Finale, page 10
“So that’s how much cash they’ve flown into Surabaya?” Uncle asked.
“That would be my conclusion.”
“That’s more than I imagined,” he said. “How much information is there about the real estate purchases?”
“Dates, company names, company officers and directors, addresses, and phone numbers for every company receiving a loan. Payment schedules, copies of corporate and personal guarantees — and on and on it goes, including detailed records of every property being financed.”
“Just the kind of information you would need to record if you were really running a banking operation.”
“Exactly.”
“And all of which would look completely above board unless someone knew what they were doing.”
“Yes.”
“How are the loans grouped?” Uncle asked.
“By branch and then by date, which makes for a simple paper trail. I downloaded all of the information twice. I’ll keep a stick with me and arrange to have one sent to you before I leave Surabaya.”
“You’ll have to move quickly, because we have you booked on a Cathay Pacific flight leaving at six tonight.”
“I’m at my hotel. They’ll do it for me.”
“Aside from the real estate information, did you find out anything else useful?”
“Yes, I looked at the bank’s deposit records. At the outset, six years ago, large deposits were made about once a month. By year three, there were two or three a month, and over the last year it looks like cash has been flown in weekly. Also, for the past six months the deposits have typically been made on Wednesdays, which suggests to me the money is arriving on Tuesdays. I want to confirm that with Cameron.”
“Are they chartering private planes?”
“Yes — a company called Brava Italia supplies them.”
“How large are these weekly deposits?”
“None were smaller than the equivalent of twenty million U.S. dollars, and some exceeded fifty million.”
“That’s impressive,” said Uncle, then he paused before asking, “Did you check on Cameron’s ability to transfer money?”
“I tried, but I couldn’t think of any way to confirm it other than trying to send a wire transfer for more than a million. I didn’t think that was wise, since it would have meant identifying a receiving bank, and even if I had been successful, it would have left a record.”
“You did the right thing,” Uncle said, not completely surprised that he and Ava had thought it through the same way. “Now, Ava, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what to do about Cameron. There is no doubt he’s a major problem.”
“I know, and something I forgot to say earlier is that he told me he meets the Italians every Sunday night at seven for dinner.”
“If he goes tonight, what are the chances that he’ll mention your name?”
“I’m one hundred percent certain he’d tell them that and a whole lot more.”
“Then we have to make sure he never speaks to them,” said Uncle.
He heard Ava sigh and knew she agreed with him, despite it being a heavy burden to bear.
“We have no choice,” she said.
“But you don’t have to be the one who does it,” Uncle said. “I’ve discussed it with Perkasa, and he’s prepared to do what’s necessary.”
“No,” Ava said quickly. “You know I can’t ask someone to do that kind of job for me.”
“I know how you feel, but there is nothing more for you to prove, and no one will think less of you if you let Perkasa handle it.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Okay,” he said, knowing there was no point in arguing with her. “But getting rid of Cameron doesn’t eliminate the ‘Ndrangheta threat. How do you think the Italians will react when Cameron doesn’t show up for their meeting?”
“They’ll go nuts. I imagine they’ll talk to everyone in his immediate circle, and then try to reconstruct everything he’s done and everyone he’s met over the previous week.”
“I agree, and that means there’s a risk that your name and the names of Johnny Yan’s friends will come up,” said Uncle. “We need to give them a story that doesn’t involve any of you.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well, what if Cameron decided he’d had enough of life in Surabaya and it was time to leave? Given his experience with the ’Ndrangheta, he would know they would never let him leave voluntarily, so he’d have to sneak out of the country. He’d also need insurance, so I imagine he’d take all of the bank data with him in case the Italians managed to track him down.”
“I like that as a story, but we’d need to provide proof for the Italians to believe it.”
“Perkasa told me the guys working with you have connections at the airport. What if you bought an airline ticket in Cameron’s name using one of his credit cards for a flight out of Indonesia, and what if someone pretending to be Cameron actually checked in at the airport and — even better — got on the flight?”
Ava hesitated, and Uncle wondered if his idea was too far-fetched.
Then she said, “That might work, you know. I could get Cameron to call his housekeeper and tell her he’s taking a short, unexpected trip out of the country and needs his passport and an overnight bag. Perkasa could pick them up from her. For sure, she’d be one of the first people the Italians would speak to when he didn’t show for dinner. That would plant the idea that he’s left Surabaya and point them towards the airport. We could park his car there for them to find.”
“Is all of that doable?”
“Entirely. In fact, I have his wallet with me and could book a flight right now. Where do you want him to go?”
Uncle smiled. “He’s scheduled to meet the Italians at seven, so why don’t you find a flight that leaves around that time and book it. The destination doesn’t matter.”
“You mentioned him getting on a flight; how would we arrange that?” Ava asked.
“Talk to Perkasa about that. Hopefully, with enough money and his connections, we’ll find airline employees willing to turn a blind eye if someone else uses Cameron’s passport.”
