The Red Pole of Macau

( 5 )

She slept badly, a dream she couldn’t get away from waking her and then grabbing her again the moment she closed her eyes. She was with Uncle in some Chinese city that was all dust, smoke, and exhaust fumes, and they were being chased down, running for their lives. He was moving slowly, limping when he wasn’t hopping on one leg. She felt the urge to run and had to hold back, though her energy was bursting. He kept telling her to leave, that he’d make it on his own. Every time she was at that point she’d wake, get up to pee and drink a glass of water, and then crawl back into bed hoping that the dream was over, only to have it return. Same city, different location, more thugs.

Dreams were common for her, but not dreams about Uncle. Usually it was her father who dominated her nighttime subconscious, in a recurring dream that had her desperately trying to connect with him and never succeeding. She wondered if keeping her presence in Hong Kong a secret had triggered Uncle’s intrusion into her sleep.

At seven she finally gave up and hauled herself out of bed. It was already light outside, the sun glinting through a light layer of clouds. She knew Victoria Park would be a zoo, but she needed to clear her head. She put on her running gear, stuck money for the MTR into her pocket, and headed downstairs.

The park was awful, both the inner and outer tracks so crowded that she could barely walk at a brisk pace, let alone run. So she gave in and walked around the park’s perimeter, taking in the multitude of tai chi practitioners, the old men with their birdcages, the badminton players, and at the southern end a throng who had come to exercise to the music of ABBA under the direction of one male and one female instructor, who loomed above them on a stage.

It was just past nine when she left the park and walked back to the MTR station. Hong Kong rush hour was in full bloom and an unbroken stream of people jostled on the station stairs in both directions. Ava knew what it would be like on the train, and the idea of being hemmed in so tightly that she wouldn’t be able to move her arms held no appeal for her. She figured it would take her about thirty minutes to run back to the hotel, and without further thought she headed down Gloucester Road.

Before the Mandarin Oriental became her hotel of choice, she had often stayed at the Grand Hyatt, near the old Star Ferry terminal. It was only a ten-minute jaunt from there to the park, and the route took her along Causeway Bay, past the Hong Kong Yacht Club, the noon cannon, and the typhoon shelter, which was perpetually filled with sampans that in turn were filled with floating families. She retraced those steps, enjoying the morning air.

When she got back to the hotel, she took a shower and got dressed for business. She turned on her cellphone and listened to messages from Uncle and her father. Uncle wanted her to phone him. Her father was concerned about how things were going.

She swore quietly as she closed the phone. She didn’t want to talk to Uncle just yet. She wanted to get the meeting behind her. Besides, she knew that if she did phone him the fact that she was in Hong Kong would emerge. She just couldn’t lie to him and found it almost impossible to say no to him. When she told this to Derek one time, he had just smiled and said she had the same effect on him.

She thought about calling her father before going to meet Michael, and then pushed the idea aside. She had nothing to tell him. She turned on her computer to take a quick look at where the meeting was scheduled, the City of Dreams. Five minutes later she was still reading, and her reluctance to go to Macau had almost vanished.

The first thing that had caught her attention were the names Ho and Packer, except the names were Lawrence Ho, not Stanley, and James Packer, not Kerry. James was the son of the late Australian tycoon; he was in his early forties and already ranked as one of the wealthiest men in Australia. Lawrence was still in his early thirties — one of Stanley Ho’s seventeen children from various wives — and had enough money, or access to it, to partner with Packer on the City of Dreams development. Ava knew of Ho through friends in Toronto. A Canadian citizen, he had been partly raised in the city and attended the University of Toronto. He had returned to Hong Kong to pursue his business interests but still came to Canada on a regular basis.

The development had opened in 2009 and was the largest in Macau. There were four soaring towers sheathed in steel and glass, one home to a Hard Rock Hotel, one to a Crown Towers Hotel, and two towers for the Grand Hyatt, all of them connected to a central podium about three storeys high that looked like a massive glimmering flying saucer. The numbers associated with the complex were impressive: more than 2,200 hotel rooms, more than 200 stores, and, at 420,000 square feet, more than double the gaming space of the MGM Grand, the largest casino in Las Vegas.

This sure isn’t the Macau I remember, Ava thought as she closed her computer and packed her notebook into her bag. She headed downstairs to meet Michael.

He was already in the hotel lobby, talking on his cellphone. He waved her over. He seemed as nervous as he had been the day before, and that worried her. Looking unsure wasn’t a good negotiating tactic.

“We’ll take a taxi to the Macau jetfoil terminal,” he said, closing the phone. “Parking is brutal around there.”

