Jade legacy, p.50
Jade Legacy, page 50
During the three-and-a-half-hour flight, Wen and Shae studied a travel magazine and made plans to go to a Shotarian bathhouse and to see a musical at the world famous Leyolo City opera house. It had been some time since the two of them had had the opportunity to spend time together without the immediate demands of family. Wen could see her sister-in-law’s excitement growing, and when breakfast was served in the business-class cabin, Shae asked Wen, with an uncharacteristically sly grin, “It’s not too early in the morning to have a cocktail, is it?”
“Shae-jen,” Wen exclaimed, “I would never gainsay the Weather Man’s judgment.” The flight attendant mixed them slender glasses of lychee juice and sparkling wine.
“We’ll have to make dinner reservations for tonight, like normal people,” Shae added with bright anticipation. Even the fact that they could not expect to show up and be given priority was a novelty to look forward to, one that made the trip seem like an adventure.
They were not alone, of course; Wen’s two longtime bodyguards, Dudo and Tako, were sitting nearby and would accompany Wen wherever she went. The two former Fists were like extended family members to her. She’d gotten to know them well over the years, had met their spouses and children. The men had become adept at blending into any event that Wen attended, from clan gatherings to public appearances and charitable functions.
At times, Wen’s days were as busy as her husband’s, although she tried not to overschedule herself. She needed to bear in mind her own physical limitations, and her first responsibility was always to support the Pillar. No other Green Bone leader had ever made the questionable choice to appoint his own wife as Pillarman. Wen knew the clan’s lukewarm acceptance of her unusually elevated position depended on her striking the delicate balance of being active without overstepping. She embraced a visible role as wife and hostess, promoted causes such as the arts and the environment, and raised awareness of nonreactivity and disability. She was careful never to speak publicly about clan affairs nor to draw attention to herself in any way that might detract from Hilo’s authority.
Only privately within the family did she discuss the important issues facing No Peak. “Has the Leyolo City office had any trouble from the Mountain or their barukan allies?” she asked Shae.
Her sister-in-law closed the window shade as they flew east into the morning sunlight. “Fortunately, only a little, thanks to our relationships with the police.”
Shotarian law enforcement agencies had never had much success infiltrating the country’s insular ethnic Kekonese criminal groups. No Peak, however, possessed an effective network of White Rats in the Shotarian underworld. During his tenure as Horn, Juen Nu had calculated that the barukan gangs were a weak link in Ayt Mada’s power structure. Keko-Shotarians were an underclass in Shotar—generally impoverished, legally persecuted, accustomed to living in fear and treachery. It didn’t take much in the form of bribes or threats to induce them to give up information.
Although No Peak’s overseas spies yielded little truly useful information about the Mountain itself, since Ayt Mada would not be so careless as to share her plans with outsiders, it often did reveal the movement of money and people, which No Peak used to its advantage to blunt Ayt’s superior numbers. In an impressive example of cooperation between the military and business halves of the clan, this capability had become the Weather Man’s weapon in Shotar.
Shae was passing on information from the Horn’s side of the clan about barukan activities—major drug deals, weapons sales, prostitution rings, and so on—to Shotarian police officials, who were very willing to secretly accept tips from No Peak spies and receive all the credit from the press, the government, and the public for the resulting busts. Of course, she was not giving them this boon for nothing. Business permits, working visas, and important meetings were made to happen, and No Peak’s offices received special attention and security from the Leyolo City Police Department. The exchange had enabled the clan’s expansion into Shotar, and even skeptical Hami Tumashon had come around in support of the plan.
Wen lifted her glass to Shae’s. “Who could’ve imagined the irony of a Green Bone clan working with the Shotarian government?”
