The Red Pole of Macau

( 6 )

Ava waited until they had landed in Hong Kong and parted ways before she called Uncle. He answered on the second ring, and his brisk wei told her he’d been expecting her call.

“Uncle, it’s Ava.”

“I understand you are in Hong Kong.”

“I am.”

“Is everything all right?”

“As well as can be expected. I imagine you have heard from Kao Lok and that he told you we met.”

“Of course.”

She knew he would have. “I didn’t know it was him. I mean, I recognized him when I saw him, but the name meant nothing to me. I went into the meeting totally unprepared to see him there.”

“He is not very happy, especially about the way you damaged Wu.”

“And I’m not happy either, especially about the way they’re destroying my brother’s business and reputation and putting my family at risk.” She knew she had said a lot that needed explanation, and she didn’t want to do it over the phone. “Uncle, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming to Hong Kong. This was strictly personal, not business. Can we meet to talk?”

“I think we have to.”

“Where should we meet?”

“You know Andy owns a noodle shop near the Kowloon Tong MTR station?”

“Yes, and I know where it is.”

“Meet me there in an hour.”

It was only after she hung up the phone that she felt the stress of the day descend on her. It was a mess. More of a mess than she could have anticipated. And aside from asking Uncle to intervene, she didn’t have a clue about what to do. She rarely felt helpless. There was always a way, always some lever you could pull. Except this time she couldn’t think of a single one except for Uncle. What ate at her was the thought of having to ask him. And what scared the hell out of her was the possibility that he might turn her down. She wasn’t sure she could handle that humiliation.

She showered quickly and changed into her track pants and a black T-shirt, then headed to the Star Ferry.

It was late afternoon and the harbour rush hour was just starting. Normally Ava sat at the rear of the Kowloon-bound ferry so she could look back at the Hong Kong skyline. Today she sat in the middle of the boat, with no interest in anything but the meeting with Uncle.

She caught a taxi in Tsim Sha Tsui and got to Kowloon Tong five minutes early. Uncle’s car was already at the curb, with Sonny, his driver and bodyguard, leaning against it talking to a policeman, who was making every effort to be polite. Sonny wore a black suit and white shirt, but unlike his boss he had a black tie knotted at the neck. He was a large man, bigger than Ava and Uncle combined. Well over six feet, he had a body that looked soft, but his physique was deceiving — he was more agile than any man Ava had ever met, and even more powerful. He also had no fear and, she thought, no conscience.

“Sonny,” she said.

He glanced at her and smiled. “He’s waiting for you,” he said.

The noodle shop was just inside the station, a location that Andy would have to have killed someone to get if his wife’s father hadn’t already secured the space before the station was even built.

Ava walked in and almost ran over little Andy. He was only slightly taller than her and weighed maybe ten pounds more. He was a good man to have by your side, though, and Ava had used him several times, the last time in Las Vegas, when his expertise with a meat cleaver had proven useful. “Hey, boss,” he said.

“Hi, Andy,” she said.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andy’s wife looking at them. Ava smiled at her and waved. The woman put her hands together as a sign of respect. Over the years she had met a lot of wives like Andy’s. There were times when Ava felt she was leading the life they all wanted.

“Where’s Uncle?” she asked.

“In the back, in the kitchen. I put a little table there so you two could talk in private.”

“Did he ask you to do that?”

“Yes.”

He stood when she entered the kitchen. He was wearing his black suit and a white shirt buttoned at the collar. “You are as beautiful as ever,” he said.

“I’m sorry about this,” she said.

He sat. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Not really.”

“We should not offend Andy.”

“Then order for both of us.”

“Steamed snow pea tips? Rice noodles with shrimp and scallops?”

“Perfect.”

Uncle spoke to the cook, who was working five woks at once. The cook nodded without turning around.

“I was surprised when Lok called me,” he began.

“I’m sorry, let me explain,” she said.

It took her ten minutes. Uncle knew her father, knew about his extended family situation. What he didn’t know was that Michael Lee had reached out to her. She went through it as best she could, not exaggerating but making her feelings clear, particularly her fears that her father and mother and her two aunties — one with small children in Australia — whom she didn’t know were somehow going to be swept up in the mess in Macau.

Before she finished, the cook had deposited the snow pea tips and the noodle dish on their table. Uncle picked at the peas, his focus on her. When she finished, he put down his chopsticks. “You should have called me earlier,” he said.

“Uncle, it was family business. I didn’t think it was fair to involve you.” And the moment she said it she wished she could cut off her tongue.

He went silent, the chopsticks working again on the snow peas, picking scallops from their noodle bed. “You know I never married.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“I left Wuhan when I was eighteen. The family I knew died during the Cultural Revolution.”

“I know, Uncle.”

“I have no children that I am aware of.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“During the past few years I have asked you several times to take on jobs that involved friends.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Did you hesitate?”

“No.”

“So why could you not come to me?”

There were tears in her eyes but she fought them back. “I should have.”

“Now I am afraid it is too late.”

Ava turned her attention to the snow pea tips, concentrating on their tiny heads. They ate quietly, the cook working like a madman behind them, Andy poking his head through the door occasionally to make sure they were still there.

