Finale, p.5
Finale, page 5
When Parker was gone, Uncle took out his cell phone. Patients were asked not to use their phones except in cases of family emergency. In Uncle’s mind, not going to Happy Valley qualified as one.
“Uncle, great to hear from you,” his friend Fong answered.
Unlike Uncle, Fong hadn’t retired from the triad life — partially because his gambling hobby kept him in need of regular pay. Among other things, he helped supervise the operation of the Fanling gang’s betting shops.
“I need your help with something,” said Uncle.
“Name it,” Fong replied without hesitation.
“I would like you to open an account in my name at the betting shop in Dong’s Kitchen.”
There was a longer pause than Uncle had expected, and then Fong said, “Of course. How much credit do you want?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“No problem. But, Uncle, if I can ask, why do you need an account at Dong’s?”
“I want to bet on the races at Happy Valley tonight.”
Fong went quiet, and Uncle imagined what questions were running through his head.
“I have a stomach bug that hits without warning. Doctor Cho has prescribed medicine for it, but he tells me it will take about twenty-four hours to kick in. I don’t want to risk embarrassing myself in public, so I’m going to watch the races from home tonight.”
“It must be serious if you’re going to miss a night at Happy Valley.”
“It is.”
“Well, get better, Uncle. I’m not used to you being under the weather,” said Fong. “And I’ll let Dong’s know you’ll be calling in your bets.”
“Thanks, Fong,” Uncle said, ending the conversation.
Of all the people still in his life, no one had known him longer — or knew him better — than Fong. As young triads, Fong, Uncle, and their friend Xu had supported each other without question. Xu’s move to Shanghai to set up his own gang had removed him from their immediate orbit, though the trust and affection among them never weakened. That left Fong as Uncle’s closest advisor, and there was rarely a day when the two men didn’t talk.
If these treatments don’t work, Uncle thought, Fong will be the first person I confide in. There were things he would need done that he didn’t want to ask of Ava or Sonny — things that were rooted in his past, things that Fong understood. None was more important than Lin Gui-San. If he died — when he died — provisions would have to be made, and Uncle knew he could trust Fong to carry out his wishes. The same was true of Ava and Sonny, of course, but asking them would require answering questions about a part of his life that he had always kept secret. Fong knew of Lin Gui-San and how she had died. But he didn’t yet know about the niche in the Ancestor Worship Hall on Fo Look Hill in Yuen Long that contained her urn. When the time was right, Uncle decided, Fong would have to be told.
In the meantime, Uncle thought, life can go on, and there are races at Happy Valley that need to be handicapped.
At four-thirty Uncle left the hospital and headed directly to his apartment. His stomach was still behaving well but fatigue had set in, and his thought processes were decidedly slower. When he got home, he wanted to nap, and he wanted to eat. The question was in which order?
He ate first — a bowl of plain steamed rice accompanied by a glass of water. There were no immediate after-effects, and he felt comfortably full when he lay on the bed. Within minutes he was asleep, and if Lourdes hadn’t knocked on his door as arranged at six-thirty, he thought he could have slept the night away.
Post time for the first race was seven-fifteen. Sitting in his chair with the racing form in his lap and the phone by his side, Uncle reviewed his selections and then called Dong’s. To his surprise, Fong answered.
“What are you doing taking calls?” Uncle asked.
“I work at the shops now and then. It keeps me in touch,” Fong said. “Besides, I couldn’t abide the thought of you calling here and running into a problem. So I decided to make sure there weren’t any. Now, who are you betting on in the first race?”
Three hours later, Uncle said good night to his friend. When he was at Happy Valley, he usually left after placing his bet on the last race, to avoid the crush of the mass exodus. Sitting at home, there wasn’t really a reason not to watch it, but even though he was a practical man, Uncle had several ingrained superstitions when it came to horse racing. Leaving before the last race was one of them. Did it still apply if he wasn’t at Happy Valley? He was up fifteen thousand for the evening and had bet it all on the final race. Why take the chance you’ll turn your luck bad, he thought, as he slid from his chair and turned off the television.
( 7 )
Uncle woke at six-thirty after a fitful night’s sleep. He lay quietly for a few minutes as he tried to reconcile a body that felt lethargic with a mind that was rapidly turning over. The mind finally prevailed, and he rose from bed. He went into the living room, checked for messages, and finding none he went into the bathroom to prepare to meet Ava for breakfast. If her flight was on time, it would have landed at six-thirty, but after the taxi to the terminal, debarkation, and a long walk to customs, he figured it would be at least seven-thirty by the time she met Sonny. It was a thirty-kilometre drive from the airport to Kowloon, and at that time of morning it would take more than half an hour, which meant she would get to Morning Blessings after eight.
By seven, Uncle was sitting fully dressed in his chair waiting for Sonny to call. After any prolonged time apart, he was always filled with a sense of anticipation when he knew he was going to see Ava again. But this was different, because the anticipation was tinged with a nervousness that he couldn’t trust his body. What if his stomach couldn’t handle the congee? Parker had talked about ups and downs in his physical condition, and the last thing he wanted was to have an episode in front of Ava.
