The Mountain Master of Sha Tin, page 8
“How about Andy and Carlo? Do you want them there as well?”
“I do. They should set up near the restaurant entrance and keep track of who’s coming and going,” Ava said.
“What time do you want to leave for Sha Tin?”
“Should we drive or take the train?”
“I’d prefer to drive. I don’t like the idea of carrying firearms on the train, even if they are in a gym bag. And it’s an easy enough drive. It’s less than twenty kilometres.”
“Okay. And I think you should have Ko travel with us so we arrive together,” Ava said. “It will also give me a chance to meet him and make sure Suen has briefed him.”
“That makes sense. I’ll call Ko and let him know. I’ll pick him up before I come to get you. I suggest we leave the Mandarin around ten-fifteen,” Sonny said. “Andy and Carlo can get to Sha Tin by themselves. I’ll ask them to be at the Plaza by ten so they can scout the location. If they see anything odd going on, that will give them time to give us a heads-up.”
“It sounds like we have a plan,” Ava said. “If anything changes on my end, I’ll let you know. Otherwise I’ll see you here tomorrow morning.”
“It’s good to be doing real work again,” Sonny said.
His comment caught Ava off guard. It was easy to forget Sonny’s past and to take for granted that he was satisfied with driving her father and half-brother around Hong Kong. She knew his loyalty to her held him back from voicing whatever dissatisfaction he felt. She had told him several times that Xu had offered to take him into the gang, but he had declined even to consider it. She wondered if perhaps she should be more forceful, although this wasn’t the time to pursue it. Instead she said, “Sonny, I want to tell you how useful our conversation in the car was on the way from the airport. The background information you gave me about the Wings really helped me frame my talk with Sammy, and I’m sure it will be equally helpful tomorrow. So, a big thank-you.”
“That’s why I’m here, boss,” he said, and then paused. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ava checked the time, saw it was almost eight o’clock, and wondered if she could still get a table at Man Wah, the restaurant on the twenty-fifth floor. She dialled its extension on the room phone and a host answered.
“This is Ave Lee; I’m a hotel guest. Is there a table for one available if I arrive in the next few minutes?”
“Ms. Lee, welcome back to the Mandarin. I’m certain we can find something suitable for you,” the host said.
She smiled. Both Jennie Lee and May Ling put great store in cultivating relationships with staff at their favourite restaurants and shops. It often resulted in special treatment such as bypassing lines or getting a premium table. It was a talent Ava was trying to cultivate but hadn’t quite mastered — though she was getting better at it.
“Is this Mister Chung?” she said.
“It is.”
“I’m so pleased you remember me.”
“You and Ms. Wong are two of our favourite customers.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Ava said. “Do you think you could extend that kindness by finding me a table near a window? I haven’t been in Hong Kong for a while, and I’ve really missed the evening view of the harbour.”
“Come right up,” he said. “I have something exactly like that in mind.”
* * *
* * *
Five minutes later, Ava was met by Mr. Chung at the restaurant entrance and personally led to a table with an unimpeded view of the harbour through one of the large windows in the north wall. The harbour view was spectacular, but it wasn’t the only thing worth looking at in Man Wah. The other walls were decorated with an array of paintings on silk, and overhead were rows of exquisite ceiling lamps in gold-plated and lacquered metal, fashioned to look like birdcages.
She ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and then sipped jasmine tea while she read the menu and waited for her wine. When the wine was poured and approved, she ordered marinated abalone with jellyfish, hot and sour soup with fish maw, and pan-fried wagyu beef, and then debated between a wok-fried Dover sole with bean sauce and fried noodles with shrimp and roast duck. Her server gently suggested the Dover sole, and she went along with it.
She had eaten dim sum at Man Wah more times than she could count, but dinner less often. Some of those dinners had been memorable, though. Front of mind was a meal she’d had with May Ling. Ava was still nursing a grudge then and didn’t really trust May, but over the course of the meal May had opened up to her and the two women began to bond. May was a Taoist; she confessed that night that the very first time she had met Ava, she felt what Taoists call qi — life force — pass between them. Taoists, May explained, believe in kindred spirits, in soulmates. They embrace the concept of yin and yang, but the two symbols don’t necessarily represent man and woman. Everyone lacks something in their lives, and most people never find the missing piece. When May had met Ava, she told her, she thought she’d found her missing piece, her kindred spirit, her soulmate. At the time Ava didn’t completely understand or accept everything May said, but in the years since she had come to share some of May’s beliefs.
The abalone and jellyfish were served first, and from there the meal progressed — as it always did at Man Wah — in a measured and well-paced manner. Ava sipped her wine carefully but still managed to finish most of the bottle by the time she’d eaten the last sliver of wagyu. She charged the bill to her room, leaving a large tip, and left the restaurant feeling sated. Sammy and Carter Wing had been completely put aside until morning.