“Someone else?”
“Why not Perkasa? We want to get him out of Surabaya as well.”
“I’ll talk to him before booking a flight for Cameron. His men may have better connections at a specific airline over another, and if that’s the case then I’ll book the flight on it.”
“You are as logical as ever,” Uncle said.
“Thanks, but as much as I like that we’ve cobbled together a plan, I hate the idea of leaving Surabaya without recovering a single dollar for our clients.”
“Your safety is my priority.”
“I know,” Ava said. “I’ll be on that plane at six.”
“Do you want me to brief Perkasa?”
“No, I’ll handle it.”
“Fine. Call me if you run into any problems. Otherwise I will be at Chek Lap Kok to meet you when your flight arrives,” he said.
“We’ll make it work.”
“Be careful, Ava.”
“As always.”
Uncle put down the phone feeling confident that Ava and Perkasa would execute things smoothly in Surabaya. Then he sat back and thought about the information Ava had unearthed. It had to be of value, but to whom? And how could they extract enough value to make their clients whole?
Under normal circumstances, the information could be used as leverage to pry money from those who had stolen it. But in this case that was the ’Ndrangheta, and there was no way he was going near them. Who else was there who might have an interest in the information? One group came immediately to mind, but would they be willing to pay for it? And even if they were, would they be prepared to pay millions? Uncle knew one man who might be able to answer those questions, and he picked up the phone to call him.
Zhang Delun had spent his entire working life with the Hong Kong Police Force, and had reached the rank of Chief Superintendent before retiring. He and Uncle had shared information and collaborated countless times over the years. It had been a tightly held, very confidential relationship that had never been breached. They weren’t friends, but they had developed a sense of mutual trust and respect that went beyond friendship. Uncle hadn’t spoken to Zhang in years, and as he dialled his number it occurred to him that something may have happened to the policeman. But a moment later he felt a touch of relief when he heard a familiar voice say, “Wei, this is Zhang.”
“How are you, Zhang? This is Uncle.”
“Uncle, what could a retired triad boss want from a retired chief superintendent?”
“I’m calling for your advice. I have stumbled across some information that doesn’t involve triads or the Hong Kong police, but could be of real interest to other law enforcement agencies. I’d like to know how best to handle it.”
( 17 )
Uncle did not hear from Ava for the rest of afternoon, so he phoned Perkasa at quarter to six.
“Uncle, I was hoping to hear from you,” the jago answered.
“And I’m glad I caught you. Did things go well?” Uncle asked. “Is Ava at the airport?”
“She boarded her plane five minutes ago. I’m boarding mine soon.”
“So everything went well?”
“Cameron is dead, and buried where no one will find him. His car is parked at the airport, and I’m sitting at a Singapore Airlines gate with his passport and a boarding pass to Singapore in his name. Nearby is a very co-operative and helpful gate agent who — if asked — will swear that he saw Cameron get on this plane. My local guys really came through for us.”
“That’s good to hear. I was worried,” said Uncle. “How did it go with Cameron? Did Ava take care of him?”
“No, she didn’t have to.”
“What do you mean?”
“We think he had a heart attack. One of my men found him keeled over. He was tied to a chair and had been sitting in the sun. We think the heat, the picana, and the stress got to him.”
Uncle took a deep breath. “That was fortunate. I didn’t relish the idea of one of you having to put a bullet in his head.”
“Ava and I felt the same sense of relief.”
“What are your plans now?”
“When I get to Singapore, I’ll clear customs and immigration under my own name, stay overnight somewhere, then catch a flight to Jakarta tomorrow.”
“That sounds perfect,” said Uncle. “Perkasa, I can’t thank you enough for your help with all of this.”
“You’ve done enough for my family over the years. I was pleased I was able to help.”
“Still, I’m going to send you more money tomorrow, and I don’t want you to argue with me about that,” Uncle said. “If you think it is too much, give some of it to your contacts in Surabaya.”
“Ava already looked after them very well, but it wouldn’t hurt to sweeten the deal.”
“I agree, and now I’ll let you catch that plane. Give my regards to your father.”
Uncle put down the phone and felt a slight tremor in his right hand. He stared at the hand and realized he had been nervous about the call to Perkasa. It seemed things had gone perfectly, but in the back of his mind he had been prepared for the worst.
He had a few hours to wait before Sonny would arrive, and he wondered how best to spend the time. After talking back and forth with Zhang for more than an hour, he phoned Fanling and laid his bets on the afternoon races at Sha Tin, and then he took a nap that went longer than he expected. The nap refreshed him, and it also seemed to settle his stomach. He thought about going out for something to eat, and then decided a bowl of plain white rice would suffice. If he still felt well when he met Ava, they could go out for a late-night plate of noodles.
