Finale, page 6
“I’ll make some calls. How do I reach you?”
“I’m calling from my home line. Does the number show?”
“Yes.”
“If I don’t answer, then you can phone my mobile,” Uncle said and recited his number.
“I’ll get right on it,” said Chung.
“One more thing,” said Uncle. “My partner may need to visit Surabaya. If she needs any help, can you arrange it?”
“I don’t have any men there, but it is only an hour’s flight from here, so I can get someone there in a hurry if you need them.”
“That is good to know, and of course I would pay for the men and their expenses,” Uncle said — an offer he hadn’t made to Phan, a fellow triad. But Chung was a jago, and the sense of obligation wasn’t as keen.
“I wouldn’t hear of it,” Chung said sharply.
“Thank you, Chung,” Uncle said, pleased that he still valued their past ties.
“You are welcome. I’ll be in touch.”
Uncle put down the phone and rested his head against the back of the chair. The lethargy he’d felt when he woke seemed to have taken over every muscle in his body. He closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, and tried to think of something more pleasant. Replaying horse races in his mind always calmed him, and he thought of the third race from the night before. He watched the horses as they entered the starting gate, and noted with satisfaction that his choice, number four, did so routinely. It was a twelve-horse field running a distance of 1,650 metres, so a good start, while always beneficial, wasn’t necessary. Still, he felt confident when he saw his horse break well. The jockey positioned him in third, only a couple of lengths behind the leader . . .
( 9 )
Uncle heard a phone ringing in the distance and wondered whose it was. He tried to open his eyes but they felt glued shut. He realized he’d been sleeping, and started to turn sideways as if to get out of bed, only to be blocked by the arms of a chair.
“He’s been sleeping for hours,” he heard Lourdes say. Then there was long pause, and she said, “No, I couldn’t do that. But when he wakes, I’ll tell him you called.”
He sat upright. “Lourdes, what’s going on?”
Flustered, she hung up the phone. “That was Sonny. It was the third time he’s called. He just wanted you to know that Ava got off on time, and then he was wondering if you needed him for anything.”
Uncle was facing the window and noticed that the streetlights were on. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost eight o’clock. It hadn’t been much later than mid-morning when he called Chung. Disconcertingly, he realized he had slept away the entire day. He rose to his feet and went directly to the bathroom. He slapped cold water on his face and returned to the living room, where Lourdes stood uncomfortably by her bedroom door.
“Can I get you anything to eat or drink, sir?”
“Not right now,” he said. “Did anyone else call?”
“Yes, Mr. Fong and a man named Chung.”
“What did Mr. Fong want?”
“He didn’t say.”
“And Mr. Chung?”
“He said to tell you that he has the information you asked for.”
“Good, I’ll phone him first,” Uncle said. He looked at his chair and decided he had to get away from it. He collected his contact book and cell phone and left the apartment.
It was much noisier outside than it had been when he’d made calls from there a few nights before. Uncle walked along the street until he came to the recessed entrance of a closed store. He stepped inside and phoned Jakarta.
“Chung, this is Uncle. Sorry I missed your call earlier.”
“Not to worry.”
“What have you found out about Bank Linno?”
“Well, it does exist, and its headquarters are in Surabaya. Aside from its operations there, it has a few branches scattered across the rest of East Java province. It has been around for decades, and its client base has mostly been local farmers and fishermen.”
“It has no presence anywhere else?”
“We thought it might have a branch in Jakarta, but it seems to be entirely local to East Java.”
“Then what is it doing with a branch in Toronto, Canada?”
“Is that a joke?” Chung asked.
“No, I was told the bank had a branch in Toronto. It closed recently, but it was there and doing business.”
“That’s odd. There are a few other puzzling details that we uncovered,” said Chung.
“Such as?”
“For one, we were told its asset base has significantly expanded over the past several years.”
“Who told you that?”
“We have a connection at the Ministry of Finance whose brother works for the division that regulates banks.”
“What did he think was responsible for the increase?”
“He said the bank’s ownership changed about six years ago, and suggested the new owners were behind the infusion,” said Chung.
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Except there were some things related to the ownership change that struck our connection as strange,” Chung said. “Specifically, the laws here dictate that all banks must be owned by Indonesians. Officially, and on the record, the new owners appear to be Indonesian, but the president is British. Our contact thought that was unusual enough to mention. I mean, why is a British banker running a small local bank in East Java?”
“Have the bank regulators in Jakarta looked into it?”
“They have no reason to. The bank appears to be following all the rules and regulations, and there is no law against hiring foreigners.”
“Well, there’s no point in us speculating about it. I’ll pass this information along to my partner. If there is something more to this bank than appears on the surface, she will be able to unearth it,” Uncle said. “I still don’t know if she’ll be going to Surabaya, but if she does, I’ll be in touch again.”