They landed in Leyolo City shortly after noon and parted ways. A prearranged car and driver were waiting to take Shae directly to the Weather Man’s branch office. Wen waited for their luggage, which Tako carried out to the parking lot behind her while Dudo inspected every inch of the rented black SUV. Satisfied with its safety, Wen’s bodyguards drove her to the Oasis Sulliya, which was not a typical downtown hotel, but a resort slightly south of the city, close to the Redwater area that was the heart of the Shotarian film industry.
Wen checked into her room, changed, ordered a light lunch from the room service menu, and called her husband to let him know she’d arrived. “Leyolo City looks as glamorous as it does in the movies,” she told him, reaching him in his study between meetings. On the drive through the city, Wen had admired the capital’s steel spires, which ranked among the highest in the world, its elevated superhighways and high-speed trams, the enormous rotating neon billboards that burned with light even in the middle of the day. So much of Leyolo City had been destroyed in the Many Nations War fifty years ago that when it was rebuilt, it had burst from the ashes like a phoenix. “It’s colder than I expected, though, for springtime.”
“Don’t spend too much money, unless you’re buying a company,” Hilo teased.
“And what if I am?” Wen asked, unable to resist prodding him.
“I’ll assume Shae put you up to it. The two of you are a bad influence on each other,” he said, in a good-natured way that made light of the past, but was still a stern reminder. No secrets. “I have to go,” he said. “Have a good time. I love you.”
In the afternoon, Wen’s bodyguards drove her to the headquarters of Diamond Light Motion Pictures. A translator, vetted and hired by the Weather Man’s office, was waiting for them and accompanied Wen as she was received at the reception desk and shown into a massive corner office. Standing behind the desk was a man wearing tinted, wire-rimmed glasses, a soul patch beard, and an expensive blue shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his thick forearms. He was probably only forty, but bald as an egg. Wen couldn’t understand the rapid Shotarian he was shouting into a headset, but he was either very excited or verbally tearing apart the person on the other end of the line. Hanging up the call, he tossed his headset down and looked over at Wen.
“Pas Guttano,” said Wen, using the respectful honorific and speaking the few formal words she’d carefully rehearsed in Shotarian. “It’s my privilege to meet you.” She pressed her hands together and touched them to her heart.
Guttano returned the gesture of greeting, though his expression turned guarded. He gave Wen a tight smile as he offered her a seat. “You must be Mrs. Kaul.”
Wen sat down in the comfortable armchair in front of the studio executive’s wide desk. The translator, a prim young woman with long, thin hands, perched alertly in a seat next to her. Dudo and Tako stood against the wall by the office door. Both Green Bones were wearing their jade concealed, but Guttano studied them with faint unease before turning back to Wen. “I know who you are,” he told her, “but I can’t think of any reason I should be visited by representatives of a Green Bone clan. Diamond Light doesn’t have any projects currently filming in Kekon.”
The translator repeated Guttano’s words back to Wen in Kekonese. Wen said, “I’m here on behalf of the No Peak clan to ask you for a favor. It’s not a small request, and because we don’t know each other, I felt it was important that I come to Leyolo City to discuss it with you in person.” She waited for the translator to catch up. “The No Peak clan is a major investor in Cinema Shore, a Kekonese film studio that’s not very significant in terms of the global movie industry, but is the largest production company we have on our island. It’s enjoyed some recent commercial success, most notably a series of action movies starring Danny Sinjo.”
“The Fast Fists,” Guttano said enthusiastically, sitting forward and losing some of his initial reticence. “I’ve seen all three of them! Great entertainment. Second one’s still the best, but I like what they did with Danny’s character in the third one.”
“I’m partial to the first movie myself,” Wen said with a smile. “The Fast Fists series was domestically successful, with steady home video sales in Kekon and abroad. But they were made on a tight budget for the Kekonese audience. Cinema Shore’s next project is more ambitious. It’s a joint venture with a major Espenian studio, a big-budget action movie, the first Kekonese film poised to do well on both sides of the Amaric. But in order for the project to go ahead, it needs Danny Sinjo.”