Fifteen minutes later, and with a bowl of rice in his lap, Uncle sat in his chair and watched reruns of the day’s races. They were shown in real time which meant there was a break between each race, and when the last race ended it was already past nine o’clock. Uncle freshened up in the bathroom, put on his suit jacket, and went downstairs to wait for Sonny.
Traffic was light and they made it to Chep Lap Kok thirty minutes before Ava’s plane was scheduled to land. Sonny parked in the vip lane directly outside the arrivals area, and as Uncle was getting out a policeman hurried over.
“You can’t park —” the policeman began to say, then stopped when he saw Uncle and Sonny. “Uncle, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He then put a fist inside his opposite palm, lowered his head, and moved his hands up and down in a gesture of respect.
Uncle acknowledged him with a nod and said, “Thank you for your courtesy. I assume my car and driver can wait here for me?”
“Momentai, Momentai, Uncle.”
Uncle entered the cavernous arrivals hall, bought a late-edition newspaper, and went to the Kit Kat Koffee House. Even late on a Sunday evening the hall was bustling, and there was a wall of people lined up near the exit doors waiting for loved ones to emerge, something Uncle never did. The Kit Kat was his normal waiting place, and when Ava arrived she would know where to find him.
He ordered a cup of coffee and a glass of water and spread his paper on the retro-style laminated table. When his drinks were served, he took a cigarette from his pack, and was about to light it when he noticed the server staring at him and pointing at a sign that said no smoking. Uncle put away his lighter, but between sips of coffee he held the cigarette between his lips.
He read the racing writer’s analysis of that day’s races and didn’t find much to disagree with. He then turned to the news section and slowly worked his way through the paper. He was focused on a story about Chinese investment in Africa when he sensed he wasn’t alone. He looked up and saw Ava standing in front of him. “My beautiful girl,” he said as he rose to his feet.
She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m so happy you came to meet me.”
Uncle hesitated, not sure how to react. What she said wasn’t unusual, but her voice had cracked ever so slightly, and her tone seemed uncertain. He looked more closely at her and thought her face was paler than normal. “Is everything all right? Did something happen that you haven’t told me?” he asked.
She blinked, then averted her eyes.
Something did happen, he thought.
“No, nothing happened. Things with Cameron went as planned — in fact a bit better than planned,” she said.
Uncle began to speak again but caught himself. If there was something she wasn’t telling him, he knew she would have her reasons. “Well then, let’s go. Sonny has the car parked at the vip curb. We got here early, so I’m sure the police are growing impatient with us,” he said, and reached for one of her bags.
“No, Uncle, I can manage,” she said.
As they began to walk towards the terminal exit, he said, “I booked you a suite in the Mandarin Oriental, and I would have taken you to dinner at Man Wah but it closes at ten.”
“Just as well — they can fuss at Man Wah, and I’m not in the mood for a fuss. I’d rather eat noodles.”
He slipped his hand around her forearm and squeezed. “Then noodles it will be. The restaurant I like that’s close to the Mandarin is open until two.”
“I would like to shower and change before we eat if that’s not a bother.”
“There’s no rush,” he said.
Half an hour later, Sonny stopped the Mercedes at the front door of the Mandarin. The talk en route had been casual, with Uncle asking about her family, and Ava telling him about Amanda and Michael’s plans to marry. She then explained at length her role in the wedding party, and her doubts about how well she could pull it off. Uncle found that rather strange. Usually, when a job went sideways as this one had, Ava was eager to pick apart the details. Now it seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind.
He waited in the hotel lobby while she checked in, showered, and changed. He smiled when he saw her emerge from the elevator with a face that had more colour and in a mood that seemed more buoyant.
It was now well past eleven o’clock, but the streets in Central were still crowded. Sunday was family day for the Chinese, the traditional day off for the hundreds of thousands of Filipina housemaids and yayas who lived in Hong Kong, and just another workday for the restaurants and businesses that stayed open to serve them. Uncle looped his arm through Ava’s and let her navigate their way to the noodle restaurant.
The owner saw them as they reached the entrance, and before a world was spoken, he was already moving other customers around so he could accommodate them. Most of the other tables were occupied by families having a late-night snack. At one, four heavily tattooed men, two of them with their hair pulled back in ponytails, were drinking beer and sharing platters of grilled squid and snow pea tips fried in oil and garlic. When the men saw Uncle and Ava, they began to talk among themselves, and then stood as one to approach the table.
“It is an honour to meet you, Uncle,” the one who looked the oldest said, bowing his head. The others followed suit.
“Where are you from?” Uncle asked.
“14K Wanchai.”
“Give my regards to Mountain Master Chen,” said Uncle.
“And he would want to send his deepest regards to you,” the man said.
“Thank you,” Uncle said, with a slight dip of his head.
The man stared at Ava. “Are you Ava Lee?”
“I am,” she said, taken aback.
“Everyone has heard about Macau,” he said.
“You’re famous now,” another added.