By seven-fifteen, Uncle was getting impatient and phoned Sonny’s mobile.
“Good morning, boss,” Sonny answered.
“Did her plane arrive on time?”
“It was ten minutes late.”
“That’s not bad. With any luck you’ll get her to Morning Blessings around eight-fifteen. I’m going to head over there now. I’ll read my papers until she arrives.”
“Do you want her to call you from the car?”
“No, I’d rather welcome her in person,” said Uncle and then hung up.
If he felt strong enough, he could extend his walk, and if he didn’t, he would just take his time. The newsagent nodded as Uncle approached, and as usual held out the day’s Sing Tao and Oriental Daily News. Uncle paid for them, and rather than tucking them under his arm, he opened the Daily News and turned to the racing results. His horse had won the last race at odds of three to one, which meant he had turned a profit of HK$60,000 for the night.
Uncle continued his walk to Morning Blessings at a leisurely pace, greeted the owner, Suki, when he got there, and took a seat in his usual booth. “I’m having company this morning,” he said to her. “Ava is going to be joining me.”
“It will be nice to see her again. She’s such a lovely girl,” said Suki.
“Did I ever tell you that we formed our partnership while eating here?”
“No, but I’m really pleased to hear that,” she said with a broad grin. “I assume you’ll wait for her to arrive before you order.”
“Yes, I’ll wait.”
Uncle opened the Daily News to the racing pages, and then worked his way backwards to the front page. He had started to do the same with Sing Tao when he heard Suki say loudly, “Leng lui, it is so good to see you.”
Uncle looked up from his paper and saw Suki leading Ava to his table. Leng lui meant “pretty one,” a description that fitted Ava perfectly.
He stood up and reached for her. “As beautiful as ever, my girl, as beautiful as ever.”
She kissed him on the forehead. “I’m so happy to see you, Uncle.”
“You do not mind us eating here?”
“Of course not. You know I love congee.”
Suki hovered, waiting for them to sit. As soon as they had, she asked, “Can I take your orders now?”
“I’m going to have plain congee with a glass of water,” Uncle said.
Ava glanced at him. “No sausage, pickled vegetables, or salted eggs?”
He shrugged. “My doctor tells me I should be more careful about what I eat. He preaches moderation in all things.”
Ava smiled at Suki. “I’m glad my doctor isn’t so fussy. I’ll have sausage, chopped spring onion, and of course youtiao with mine. I’ll also have black coffee.”
Uncle waited for Suki to leave before saying, “I was just telling Suki about our first breakfast here.”
“When you shocked me by asking me to become your partner?”
He laughed. “You didn’t act shocked at the time, and as I remember I had to work very hard to persuade you.”
“I was hesitant because I wasn’t sure I was good enough to be your partner. As reassuring as you were, there was also something intimidating about you. I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”
“That wouldn’t have been possible,” he said. “I’ve always believed in my ability to judge people, and I had decided I wanted you in my life. Not to boast, but look how well it has all worked out. Ten years of partnership and friendship.”
“Yes, Uncle, partnership and a tremendous friendship. The time has gone by so fast; it certainly doesn’t feel like ten years.”
Uncle noted the word tremendous and felt a jolt of joy that he didn’t express, instead replying, “What didn’t go quickly was the break you took after Macau. I missed you, and I have been worrying about you.”
“I’m sorry if I dawdled all summer. It took weeks for my leg to begin functioning normally, and by then I was at the cottage and feeling lazy. I’m back at work now, so let’s put those worries aside.”
Uncle looked at her and couldn’t help thinking she looked more fragile and vulnerable than he’d ever seen her. “Are you sure you are ready to dive back in?”
“Yes, but I have to tell you that I’m not so sure that going to Ho Chi Minh City will result in anything positive. This could be a short assignment.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Before I left Toronto, I met with a man named Joey Lac who was a close friend of Lam. He met with Lam before he left for Vietnam, and according to Lac, Lam was visibly distraught. Lac said he was a straight-up person — someone he doesn’t believe is even remotely capable of pulling off a scam like this.”
“It is always the ones we never suspect until it is too late,” Uncle said.
“Still, Lac did seem to know him well,” she said.
“You will find out for yourself soon enough,” said Uncle, as Suki arrived with their food.
Uncle forced himself to eat slowly. But there was nothing satisfying about plain rice porridge. Ava, on the other hand, ate with enthusiasm, repeatedly dipping her youtiao into the congee.
When they had finished and their bowls had been removed, Ava took out a notebook. “What arrangements have you made for me in Vietnam?” she asked.
“You’ll be met at the airport by a man named Tran. He’s a police officer, but will be dressed in civilian clothes. He’s been told to give you whatever help you need.”
“I’m not sure I’ll need a police officer. I’m not anticipating any serious trouble. Lam’s an accountant, not a fighter.”
“Just be cautious. Remember, his brother is a man of substance, and he is going to have powerful friends.”
“I’m not going to do anything rash,” said Ava, and then tore a blank page from her notebook. She wrote something on it and passed the page to Uncle. “Do we have contacts in Indonesia?”
