She had forgotten to ask Uncle what Andy meant by the “Kung mess.”
And — perhaps an even stronger indication of how distracted she was — she had somehow neglected to tell anyone that she had wired more than a million dollars to Toronto.
( 1
6 )
AT FIVE TO
nine, Ava walked out of the elevator and into the lobby of the Oriental Crocus Hotel.
She had no idea how long she had been in the shower. She’d scrubbed every square inch of her body over and over again, and then washed her hair twice. Even after she dried herself and was getting dressed, the smells of soap and shampoo were still powerful.
On the train going back to Kowloon she’d had second thoughts about accepting the dinner invitation from Uncle. Then she had realized that she didn’t have his phone number, so had no way of cancelling except by telling his driver that she wasn’t going with him, and she was too polite to do that. So dinner it would be, and as she showered and then dressed, the thought of Kobe beef slivers and huge shrimp simmering in a hotpot became more and more enticing. For a small woman she had a huge appetite, and more than once her mother had admonished her for eating like a glutton. She would have to show restraint at dinner, she told herself. And as she got dressed, she decided to be as restrained in the way she looked.
She put on a white shirt, which she buttoned almost all the way to her neck, and a pair of roomy black linen slacks. The pumps she had worn to Shenzhen were replaced by flats. She pulled back her hair and fastened it with a plain white plastic clasp. She put on just a touch of red lipstick and black mascara, and then dabbed the Chanel perfume her mother had given her for Christmas on her wrists and collarbones. When she stood in front of the mirror, she was pleased to see a conservatively dressed young professional woman looking back at her.
She was ready to leave at a quarter to nine, but then she noticed the light on the hotel phone was blinking. She followed the automated directions and was told there were two voice messages in her box. Her mother had left the first.
“Ava, I just wanted to make sure you arrived safely. I have told your father that you’re there, so you should expect a call from him. As well, I played mah-jong with Mrs. Lo last night. She is thrilled that you’re helping her husband. I just hope her expectations are realistic. Anyway, call me when you can.”
Her father was the next in line. “I hear you are in Hong Kong. Call me on my mobile so we can arrange a lunch.”
She looked at her watch. It was too early to phone her mother and probably too late to reach her father on his mobile. Both calls would have to wait until tomorrow.
The hotel lobby was almost empty when she got there. As she walked towards the exit, a very large man dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie dominated her line of vision. He stood just inside the door, his back leaning against the wall. Ava guessed he was six foot three and had to weigh 250 pounds. As she got closer to him, she saw that his brow was furrowed and he seemed to be scowling. His eyes were rather small, almost sinister, and that impression was heightened by the coarseness of his skin, which was pockmarked on both cheeks.
When he saw her, he straightened, and the scowl diminished as his face appeared to relax.
“Are you Sonny?” she asked.
“Yes, and you must be Ava Lee.”
“I am.”
“Uncle is waiting for you at the restaurant, so we can go there now.”
“Wonderful.”
He went to the door and held it open for her. As she passed through, almost brushing against him, his size was even more apparent. A silver Mercedes idled at the curb. The doorman stood next to it, as if standing guard. He made a move to open the front passenger door, but before he could, Sonny slipped past Ava and reached for the rear door handle. She stopped, surprised by his speed and agility. The doorman backed away from the car. Ava slid into the back seat and watched as Sonny passed an HK$50 note to the other man.
They rode in silence to the restaurant. Unlike her mother, who had a need to fill the air with idle chatter, Ava was comfortable with quiet. She gazed out the window. Mong Kok was alive with people shopping at the night street markets and coming and going from the numerous neon-lit restaurants. After a few minutes, Ava saw a sign for Tsim Sha Tsui and knew they were nearing Victoria Harbour. As she looked ahead, waiting for the harbour and the magnificent Hong Kong skyline to appear, she caught Sonny’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. They weren’t as sinister as they had first seemed, but they were watchful and cautious.
The car turned right before they reached the harbour and Ava found herself in a part of Tsim Sha Tsui she had never been to before. They drove past the back of the Peninsula Hotel and then onto a side street that had the same bustling fervour they’d just left behind in Mong Kok. Sonny parked the car directly in front of Ming’s Hot Pot. Ava started to open her door, but Sonny was already out of the car, his hand reaching for the handle.
“Go right in,” he said. “Just tell the host you’re with Uncle.”
The restaurant was packed, and she had to fight her way past a throng at the door to get to the host’s stand. He looked at her and said, “An hour, maybe two hours before there’s a table.”
“I’m with Uncle — Mr. Chow Tung.”
“Ah, okay, right this way,” he said, turning and not so gently pushing aside the waiting customers.
They had to walk through the entire restaurant to get to the private room. Ava estimated there had to be sixty tables seating anywhere from four to twenty people. All of them were full, and the noise level was deafening. Even more distracting for her was the air quality. The restaurant’s ventilation system wasn’t working or was overburdened, because the steam rising from the pots was like an aromatic fog.
There was more than one private room at the rear. The host stopped at the first and then knocked loudly on the closed door. “Uncle, your guest is here.”
Ava couldn’t hear any noise from inside and was surprised when the door swung quickly and completely open. She found herself looking directly into the eyes of a small, thin man wearing a black suit and a white shirt buttoned to the neck. He was perhaps two inches taller than her, and he couldn’t have weighed much more, either.
“You must be Ava,” he said, extending his right hand and flashing a smile that exposed brilliant white teeth.
“Uncle,” she said.
“Andy said you were a beautiful young woman. For once he did not exaggerate, although I have to say you are even younger than I expected.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing has to be said. Now you must be hungry. Come, let us sit.”
Ava stepped inside, the restaurant host trailing.