“Where’s Simon?”

“Waiting for us at the terminal. He’s already bought our tickets.”

It was only a five-minute cab ride, but they had to wait in line at the terminal for another five minutes before they could disembark. Simon was at the gate, briefcase in hand, dressed in a blue pinstripe suit, white shirt, and red Hermès tie. Except for the blond hair he actually looked like a conservative businessman. Michael looked dashing in a pair of grey slacks with a blue blazer, white shirt, and light blue Gucci tie. Ava wasn’t accustomed to travelling in such well-dressed company, and said so.

Simon stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. He had evidently forgotten about his rudeness the night before, or else didn’t want to acknowledge it. “You look good,” he said. “Maybe that’ll distract them.”

She wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic. “Thanks, and I can promise it won’t,” she said.

He had bought them three seats in first class, which was almost empty. Most of the hydrofoil was filled with gamblers making a day trip to Macau. And gamblers don’t spend money on unnecessary frills, Ava thought.

Once they had sat down, Simon pulled some papers from his briefcase. “You’ve seen the contract?” he asked.

“Yes, we went over it in detail yesterday,” she said.

“And what do you think?”

“You seem to be within your rights to request the money back.”

“But . . . ?”

She could sense he was ready to argue with her. “But nothing. You seem to be within your rights.”

“How do you want to handle the meeting?” Michael asked.

“It’s your meeting, not mine,” she said. “I’d prefer to be an observer until we see what it is they really want and can figure out what is actually going on. Who normally talks to them?”

“Initially we communicated through David Chi. It wasn’t until we saw the site that we actually met them, and then, as I said, we had one more meeting after that to sign the agreement. For the first six months or so we kept routing messages through David, but then he began to distance himself. Simon and I have both had a few phone conversations with Wu — progress reports, or, more accurately, non-progress reports. And then, of course, David disappeared entirely. So it’s been basically me and Wu on the phone. This will be our first face-to-face since we signed.”

“Is Kao Lok going to be there?”

“So I was told.”

The sea was choppy, the jetfoil bouncing up and down as it roared over sixty-five kilometres of water towards Macau. She’d never been in one that didn’t bounce — it was only a matter of degree, and on this day the degree was severe. Ava was thankful it was only a one-hour trip.

“Only one of you should speak,” she said. “It’s important that there be only one voice. My experience is that if both of you try to talk, there could be contradictions, however unintentional or slight, and you don’t want to give them any opening to create confusion or doubt. So, one voice.”

“Simon, do you want to do it?” Michael asked.

He shook his head. “No, you.”

Michael looked uncertain. Ava hoped he was a better actor when the lights came on. She said, “Now, when you’re speaking to them, speak directly to Kao Lok. It is his business, and this is your business. Treat him as your equal. Even if Wu asks questions, direct your comments to Kao.”

“Wu has done all the talking so far.”

“That doesn’t matter. You talk to Kao.”

“Okay. How do you want me to approach things?”

“Above all, we really need to understand what’s gone wrong here. Why hasn’t the project proceeded? What happened to the other investors? What are the chances of bringing more people on board? Are they agreeable to the idea of our bringing others in? Keep asking questions.”

“I’ve been trying to do that on the phone, Ava, and all Wu ever says is that if we want the mall to be built then we have to put up the money they say we committed to.”

“So ask Kao. Maybe he’ll be more receptive to an actual conversation.”

“And if he’s not?”

“Then we move on to Plan B, which is to say that we could be prepared to put in more money in exchange for a bigger share of the deal, and specifically an interest in the actual land.”

“And if they’re not interested?”

Then you’re involved with idiots, she thought. “If we get to that point you need to make it clear that your bank is the one calling the shots, and that it is their demand, not yours.”

“That’s not completely untrue,” Michael said.

“Tell them that they haven’t lived up to the terms of the contract — through no fault of theirs, you’re sure — and even though you hate to walk away from such a promising investment, your bank isn’t leaving you any option. You need the deal restructured, with some hard guarantees built in, or you need your money back. I’d say that you’ve already breached several covenants and that the bank is going to recall the loan unless they see significant progress. Make the bank the bad guy as much as you can.”

“Simon, what do you think about this approach?” Michael said. His partner seemed distracted, his attention on the view through the window. His hand kept reaching for his head, rubbing the blond stubble. Then, almost violently, he separated his fingers and pulled them from the back of his head to the front, as if he were trying to plow furrows. “That f*cking David Chi,” he said.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Are you going to be okay for the meeting?”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about since last night. Yeah, I’ll be okay, unless Chi is there. If he is, I’m not sure I can restrain myself.”