When the last of the noodles were gone, Uncle said, “Lok has pulled this stunt a few times. He owns several pieces of land in Macau, on the peninsula in Coloane and on Cotai. He switches ownership among his companies, often starting new ones. He hires an architect to design an apartment building, maybe an office and retail complex — and now, I guess, a shopping centre — then he goes looking for investors, and he always seems to find them. Everyone knows how scarce land is in Macau, and Lok does not normally have a problem finding willing and eager partners. Needless to say, nothing ever gets built. They will put off the investors with excuses for a while, and when they cannot be stalled any longer, the intimidation starts. No one gets their money back. Most are smart enough to know they need to walk away, but more than one has gone to Macau for a final showdown and never come back.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Twenty years, maybe longer. He used to run a string of moneylenders at Ho’s casinos, and then he managed the massage parlours that double as whorehouses for one of the larger societies. He is a Red Pole.”

“What is that?”

“We have been together so long that I forget what I have told you.”

“About the triad?”

“Of course.”

“Not much. All I know is that you were chairman.”

“An honorary position,” Uncle said, waving his hand. “It had no real power.”

Ava turned her head away, not wanting him see the incredulity on her face. “What is a Red Pole?” she muttered.

“The sharp end of a gang’s stick.”

“I still don’t understand.”

Uncle closed his eyes as if he were conjuring memories. “In the days when I was active, every gang was headed by a Mountain Master or a Dragon Head, as we were sometimes called. Each had three people reporting directly to him: a Vanguard, who organized operations; an Incense Master, who was responsible for ceremonies; and a deputy Mountain Master, who actually executed the plans. The deputy Mountain Master in turn had three people under him: the White Paper Fan, who provided financial and business advice; the Straw Sandal, who liaised among the different groups; and the Red Pole. The Red Pole was the enforcer. He was the muscle who ran the troops on the ground — the 49ers, who were the pledged members of the society, and the blue lanterns, who were like apprentices.”

“49ers?”

“Every position had a number derived from the I Ching. The Mountain Master was 489. The Red Pole was 426. The number none of us wanted to hear was 25. It was the designation for a mole that the police or some rival triad gang had planted, or for a traitor to his own gang.”

“So Lok is an enforcer?”

“Yes.”

“How many men report to him?”

“Somewhere between fifteen and twenty.”

“Uncle, can you talk to him?”

“Yes, though I am not sure what good it would do.”

“Is there anyone else you can talk to, someone who has authority over him?”

He shook his head. “The old structures have broken down. Lok is his own man.”

“But you said he reported to a deputy Mountain Master.”

She saw him hesitate and wondered if she’d slighted him by being so insistent. “Not anymore. Things are different now than they used to be. The old ways of doing business have changed and the need to be interdependent has disappeared. The large societies have moved on from moneylenders, whorehouses, and extortion. There is too much money to be made counterfeiting purses and watches, and even more to be made pirating computer software. It takes a different mentality to run that kind of business, so they have cut themselves off from the grubby stuff, handing it over to small-timers like Lok to run as they see fit. He does not report to anyone; he has no allegiances to anyone other than to himself.”

“So we have to talk to Lok.”

“We do.”

“Uncle, I don’t want to be unreasonable. He can keep some of the money. Tell him it’s my way of apologizing for Wu.”

He shook his head. “No, men like Lok do not think like that. He probably thinks the money is his by now. It will be all or it will be nothing.”

“You know best.”

He stood and walked around the table to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and then leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I will call him. Wait here,” he said.

She had no real expectation that he would be successful; she was just appreciative that he’d try. She prepared herself for disappointment, determined not to show a flicker of it. All Uncle would see was how pleased she was that he’d made the phone call.

The few minutes turned into ten and then fifteen. Ava sat at the little table, occasionally picking at the remaining snow pea tips, and despite herself starting to feel encouraged by the duration of his absence. The longer the discussion, the better her chances, she thought. That was until she saw Uncle walk back into the kitchen.

She’d known him long enough to recognize the signs: the tightening of his mouth, the slightly averted eyes, shoulders that weren’t completely square. “So it was no,” she said, making it easier for him.

“It was no,” he said as he resumed his seat.

“Thank you for trying.”

“We exchanged harsh words. He was always ignorant and he had been drinking, and Wu has been agitating him, so I think he liked the idea of my asking him for a favour. And he liked even more the fact that he could tell me to go and f*ck myself without having to worry about the consequences. I was not polite in return.”

“Uncle, I’m sorry now that I even asked.”

“No, I wanted to do it.”

“Now what? What do I do?” she said, more to herself than to him.

“You do nothing,” he said quickly. “You cannot reason with him; you cannot scare him; you have no means, legal or otherwise, to get to him. You have to tell your brother that his investment is gone. He should walk away.”

“Just like that?”

“Exactly like that.”

She sighed. “I think you’re right.”

“So, assuming I am right, what are your plans?”

“I’m having lunch with my brother and his partner tomorrow. I’ll let them know how this ends, and then I’ll get the first plane I can back to Toronto.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “I am sorry I could not help.”

“And I’m sorry for not calling you earlier.”

“Go home and rest. Spend some time with your mother and sister. This business of ours is hard on all of us.”

She walked him to his car. As Sonny opened the door for his boss, Uncle said, “Wuhan called. They are very happy about the speed with which you retrieved the money.”

“Has it reached the Kowloon bank?”

“Yes, this morning.”

“I’ve prepared a breakdown of who got what in Europe and how our share should be distributed. I’ll email it to you later,” she said, realizing she should have done that the day before.

The art forgery case had been concluded less than three days ago. To Ava it felt like light-years.