“Some, mainly in Jakarta,” he said, and then pointed at what she’d written. “What is this ‘Bank Linno’?”
“It’s headquartered in Surabaya. I have only that one name attached to it, plus a phone number and an email address. Could you look into it?”
“Is this connected to Lam?”
“Very much so.”
“I know quite a few Indonesian banks, but I’ve never heard of this one.”
“It was big enough to have a branch in Toronto, and that’s where Lam was depositing the money he collected. The strange thing is it shut down shortly after Lam ran into trouble.”
“And you think there is a connection?” Uncle asked.
“I don’t know what to think. That’s why I need to talk to Lam.”
Uncle nodded. One trait he and Ava shared was that they didn’t leap to conclusions. Slow and steady had always been their style; connecting dots until they got to the end. “I will find out what I can about the bank.”
Their conversation dwindled. Uncle thought Ava looked slightly uncomfortable and wondered if he was the cause. Before he could ask, she said, “When we spoke a few days ago, I hope you weren’t offended that May Ling had talked to me about the possibility of joining forces.”
“Why would I be? I can’t go on forever, and partnering with her would be a brilliant move,” he said. “Besides, you owe me nothing.”
“I owe you everything,” Ava said, so sharply that it startled him.
His eyes turned away from the table to look out the window. “Sonny is circling outside. We need to get you to the airport.”
( 8 )
Uncle interrupted his walk back to his apartment with a stop at a park about halfway from Morning Blessings. It was late enough in the morning that most of the tai chi and other exercise activities were finished, so Uncle could relax in relative peace. He lit a cigarette, took two drags, then threw it to the ground and stepped on it.
He sat on a bench for half an hour thinking about Ava. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed her during their months apart. Her visit had lifted his spirits, but the moment she left with Sonny, he had felt a depression come over him. How many more times would he see her? How much more time would they spend together? Their interactions would increase now that they had a job to pursue, but how long would it last?
Uncle pulled the piece of paper she’d given him out of his jacket pocket. His contact in Jakarta was a man named Chung. He was not a triad, but he was a jago — a leader of a local gang with loose affiliations to the brotherhood. Chung and Uncle had always gotten along well, but it had been several years since they’d spoken and Uncle had no idea if Chung was even still alive.
When Uncle first met him, Chung had been using the name Chungkiri, which was an Indonesian variation of his Chinese name. When he reverted back to the Chinese original, Uncle asked what had motivated it. To his surprise, Chung became quite agitated.
“In 1967, when Suharto came to power, he instituted what he called his New Order, which — among other atrocities — targeted the ethnic Chinese. We were only about three percent of the population, but according to that prick we controlled seventy percent of the economy, and he referred to us as ‘economic animals’ and ‘opportunistic aliens,’” Chung said. “Suharto passed a law that limited what we could own in local businesses; he tried to wipe out every vestige of Chinese culture — hell, even celebrating Chinese New Year was forbidden — and he banned Chinese names. We had to take Indonesian names. Some of us adapted our Chinese names to fit the law. Others adopted a completely new identity. But time and politics change, and after Suharto was deposed, the law was rolled back, and I reverted to my real name. Not everyone did. For some it was too much trouble, and there were still fears about repercussions. The law may have been removed, but anti-Chinese prejudices were alive and well.”
Uncle had listened to Chung’s story with great interest, and although it might have been an extreme example of the xenophobia aimed at ethnic Chinese living in other parts of Asia, it wasn’t unusual. Such prejudice also existed — perhaps more subtly but existed all the same — in countries like the Philippines and Thailand, where ethnic Chinese controlled large parts of the economy. In those countries, in particular, it was still common for ethnic Chinese to adopt local names.
He read the information Ava had given him on Bank Linno. If such a bank existed, Chung would know about it. Uncle checked the time. Jakarta was an hour behind Hong Kong, and if Chung was anything like him, he would have been up for several hours already.
Uncle left the park and made his way to his apartment. Lourdes had left a note saying she had gone shopping. He guessed she was actually socializing with some of the local Filipina nannies and housekeepers. Either way, Uncle was pleased to have the apartment to himself. He located his contact book and found Chung’s number. The phone rang five times before he heard a faint voice say something in Indonesian.
“Chung, this is Uncle from Hong Kong.”
“What a surprise,” Chung said. “I know you won’t believe this, but I was just talking about you with some of my friends last week.”
“Not unkindly, I hope.”
“Never. We were just curious what you were up to.”
“I started a debt collection business after I stepped down from my official duties with the brotherhood. I’m still at it. In fact, that’s why I’m calling. I could use your help on a job.”
“What is it I can do for you, Uncle?” asked Chung.
“Have you heard of a Bank Linno?”
“No.”
“I’m told it is headquartered in Surabaya.”
“That is entirely possible. We have many local banks in this country.”
“Could you look into it for me?” asked Uncle.
“Of course. What do you want to know?”
“How large is it? What kind of business does it do? Who owns it? And anything else you might uncover.”