Guttano was shaking his head before the translator even finished relaying Wen’s sentence. “I’m sorry, I’ve already spoken to Danny’s agent two or three times about this. Danny Sinjo is under a multiyear contract with Diamond Light, and it’s simply not possible for us to release him from that obligation. I know Sian Kugo from Cinema Shore and I like him, but he’ll have to find someone else for his project.”
“Danny Sinjo is the only Kekonese movie star with the international recognition to carry this film and the only major actor with the Green Bone training to pull off the stunts. The entire script was written with him in mind as the lead.”
Guttano opened his hands regretfully. “Then they’ll have to rewrite the script. Diamond Light has a filming schedule that’s depending on Sinjo as well.”
Wen folded her hands over her knee and gave the Shotarian studio executive her most calmly persuasive smile. “I completely understand that it’s not in your interest to release Sinjo from his contract. I’m here to make it in your interest to do so. Whatever you’ve discussed with Sinjo’s agent, set it aside. No Peak will pay twenty million sepas to Diamond Light to release Danny Sinjo from legal obligations to your studio. I understand that is three times what you were planning to pay him to play the underboss in the next Streets of Blood movie, which has not yet begun filming. Even accounting for the cost of potential delays and the trouble of finding a new actor to play the villain, you have to admit that is a generous reimbursement for your loss.”
Guttano had begun to look supremely uncomfortable. He swiveled back and forth in his chair and crossed his arms, still shaking his head. “I’m afraid that’s simply not possible,” he insisted again.
Wen felt annoyance rising steadily within her, but she kept speaking in the same convincing tone. She thought of the casual yet intimidating persuasiveness Hilo would have in this situation and tried to project some of her husband’s energy into her words. “Before you refuse so hastily, consider that my family would remember this favor. My husband is a powerful man in Kekon and our clan has strength in many other parts of the world as well. I don’t know how familiar you are with Kekonese culture, but we take friendship very seriously. Suppose you were to need the support of an influential ally at some point in the future—and who doesn’t, especially a man in your position? Think about how much more valuable that would be to you than the casting of a supporting actor in this one movie.”
“Mrs. Kaul, I’m afraid you don’t understand.” Guttano began to move some items around on his desk in agitation, not looking directly at her, but glancing at the translator and Wen’s two bodyguards, anywhere except straight at her. “It’s not that I’m trying to antagonize you or your husband. If it were entirely up to me, I’d be inclined to negotiate with you. But it’s not the money that’s the issue. Danny Sinjo made an agreement with Diamond Light before this other film was greenlit. He can’t leave Streets of Blood to go work for the Kekonese, on a project funded by a Green Bone clan. That would… look very bad. It would be unacceptable, embarrassing to certain stakeholders of the studio.”
Wen was nearly fed up with the man’s evasiveness. She let a little of the friendliness slide out of her voice and a strong hint of disappointment creep in. “I was under the impression that you were the final authority on these matters, Pas Guttano. If I was misinformed, if there’s someone else in Diamond Light I should be speaking to, please let me know, and I’ll have this discussion with them instead.”
Guttano pushed his chair back as if to create space between them. “As I’ve said, the money isn’t the main issue. The friendship of the No Peak clan might be valuable in your home country, but it would make enemies in Shotar.” Instead of looking at Wen, he looked at the translator and spoke a phrase in Shotarian.
The young woman hesitated. Wen was surprised. Up until this moment, the translation had been fast and flawless. Wen said, “What did he say?”
The translator said, nervously, “My apologies, Mrs. Kaul, I’m not sure how to translate the meaning into Kekonese. In Shotarian, the words are, ‘Marry the devil, get the devil’s mother.’ It means… It’s a saying that’s used to describe an agreement or relationship that you can’t escape from.”
Wen sat with this information. “You’re saying he’s already married the devil.”
“I think that is what he is trying to say, yes.”