Ava threw a worried glance at Michael. He simply said, “Chi won’t be there.”

Simon grunted. “I don’t think they care about whatever problems we have, or might have, with our bank.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ava said. “You need to create the impression that they’ll have to deal with your bank if you can’t get your money back. Not many businessmen want a bank up their ass. Banks have more money and all the time in the world, and they’re completely cold-blooded.”

“What if they don’t buy it?”

“Spin it anyway, and then leave all your options open-ended. Don’t threaten them. And for God’s sake, don’t mention the word lawyer.”

“Just where do you think this will leave us?” Simon asked.

Ava hadn’t been sure he was listening. “We aren’t going to resolve anything today, so don’t go into the meeting expecting that will happen. As I said, what we need to do is find out as much as we can about the status of the project and what it is they really want.”

“So we can do what?”

“Figure out an exit strategy.”

“Compromise?” Simon said, making it sound like a dirty word.

Ava said, “Well, it may come down to that. I mean, you can’t just keep saying ‘Give us our money back’ and have them answering no and asking for more. Sooner or later there has to be some kind of negotiation, there has to be a middle ground somewhere. The only other option you have is to go legal, and depending on how determined they are, that could take years and cost you tons of money, and many more sleepless nights, with no guarantee at the end that you’ll win.”

Simon looked angry. Ava didn’t know if it was with her, his partner, or the situation. She waited for him to speak. Instead he turned his head and looked out at the sea again.

The jetfoil arrived on time at twelve thirty, and by twelve forty-five they had cleared Macau Customs and Immigration and were in a cab headed for the City of Dreams, about ten kilometres away. The driver avoided the old city, taking the Friendship Bridge to the northern edge of Taipa and then looping southeast past rows of small hotels and shops. When he made a right turn onto the Cotai Strip, Ava gasped. Skyscrapers flanked both sides of the street, filling seemingly every inch of land.

“This is like the strip in Las Vegas,” she said.

“On a lot less land,” Michael said.

They drove up the Strip past the Fairmont Raffles, the Hilton Conrad, the Sheraton, and the Shangri-La to their right. Across the street from the Shangri-La was a Four Seasons, and directly next to it was the Venetian Macau, an exact replica of the Venetian in Vegas. Ava had never seen such a concentration of luxury hotels, and that was before they got to the City of Dreams, at the very end of the Strip, its four towers and silver pod the climax.

“My God, I never imagined anything of this magnitude. So many five-star hotels,” she said.

“They just keep building them bigger and better,” Michael said. “The Crown Towers is supposed to be six stars.”

“And someone will build one with seven stars,” Simon said.

“Where is your lot?” she asked.

“Right there,” Michael said, pointing to a long, narrow finger of sand adjacent to the Venetian.

She imagined the foot traffic all those hotels were generating. “What a great location.”

“That’s why we put up the money,” he said.

“What kind of business are the hotel restaurants and shops doing?”

“We hear the casinos are doing great, but as for the rest of it —”

“I hear that the City of Dreams hotels, and a lot of the others around here, are running at about seventy percent capacity, and that’s if you count the complimentary stays,” Simon said. “In that pod there’s every designer store you can name and more than twenty restaurants, including some of the best in Asia, but I’m told they’re hard pressed to do enough business to pay their rent.”

“Then why build something so huge, so luxurious?” Ava said.

“You’d have to ask Lawrence Ho and James Packer,” Michael said.

“They must have done a lot of market research,” she said.

“I don’t know who they hired to do that, but whoever it was didn’t understand the customer base,” Simon said. “This isn’t Vegas, where people stay for a week. Ninety-nine percent of the gamblers here are Chinese who’ve walked across the border or taken a day bus or the jetfoil from Hong Kong. The average stay in Macau is a day and a half. Those people don’t need hotel rooms. Shit, they’ll stay awake for thirty-six hours or sleep on the bus instead of wasting good gambling money on a room or some upscale dining experience.”

“And your shopping centre?”

“It was down and dirty. Give them something cheap to buy, give them lots of basic, affordable food options. At least that was the plan.”

“That’s still the plan until someone tells us otherwise,” she said.

They pulled up in front of the Boulevard shopping complex. Ava looked past it on either side. The entire sky seemed filled with glass and steel. It would take a full day just to walk through these places, she thought.

The Treasure Palace restaurant was on the first level of the Boulevard. As they walked to it, Ava looked around. Simon hadn’t been wrong about the dearth of customers.

The restaurant wasn’t that busy — maybe thirty or forty diners. They stood in the doorway, Michael scanning the room. “There they are, at the back,” he said.