* * *
Ava hadn’t taken her cell to the restaurant, so she checked it as soon as she got back to her room. There hadn’t been any calls or texts, which pleasantly surprised her. She thought about showering, decided to wait until morning, and simply washed her face, brushed her teeth, and unpinned her hair. She took a bottle of cognac from the hospitality bar and carried it into the bedroom, where she stripped, put on a black Giordano T-shirt, and climbed into bed. It was too early to sleep, so she turned on the television. Nothing on the English channels grabbed her interest, so she switched to the Chinese. Her mother watched several soap operas set in the times of ancient emperors that had become guilty pleasures for Ava, but she couldn’t find them. What she did find was a channel showing classic Chinese films. Among them was The Story of Jin Zhi Ruo.
The Story of Jin Zhi Ruo had been the third collaboration between Lau Lau and Fai. It was set during the Cultural Revolution and detailed the life of a young female doctor in a small country town. Part of Mao’s revolution had been the debasement of academics and professionals, doctors among them. Lau Lau’s film detailed Zhi Ruo’s struggle to serve her community in the face of Party officials who, aided by roving gangs, threatened, terrorized, abused, and ultimately killed her. It was more melodramatic than most of Lau Lau’s work — crammed with emotion — and a tear-jerker to an extraordinary degree. Ava debated whether she was up to watching it. Finally she rolled over, picked up her phone from the night table, and called Shanghai.
“Hi. I was just thinking about you,” Fai said.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in bed.”
“Me too. I was just trying to decide if I wanted to watch The Story of Jin Zhi Ruo on television.”
“Goodness me, Ava, even I can’t bring myself to watch that anymore,” Fai said. “Lau Lau was going through a bad time when he made it, and he took it all out on poor Zhi Ruo. What he did to that woman was terrible. I’ve always thought she was my surrogate.”
“That settles it. I’ll find a comedy instead.”
“A better choice.”
“How was your evening with Auntie Grace?”
“It was wonderful. We sat in the kitchen and talked, or rather, we sat in the kitchen and she grilled me about making movies and various actors. She does like to gossip.”
“How personal did you get?”
“About me and us, I managed to avoid being indiscreet, except for telling her how much I love you,” Fai said. “When it came to my colleagues, I was more forthcoming.”
“I had a conversation with May Ling earlier this evening about one of your former colleagues.”
“Lau Lau?”
“Yes.”
“Are you still thinking about trying to do something with him?”
“I am.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“I know, but I find it very difficult to accept that someone with that much talent is unredeemable.”
“Many have tried to redeem him. All have failed.”
“That may be true, but I spoke to May anyway about putting up some money to get him into rehab, and if he can negotiate that, then we might put up more money for a script,” Ava said. “Fai, it isn’t like we can’t afford it, and if we go into it with our eyes open then the potential downside is minimal, while the upside could be . . . what? A great film?”
“I doubt you’ll get to the point where you can get an adequate script out of him,” Fai said, then paused. “Ava, what is it that you see in Lau Lau that’s making you so stubborn about this?”
“I guess I’m having a problem reconciling the wreck of a man I saw in Beijing with the wonderful things he was able to put on film. And I keep thinking that he’s too young for those movies to be his final legacy. Surely there’s more in him; surely he has more to contribute.”
“Ava, Lau Lau is a drunk, and there isn’t a drug he won’t use. Maybe those are his crutches, his excuses, because there’s nothing more he has to give creatively,” Fai said. “And even if you manage to dry him out, his sexuality is practically out in the open. How could you expect him to function in a system — in a culture — that would despise him because of it?”
“I think he was crushed by the system. If we can get him away from it, maybe he’ll rediscover at least part of what made him so great.”
“You’re not going to give up on this, are you,” Fai sighed.
“Not yet, but I do hear what you’re saying, and I won’t leap into anything,” Ava said. “I’m thinking I should speak to Chen. If we’re going to do anything, it would have to be through him. For all I know, he might tell me he has no interest.”
“I’m willing to wager that’s exactly what he will tell you.”
“That may be the case, but I want to talk to him anyway. Could you give me his contact information?”
“I’ll text it to you. I’m not keen to, but I will.”
“Fai, I’m not going to pursue this anymore tonight. You’ve made some valid points that I want to think about,” Ava said. “But the thing is, my memories of Lau Lau keep nagging at me. He’s the last piece of unfinished business from our Beijing adventure, and I’m never completely at ease when I have unfinished business.”
( 9 )
Ava dreamt of Uncle.
Before Chow Tung’s death, her father had dominated her dreams in repetitive, frustrating scenarios that saw her trying to meet up with him in hotels, airports, or restaurants. She was never successful and woke more than once with tears in her eyes. The dreams were so frequent that there were times she dreaded going to sleep, but now she never gave it a thought, because it was Uncle who was now her usual nocturnal visitor.
This night, Uncle was sitting in the Kit Kat Koffee House. He called to her as she passed, and Ava went inside to sit with him. They were the only people in the place. His racing form was open and spread across the table. He was smoking, his face wreathed in the haze, and an ashtray full of cigarette butts sat on the form.