“Uncle, do you want me to turn on the fire now?” the host asked. “And would you like another beer?”
“Wait just a moment, Ming. I need to find out if Ms. Lee is ready to eat and if she wants something to drink,” he said as he pulled out her chair.
“I’m famished,” Ava said. “And I would really like a glass of dry white wine.”
“I have Italian, German, and Swiss wines,” the host said.
“The Italian will do,” Ava said, wondering how Swiss wine had conquered China.
“I ordered the Kobe beef, shrimp, oysters, mushrooms, and some green vegetables. Is there anything else you would like?” Uncle asked.
“No, that sounds just fine.”
“Then light the fire and bring the food, the wine, and another beer,” Uncle said to Ming.
“Yes, Uncle,” the host said, bending down to fire up the gas fixture.
When he left, Ava found herself the subject of another penetrating stare. She started to turn away, but then she wondered why she should and looked directly at him. He was of an indeterminate age. His hair was black, flecked with traces of grey and cropped close to his scalp. There were fine lines under his eyes, and more around the edges of his mouth.
He could be fifty, sixty, or seventy
, she thought.
His gaze didn’t waver and she tried to act as resolute. His eyes were incredibly dark, the irises a rich deep brown, and their depth was intensified by the pure whiteness of the sclera. Strangely, she didn’t feel that he was trying to intimidate her. It was more as if he was searching, trying to see into her.
“I have to thank you for getting me out of Shenzhen,” she said, finally lowering her eyes.
“After what you did for Carlo and Andy, it was my pleasure.”
“Andy said you had to call in favours.”
“Unfortunately, a cost was involved.”
“I’m sorry it came to that.”
“The favours do not matter. They are always there in the new China if you have
guanxi
. And I do.”
“He mentioned there was a mess with Kung.”
“He gave you none of the details?”
“No, he said you would fill me in.”
“That surprises me but pleases me. Andy is quite taken with you, and I was sure he would not be able to resist telling you.”
“He told me nothing at all, and I am obviously anxious to know.”
Uncle leaned forward, his hands folded neatly in front of him. As he began to speak, the door opened and Ming walked in with the drinks. Directly behind him came two women carrying large trays.
“We will wait until Ming is done,” Uncle said.
The drinks were served and the women put the trays on a side table. They set the main table with bowls, plates, chopsticks, small wire baskets, napkins, various sauces, and chilis. Ava looked at the array of food and her stomach almost ached. The beef was cut into long, thin slices that were almost transparent. The shrimp, their shells and heads still on, had to be six inches in length. The broth was already bubbling. Ming poured soy sauce into a small bowl for each of them. Then he said to Uncle, “Would you like me to make one of the pots spicy?”
“Ava, what do you prefer?” Uncle asked.
The large pot was divided into two by a strip of metal. “One side spicy is fine with me,” she said.
“Go ahead, Ming,” Uncle said.
When he finished, Ming stepped back from the table and hovered.
“This looks wonderful,” Uncle said. “Check back on us every ten minutes or so. I have a feeling that the cold beer and cold white wine will be going down very easily.”
Ming closed the door as he left.
Uncle lifted his bottle of Tsingtao. “
Gom bui
,” he said.
Ava stretched across the table and tapped the rim of her glass against his bottle. “
Gom bui
.”
Uncle picked up a set of chopsticks and began to put the raw food into the pots. He left the beef for last. “It will take only a few seconds for the meat,” he said, handing her one of the small wire baskets, which he had layered with slices of beef.
She dipped it into the spicy broth and after no more than five seconds took it out. She emptied it onto her plate and then picked up a piece. It melted in her mouth.
For the next few minutes they busied themselves with the pots, taking out food and putting more in, until her hunger began to abate. He ate as eagerly as she did, and more rapidly. In fact she couldn’t remember seeing anyone eat quite so quickly. It surprised her. This was a man whose outward demeanour was so calm.
The shrimp were plucked from the pot last. Uncle put two on his plate, peeled the shell from one, leaving the head on, and passed it to Ava. She dipped the shrimp into the bowl that held a mixture of soy sauce and chilis and savoured the first bite. The flesh was perfect, delicate but firm all the way through. When she was done, she saw Uncle eyeing the head.
“I don’t eat these. Would you like it?” she asked.
He nodded with a smile and she passed it to him. He put it in his mouth and sucked. Ava had tried it once at the urging of her mother, and though the head meat had incredible flavour, the consistency put her off.
“I need another beer. More wine for you?” he asked.
“Please.”
He walked to the door, opened it, and waved a hand. He had hardly resumed sitting before Ming was there with their drinks and an ice bucket, in which he left extra beer and a half-empty bottle of Pinot Grigio.
“How do you find the food?” Uncle asked her.
“Couldn’t you tell?”
“I come here often. Ming spoils me.”
Ava sipped her wine and began to feel the stress of the day ebb. “You were going to tell me about Kung,” she said.
“We had to let him go,” Uncle said quietly. “That was part of the deal to get you and Andy released.”
“Oh.”
“I know you must be disappointed, after everything you have gone through, but it was either that or have Li press charges against you for assault and against Andy for attempted murder.”
“Andy didn’t try to kill anyone.”
“No, but he was silly enough to wave around a gun in public.”
“You said letting Kung go was just part of the deal.”
“Well, it was more involved than that, but we need not get into it.”
“No, please, I’d really like to know. You know I am new to all this, and I would like to understand how things work in China.”
Uncle shrugged. “The first thing you should know is that there is no one China. Each province and each major city has its own peculiarities, and there are many subtle differences among them that take time to understand. Shenzhen is so new, so raw, that it is still finding its way. I like to think of it as the Chinese equivalent of the American Wild West. Anything goes.”