There were two of them. Ava had expected them to stand as they neared, but they stayed seated, staring silently at them. She was about ten metres away when she noticed that one of them was looking directly at her chest. She had large breasts for a Chinese woman and her shirt was a bit snug, but she couldn’t remember the last time she had been so blatantly ogled. As they drew close, the ogler turned and whispered to his companion, who smiled, showing teeth that angled in several directions.

Ava realized she knew him. She’d been with Uncle in a Kowloon restaurant and the man had come to the table to pay his respects. Other than the teeth, which were remarkable, he was nondescript: medium height, slight build, a thin, wormy moustache, black hair cropped close to his skull. He hadn’t changed much in five years. Maybe a little heavier, no eyeglasses, but still the same teeth and still the same affection for Burberry tartan shirts. She remembered that his name was Lok.

She extended her hand when they reached the table. Kao Lok came halfway out of his seat and reached for her hand, barely touching it. She searched his eyes for recognition but they were blank. “I’m Lok. This is Wu,” he said, pointing to the other man.

Wu didn’t budge, his gaze still fixed on her chest. Bad manners and a pig as well, she thought.

The Hong Kong group sat and Lok poured tea for them. Ava thanked him with a gentle tap of her middle finger on the table. He gave an awkward smile. “I wasn’t very happy when I found out you were bringing a financial adviser, but now that I’ve met her I’m pleased you did. Maybe when she’s finished with you, she can give me advice,” he said.

Simon and Michael both looked uncomfortable. Ava knew it was only going to get worse. You stupid sons of bitches, she thought.

“Did you bring our cheque?” Wu asked.

“Did you bring ours?” Simon shot back.

Wu bristled. Ava looked at him. He was a short, compact, ugly man with thick arms, a big chest, and a small nose that turned up so much the nostrils stared straight ahead. He had a large black mole on his cheek with long, curly black hairs springing from it. The hairs were supposed to be good luck.

There goes Plan A, Ava thought when she noticed two men standing against a wall about ten metres from their table. They were watching them — looking bored, but watching them all the same. This really isn’t going to go well, she decided.

“You made a promise and we’re holding you to it,” Wu said.

Michael struggled to interrupt, to start the meeting on a more even keel, but he had barely got the first sentence out of his mouth before Simon spoke over him. “That’s bullshit.”

“You told David Chi that you were committed, and that if more money was needed you’d find it.”

“We were in a f*cking karaoke bar, half-drunk, having a casual conversation about the project, and he said something vague about cost overruns. That was all I was responding to, and all I said was that if it came to that, we’d consider putting up more money. More money on the assumption that the f*cking shopping centre was almost finished. You f*ckers haven’t even dug a hole yet.”

And there goes Plan B, Ava thought, before interrupting. “Gentlemen, could we please just back it up for a moment.”

Wu sat back.

“I apologize for Simon,” Michael said, finally trying to salvage the meeting. “We’re under tremendous stress on our side. Because of the delays in the project — none of which, I’m sure, are deliberate — we’ve breached a number of covenants with our bank, and they’re ready to call in the loan we used to finance our portion. You can imagine how difficult that is.”

“Not our problem,” Wu said.

“It is if the bank decides to try to foreclose on the property, or if it decides to pursue action against all of us.”

“Not our problem.”

Ava waited for Michael to continue. He sat silent. Well, let’s play this out, she thought. “Gentlemen, I’m quite confused about the status of the project. Could you give me an update?” she said.

“One of the investors pulled out. We need more money. There’s no point starting what we can’t finish,” Wu said.

“When I reviewed the contract, I didn’t see any provision that required us to put in additional funds.”

“I told you, he agreed to it,” Wu said, pointing to Simon.

“I did no such f*cking thing,” Simon yelled.

Lok reached into his trousers pocket and Ava flinched, afraid of what he might pull out. It was a piece of paper. “Here is a signed affidavit from David Chi.”

Simon grabbed it and, without reading, tore it to shreds. “He’s a f*cking liar and so are you,” he yelled, throwing the pieces at Lok.

Ava was so focused on the paper she didn’t notice Wu get out of his chair until it was too late. He came around the table, and as he was moving forward he threw a punch at Simon’s head. It caught him on the upper cheek, just below the eye. Simon reeled back and then, almost in slow motion, slid to the floor. Wu stepped in, ready to deliver a kick, but Michael grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back. Wu turned, shook his arm free, and wound up to hit Michael. That was when Ava moved.

The crack could be heard several tables away. Wu’s scream reverberated around the entire restaurant as he held his arm, the break in the ulna so complete that a piece of bone had pierced his skin.