“I’m here for you. Call me anytime,” said Chung.
Uncle thought briefly about calling Ava but didn’t want to disturb her. When they were on a job, their pattern was always for Ava to reach out to him when the need arose, and rarely the reverse, unless there was something of real importance to share. As interesting as it was, he didn’t think the Bank Linno information had any urgency attached to it. So, instead, he phoned Fong.
“Ah, Uncle, my least favourite customer,” Fong answered.
“I had a good night,” Uncle laughed. “But I’m not always that lucky, and hopefully I won’t have to use the services of the betting shop again.”
“Do you want me to close the account? I can bring you the cash.”
“No, leave it there for now,” Uncle said, thinking that the treatments scheduled in the coming weeks might keep him at home again.
Before Fong could reply, Uncle’s phone beeped, and he saw Ava’s cell number. “I have an incoming call from Ava that I have to take. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow,” he said quickly, then switched lines. “How are things in Ho Chi Minh City?” he answered. “Did you get the help you needed?”
“I did, thanks.”
“And have you managed to corner Lam yet?”
“Yes, and it wasn’t very difficult — he was waiting for someone to show up, for someone to confess to.”
“Some people cannot carry guilt.”
“It was more fear than guilt,” she said.
“It is hard to tell the difference sometimes. So, what is his story?”
“It’s more complicated than we thought,” she said.
“The money is gone?”
“I don’t know for certain, but the people who Lam says stole it are dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yes — decapitated actually. I’m looking at pictures of their heads sitting on a chair as we speak.”
Uncle felt a chill run down his spine. “This is not what we expected.”
“It’s a bizarre story.”
“I am listening,” he said.
“Well, Lam told me he put the money into something called the Surabaya Fidelity Fund, which he thought was legitimate. A close friend, a man named Purslow who worked at Bank Linno, told him about the fund. He said it was reserved for special customers of the bank, and that its returns were guaranteed. Lam bought the story and started depositing the money from his clients into it. The fund paid a dividend to Lam every month. He deducted two percent, which he split with Purslow, and passed the balance along to his clients.”
“Was that enough to keep them happy?”
“Oh yes, and they kept putting more money into the fund until —”
“Their dividends stopped.”
“Exactly. And when they did, Lam went to Purslow, who told him there was a glitch in the bank’s accounting system and that it would take a few days to sort out,” said Ava. “When those days had passed, Lam tried to contact Purslow again but got a voice message that said he was on holiday. Lam panicked and went to the bank. After some considerable confusion, he finally met with two senior bank officers. They informed him that the Emerald Lion Fund did not have an account at the bank, and that it appeared the money had gone into a numbered account that was controlled by Purslow. Furious, Lam threatened to go to the police. The bank officers convinced him to hold off for a week until they could find out more about what had happened to the money. As an inducement, they offered to pay the dividend that had been missed. Lam agreed.”
“When did he hear from them again?”
“The next day, one of the officers called him to say that the money had been transferred offshore, but he wouldn’t tell him where. Instead, Lam was told the bank would take matters into its own hands and he wasn’t to worry. They said they would find Purslow and return the money to Lam. Until they did, they wanted Lam to stay quiet, and offered to keep paying the monthly dividends until the matter was fully resolved.”
“What were the officers’ names?”
“Muljadi and Rocca.”
“Muljadi is Indonesian, and Rocca sounds Italian, though he could be from anywhere,” said Uncle. “Did either of them ever reach out to Lam again?”
“Not directly. When the week was up, he tried calling them without success, and then went back to the bank. He found it shuttered. Next, he contacted the landlords to see if they had any information. They had none they were willing to share. When he told them he was going to go to the police, they said that wasn’t a good idea,” she said. “The following day, as he was leaving his apartment, Lam was accosted by two bikers who told him to back off or risk getting hurt. He debated about what to do until a few days later, when a brown envelope was shoved under his door. It contained a newspaper article from the Tico Times in Costa Rica, with a photo of two men’s heads on a chair. The article was about the murder of two Canadian tourists. One of them was Purslow.”
“Lam must have been terrified.”
“Enough that the next day he caught a plane to Ho Chi Minh City,” she said.
“So what does Lam believe now, after he’s had some time to think about it? Did the bank have Purslow killed?”
“He thinks it’s very possible, and on the whole I don’t disagree with him.”
“You believe his story?”
“I do. I felt he was telling me as much of the truth as he knew,” she said. “And before I left, he gave me all of his financial records relating to the fund, including his initial agreement, deposits, and the payouts.”
Ava’s recounting of Lam’s story was so gripping that Uncle found it difficult to stay still as he listened. He left the store entranceway and started walking along the street. When she finished, he realized he’d gone about a kilometre without being aware of it.
“From everything you’ve told me, it seems the money is most likely out of reach,” he said.