Are you coming or going? he asked.
I’m not sure.
That does not matter. I am just pleased that I caught you.
Were you waiting for me?
Yes. I was told you were in Hong Kong.
Do you know why? Ava asked.
You have a meeting with Sammy Wing and his nephew Carter.
Do you know Carter?
I do. He is an easy man to dislike, and an easy man to underestimate.
That sounds like Sammy.
There are similarities. They both think they are smarter than they are, but I found them to be sly rather than intelligent. Neither of them hesitates to lie, and the only needs that concern them are their own.
So I can’t trust them?
Not at all.
Ava wanted a coffee but there were no servers, and no one behind the counter. Are we completely alone? she asked.
I thought our conversation should be private, Uncle said, his eyes fixed on her.
Why?
I have known Sammy for more than forty years. He has ears everywhere. He is a sneak, and he has never been any different.
What is it you want to tell me that you don’t want him to hear?
Uncle shifted in his chair and leaned slightly towards Ava. When you meet with the Wings, Sammy will do most of the talking. I do not want you to be fooled by that, he said slowly. Carter is the one making the decisions. He is the true enemy, and he is vicious.
Vicious how?
Sammy talks and acts tough, but in all the years I have known him, he has never personally fired a gun or put a knife into someone. Carter has done both many times. I think he enjoys doing it.
I’ve handled tough men before.
I know, and I do not doubt your abilities, but Carter is unpredictable. He likes to attack when his target least expects it. With him, you have to be particularly careful.
Be careful. There were those words again, Ava thought as she woke. She opened her eyes to see daylight flickering around the edges of the drawn curtains. She lay quietly for a few minutes, gathering her thoughts. She had managed to put Sammy and Carter to one side the night before, but now they filled her head.
She slid out of bed and went to the bathroom. When she came back, she made a cup of black coffee and found her cell. As soon as she picked it up, it rang. She saw Suen’s number and felt a rush of fear that something had happened to Xu.
“Good morning,” she said. “How is Xu?”
“He keeps improving, but that’s not why I’m calling,” Suen said. “Our problem in Hong Kong just became more complicated.”
“What’s happened now?”
“Sometime during the night, someone deposited the body of one of our men at the entrance to a bar we own in Wanchai. His throat had been slit.”
“When you say one of your men, was it one of the seven?”
“It was.”
“My god, how terrible,” Ava said, collapsing into a chair. “Who told you this?”
“Ko.”
“Does Xu know?”
“I haven’t been at the hospital since last night. I saw that you called and I listened to your message, but I spent the entire evening there, which is why you couldn’t reach me.”
“When will you see him again?”
“I’m not sure,” Suen said. “I’ve been thinking about it, and it seems to me I should wait until things are clearer at your end. I mean, one of our men is dead, but I’m hoping the other six are still alive. I don’t want to give the boss incomplete information.”
“How is the boss?”
“He’s getting better by the hour, but this kind of news might set him back.”
“Then don’t say anything just yet.”
“How long should I wait?” Suen asked.
“I have a meeting scheduled at eleven o’clock this morning with the Wings — or maybe I should say I had a meeting scheduled,” she said. “I have to call Sammy to find out if it’s still on or if the body was their way of telling us it’s been cancelled.”
“If the meeting is still on, I’m going to wait until you’ve spoken to them. If it isn’t, I’m heading directly to the hospital to talk to Xu.”
“I’ll phone Sammy right now.”
“Tell that son of a bitch that if I have to come to Hong Kong again, I’ll bring enough men and firepower to wipe him, his nephew, and all of their men off the face of the earth.”
“I understand how you feel, but you know there’s no point in aggravating an already bad situation, and threats aren’t going to save those six other men.”
“I’m still going to be organizing my men.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less.”
Suen paused. “Call me as soon as you’ve spoken to the Wings.”
Ava ended the call and cursed silently. She had tried to keep her emotions in check as she was speaking to Suen, but the death of Xu’s man alternately enraged and depressed her. Why is excessive violence so often the way these people communicate? It made the thought of calling Sammy repugnant, but Ava knew she had no other option. With resignation she punched in his number.
“Wei,” he answered.
“This is Ava.”
“I know who it is and I know why you are calling,” he said calmly.
“Then you should be ready to tell me why you killed Xu’s man.”
“He tried to run,” Sammy said.
“What?”
“He punched one of our guards and was halfway out the door when we stopped him,” Sammy said. “Carter was livid and decided to make an example of him.”
“The other six men are still alive?”
“They are, and instead of complaining about the one who’s dead, I think you should be grateful that we let the others live past the midnight deadline. As I remember, we left that up in the air.”
“I’m not going to thank you for using common sense.”
“From that remark I take it that you’re still prepared to meet with us this morning.”
“I was more concerned about your willingness.”
“Truthfully, Carter isn’t convinced it’s worth his time, but we’ll still be at Maxim’s at eleven,” he said.
