’s most exclusive. Their yearbook is amazingly descriptive. If he does any research on me, there I am. We’ll be old friends in five minutes,” said Hal.
“How are you going to cement the relationship after the old boy introduction?”
“I updated our Cambridge software company’s website a few weeks ago. It’s right up his alley. I’m sure we’ll have a great conversation about how much money he can make for me.”
“Well, happy hunting tonight. If I don’t speak with you again, your men in Guangdong will recognize me, won’t they?”
“Yes, Sam. You’ll be the only redhead in the province.”
***
A half-hour later, under a neon sign at the busy corner on D’Aguilar Street, Hal stood, expecting news. The sidewalk was jammed with people going to the many restaurants, nightclubs, and bars in the neighborhood. From out of the crowd, a man came up to Hal and pulled him aside.
“He’s in there,” said the man, gesturing to the bar across the street. “He just arrived, and he’s alone.” The man dissolved into the stream of walkers.
Hal walked over to the bar the man had pointed to. The bar was the front room of a pricey restaurant, and everything in the place spoke of extravagance. The long polished mahogany bar and shelving were accented with a brass foot rail and brass bar rails cordoned the wait-staff station. The lighting was soft, and seductively adequate. The bar stools were leather and elegantly comfortable. Chao perched on the last seat of the bar, exchanging friendly banter with the barman, and gesturing to the television.
Chao appeared larger than his profile. He had gained weight, although it looked to be more muscle than fat. The impression was that he was large, strong, and fit. He was dressed in slacks, an open-collared shirt, and a sports coat. They looked expensive. He wore a Rolex watch and a large ring with a stone Hal could not identify from where he sat.
Chao’s interaction with the bartender was like that of an old friend. They were both laughing at something the other had said. They paid attention to each other and to the television in the corner of the bar above Chao’s seat.
Hal took a stool in the middle of the bar. He waved at the bartender who came to take his order, filled it, and walked back to resume his conversation with Chao. Hal enjoyed his drink and watched the television. After a short while, Chao casually glanced over to him and back to the barman. Hal casually looked at him before turning his attention back to the television.
A minute or two later, Hal left his stool, walked down the bar to Chao and asked tentatively, “Excuse me, did you go to Pelham College?”
“Yes,” Chao said, “Why do you ask?”
“I think we were there at the same time. You’re ‘Chao’ right? You were two years ahead of me. I remember you played on the football team. You were the goal keeper.”
The Rice Thieves Page 14