There was a short silence from Ava, and then she said, “I still want to try to find it.”
Uncle turned and began to retrace his steps. “Ava, if you set your mind to it, I know you might be able to find the money. What I am saying is that it may not be worth the risk. We do not know who is at the other end of the money trail. All we know is that they were prepared to kill two men to keep its whereabouts a secret.”
“I’m not ready to give up,” she said. “We still have a link to Lam and the money: Bank Linno. Let’s find out what we can about it. I’m going to call Johnny Yan at the Toronto Commonwealth Bank to ask if he knows anything about the bank, Muljadi, and Rocca.”
“I already have some information,” Uncle said, and then repeated what Chung had told him earlier.
Ava hesitated after he finished. “Do you think you could ask him for more detail?”
“What is it you have in mind?” he replied, slightly taken aback by the subtle implication that he had missed something.
“It could be useful to know the name of the British president. If possible, I’d also like to know the level of actual capitalization, and get more information about the owner and how the deal was done.”
Uncle found a wall to lean against. He felt his face flush with embarrassment. These were questions he should have asked when he was talking to Chung. Was his mind going to start betraying him now, in addition to his body?
“I’ll call my contact as soon as we’re finished. I’ll tell him we need the information urgently.”
( 10 )
An hour later, Uncle sat in his chair while he waited for Chung to call him back with the information Ava had requested. Chung hadn’t been surprised by the questions, and that made Uncle even more sure that he should have thought to ask them during their first conversation.
Lourdes had steamed rice for him when he returned from the street, and he had managed to eat two bowls of it. The rice felt like a heavy lump in his stomach, but there was no pain and no nausea. He had washed it down with a glass of water, after resisting the temptation to take a bottle of San Miguel from the fridge. If I still feel okay in a couple of days, he thought, maybe I’ll take a sip or two of beer and try to expand my diet.
As he contemplated moving beyond plain white rice and congee, his phone rang and Uncle saw the Indonesian country code.
“Chung, thank you for getting back to me so quickly,” he answered.
“This is Perkasa. I’m Chung’s son. My father had to go to a meeting and asked me to call you when we had the information you requested.”
“You know the contact?”
“I went to university with him.”
“Ah,” Uncle said, realizing that time was passing Chung by as well as him. “I very much appreciate the help you are providing.”
“You are a man who has earned that help. My father and his colleagues think the world of you, and I am someone who respects those who have gone before me.”
“That is kind of you to say.”
“It is simply the truth,” said Perkasa. “Now, can I relay what I’ve learned?”
“Please.”
“The president of the bank is named Andy Cameron. He is British, but of Scottish descent, and my understanding from my university days in Singapore is that the Scots don’t like being referred to as British.”
“How unusual is it for an Indonesian bank to have a president who isn’t Indonesian?”
“This is the only occurrence my contact knows.”
“What about capitalization?”
“It has grown by hundreds of millions every year since Cameron arrived. In fact, my contact estimates it is now about twenty times higher than it was before the change in leadership.”
“Are those U.S. dollars?”
“They are, and the bank’s capitalization is now around four billion of them,” said Perkasa. “For a bank that doesn’t rank in the top fifty in the country in terms of the number of branches and employees, that is a remarkable sum.”
“Your father said the bank was sold just before Cameron became president.”
“It was. It was founded about fifty years ago, and until recently it operated only in East Java. A small-time operation. Cameron’s hiring and the influx of capital started as soon as the new owners took over,” Perkasa said.
“The connection between Cameron, new ownership, and the influx can’t be coincidental,” Uncle said.
“Probably not, but as far as my contact knows there is nothing illegal going on.”
“If there was, could government officials be persuaded to turn a blind eye?”
Perkasa laughed. “They most certainly could. Making money on the side is a time-honoured tradition in our national government.”
“Who are the new owners?”
“A couple of local East Java businessmen are the majority shareholders, but I was told they are likely frontmen for bigger fish.”
“Foreigners?”
“Possibly, but not necessarily.”
Uncle searched his mind for more questions he could ask about the bank and found none that weren’t repetitive, so he switched gears. “I think my partner, Ava Lee, will be travelling to Surabaya tomorrow to look into the bank. Your father told me he would send someone from Jakarta to provide help if she needed it. Do you have any idea who that might be?”
“Yes, it would be me.”
“I had assumed since you went to university that you wouldn’t be in your father’s line of work.”
“Well, I am. I’m a jago like him, and I’m proud of it.”
“And if my partner needs active support?”
“I can’t think of anything she could request that I couldn’t deliver.”
“She is a very capable young woman, but she’ll be working in an unknown environment,” Uncle said. “Hopefully she won’t need your assistance, but it is comforting to know you are on standby.”
“You can count on me,” said Perkasa.
“Thank you, and pass along my thanks to your father as well,” Uncle said.