Wen finally understood Guttano’s obstinance. She’d heard that the enormously profitable Shotarian film industry was rife with organized crime involvement. Barukan gangs controlled several labor unions, bankrolled films, and demanded to be consulted on the glorified portrayal of Keko-Shotarian gangsters in pop culture, even going so far as to dictate casting choices. Guttano and Diamond Light Motion Pictures must have ties to people they were unwilling to antagonize.
She couldn’t get around this obstacle with money or charm, not if one of the barukan gangs had a hold on Diamond Light. She would have to go to Shae, think about what could be done.
Wen smoothed her skirt and stood up, keeping her face neutral despite how crestfallen she was. “I’m disappointed that we couldn’t come to an understanding,” she said to Guttano. “Now I’ll have to return to Janloon and disappoint my husband as well. That’s not something I want to do. He’s not a man who’s accustomed to being told no, so I don’t know how he’ll react.”
Wen knew exactly how Hilo would react. He would shrug and say it was too bad, but that it didn’t really matter—Cinema Shore had already handsomely returned the investment she had convinced him and Shae to put into it, and the movie business was just a little piece of No Peak’s vast portfolio of tributaries. He would console her by wrapping his arms around her and saying, that was business, not everything went your way, but had she at least had a nice time in Leyolo City?
The Pillar would not send Fists to Shotar to force Guttano to comply, to kill him, or destroy Diamond Light, especially not if such a drastic reaction jeopardized the Weather Man’s expansion plans. Any good Green Bone leader knew the power of violence and used it without hesitation when called for, but it was a potent tool, not to be flung about carelessly over something like a movie star’s contract.
Guttano, however, did not know this. Shotarians stereotyped the Kekonese as vicious and lawless, and jade, some of them believed, was a corrupting substance that drained a portion of a person’s soul every time they used it. Wen saw fear flicker behind the studio executive’s tinted glasses. All he knew about Kaul Hiloshudon was his reputation as a man with a great deal of jade and a greater capacity for bloodshed. That was something Wen could use to her advantage.
Genially, she said, “Think about it some more. I’ll be here in Leyolo City for a couple more days. You can reach me at the Oasis Sulliya resort if you decide you gave your answer too hastily.”
Wen turned away. Dudo and Tako moved silently to open the office door. She left the Diamond Light building unhappy, but she hoped her words would sit with Guttano and the apprehension she’d left him with would motivate him to reconsider.
Shae sighed and kicked off her shoes in the back seat of the SUV as Wen’s bodyguards drove them back to the hotel late that evening. “You should come on business trips with me more often,” she sighed to Wen. “We could make a habit out of this.” After an excellent meal of oshoys—small plates served alongside poetry—and a production of The Lady’s Scarf, a romantic musical Shae had first seen in Espenia as a university student and which was still enjoyable decades later even in Shotarian, she was feeling uncommonly relaxed, clan worries pleasantly pushed from her mind. She doubted she would’ve been so self-indulgent on her own.
“It’s nice to spend time without the men or the children around, isn’t it?” Wen agreed. She seemed preoccupied, though, and the smile slid from her face as she picked at a bit of chipped nail polish. “Shae-jen,” she said after another moment, “is there anything we can do about the Diamond Light situation? Can we find out who’s standing in our way, who Guttano is afraid of?”
Shae rubbed the balls of her feet. “I can try,” she answered ambivalently. It would be easy to find out the information Wen wanted; that was not the problem. “I know this film deal is important to you,” she said, “but we don’t want to show No Peak’s hand in Shotar too strongly.” The Weather Man’s branch office in Shotar was small and Shae was being careful to keep it unobtrusive, but the Mountain was surely aware that No Peak was in Leyolo City, and it would be looking for any misstep. Trying to muscle in on the barukan over the film industry seemed risky, even if Shae agreed with her sister-in-law that they shouldn’t underestimate the power of popular culture and entertainment when it came to growing the clan’s influence. Applications to martial academies and requests for clan patronage went up every time one of the Fast Fists movies came out.