She turned immediately towards Lok as the two men who’d been leaning against the wall headed for them. They wouldn’t use guns in a place this public, she reasoned, but she wouldn’t put it past them to have knives. She was thinking about how to handle them when Lok said, “You work with Uncle Chow, don’t you.”

“I do,” she said, her eyes still locked on the two men advancing on her.

“Wait,” Lok shouted at them.

They stopped no more than two metres away. She saw that familiar mixture of anger and lust she had seen in every man ready to beat, or try to beat, a woman. Half of her wanted them to come at her; the other half knew she was in Macau and that Macau was Lok’s turf.

Lok stood. “I thought I recognized you when you walked in. I wasn’t sure until you did that thing to Wu. You have a reputation: a pretty girl with a nasty temper and a vicious streak.”

“I only do what is necessary to defend myself.”

“And these two, how about them? Could you take them?” he asked, pointing to his men.

“Probably, but I’d rather not make a scene.”

“What would you rather do?”

“Leave quietly with Simon and Michael.”

“Is Uncle involved with those fools?”

“No, this isn’t a part of our business. This is strictly personal on my part.”

“Good. I’d be unhappy if I thought he was representing them.”

Simon had now struggled to his feet, leaning against Michael, who looked as if he was in shock. Wu had his head on the table, and was holding his arm, gently groaning. Ava had to admire his tolerance for pain.

“Can we go?” she asked.

Lok actually thought about it, his face impassive. Ava kept her eyes on the two men. If they took another step towards her, she decided she would have to be proactive. “I don’t want to hear from these two again,” he finally said.

She knew it was pointless to argue. She also knew she couldn’t concede completely. “Let’s go,” she said to Simon and Michael. “We need to leave.”

Neither of them seemed to understand. Ava moved to Michael’s side and looped her arm through his. “Let’s walk,” she said, giving him a tug.

She hadn’t noticed anyone in the restaurant except for Wu, Lok, and his men. Now she felt every eye on them as they made their slow exit, the boys like beaten dogs, Ava’s head held high, her walk measured, her chest thrust out, senses alert to anything that might be coming behind her.

She took them to a coffee shop near the Boulevard entrance, sat them down, and went to buy three bottles of water. By the time she returned their shock seemed to be ebbing, only to be replaced by the growing, sickening, and inevitable realization that their money was probably gone, and along with it their business and whatever personal wealth they had.

“Hell of a meeting, but not much of a lunch,” Ava said as she sat.

“I don’t know what to say,” Michael mumbled.

“We’re f*cked,” Simon said, touching his cheek, which was already discoloured.

Michael drained his bottle of water in four gulps. It seemed to refresh him. “You shouldn’t have opened your mouth,” he yelled at his partner. “We had a plan. We needed to follow it.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Ava said sharply. “That meeting was going to end badly no matter what you did. Simon just sped things up.”

“Thanks,” Simon said.

“For nothing. The two of you are idiots.”

Simon shrugged. “Who are they, Ava? You say you know Lok. How?”

“They’re probably triad,” she said.

“Holy f*ck,” Simon said. Michael closed his eyes.

“You certainly knew how to choose partners for your biggest joint venture.”

“You said ‘probably,’” said Simon.

“I need to confirm it. One phone call will do it.”

“And this Uncle, who is he?”

“My boss — my partner in business, actually. And don’t ask me if he’s triad because I’ve never talked about it with him. And in case you’re wondering, I am not triad.”

Simon said, “Michael told me you had good connections. He wasn’t kidding.”

“They’re obviously not that good or we wouldn’t be out here drinking water.”

“No, but we’re not flat on our backs in the restaurant getting the crap beaten out of us either.”

Ava smiled. She was beginning to warm to Simon. He had shown some nerve, he had a sense of humour, and he was holding up to the adversity better than Michael, who looked lost in whatever dark thoughts were filling his head. “I wouldn’t have let them do that,” she said.

“No, I guess not,” Simon said. “Where did you learn that shit? I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.”

“I’ve been training for years. Anyone can do it.”

Simon sipped from the bottle, his mood faltering again. “For years all we’ve done is build a business, and now look.”

“What are we going to do?” Michael said suddenly, as if he had just woken from a dream.

“Go back to Hong Kong,” Ava said.

“And do what?”

“I don’t know exactly. I’ll make my phone call and then we’ll figure out if there’s anything we actually can do.”

“There has to be,” Michael said.

“No, that isn’t always true,” Ava said. She didn’t care when Michael looked pained at her reply. She wasn’t in the business of false hopes and, brother or not, she wasn’t about to start supporting pipe dreams.