Part 9 (1/2)
I will not weep, Bliss told herself. But in this she was not successful.
McKenna went looking for Big Oysters Pok. He had been electrified by the thought that Southasia Bancorp might be in financial trouble. If the rumor's true, he thought, Formidable Sung's in a real mess. Half his life must be tied up in Southasia's vaults. If there really is a case of fiduciary malfeasance at Southasia I sodding well better find out about it.
McKenna prowled the nightside clubs of Wan chai. He went from one sleezy joint to another. A world of revolving red and green lights, watered-down drinks, and pathetic wh.o.r.es, addicted to the tears of the poppy at twelve, old at fifteen, masters of sleight of hand and deceit.
He had only ever seen Big Oysters in one of these places. McKenna supposed the Chinese lived in that world in a kind of permanent way. Big Oysters, the Chinese said, knew everything that went on within the Crown Colony. The fact was that he made McKenna nervous. He fell into none of the preconceived stereotypes that filled McKenna's head, and therefore he was a threat. Usually, McKenna did not sit still for threats, but Big Oysters was different. McKenna needed him so he left him alone.
McKenna found him inside the White Teacup, an utterly ridiculous name for an establishment that dispensed swill and gonorrhea with equal indifference.
Big Oysters was sitting near the rear where, McKenna was quick to notice, the red and blue strobe lights were more subdued, the music not as deafening and the drinks were full strength.
McKenna made his way through the sailors on sh.o.r.e leave with the kind of exaggerated swagger that had helped earn him his nickname Great Pool of Piddlefrom the Chinese.
Big Oysters was with a woman, and not one of the local B-girls. This one had cla.s.s. She was dressed to kill. McKenna, getting an eyeful, fairly drooled over the cleavage and thigh the woman's theatrical and expensive dress revealed.
Seeing McKenna, Big Oysters squeezed the woman on the elbow and she rose, disappearing into the smoky pall of the nightclub.
There was nothing on Big Oysters' face to indicate how he felt about this grossly oversized man sitting down across from him. The fact was that McKenna's very size made the Chinese's sacred sac pull up inside itself. There was something intimidating about all that height and girth. Big Oysters hated himself for feeling as he did but there was nothing he could do about it. Joss.
”You've disturbed my evening,” he said, sipping at his Courvoisier.
”Mind if I have a drink?”
”Help yourself,a” Big Oysters said.
”Don't tell me you eat at joints like this?” McKenna sneered.
”I have business here,” Big Oysters said. ”I eat at Star House in Causeway Bay.”
”Sure, I know it,” McKenna said, nodding. He looked at Big Oysters through the gla.s.s. ”I need some information about Southasia Bancorp.”
Big Oysters winced inwardly at the foreign devil's total lack of manners. The civilized man would have sat and drunk at least one full round with his host; he would have asked after the host's family, the state of the host's business enterprises; he would have, perhaps, made a small wager on when rain would again fall. When one sat down with a toad, Big Oysters thought resignedly, one must expect to be spattered with slime.
”What about Southasia?”
”I was hoping you would tell me.”
Big Oysters watched those terrible pale blue eyes that looked as if they had witnessed something they should not have. ”What do I get in return?” he asked.
”Twenty-four-hour advance warning on the next Special Branch raid in your territory.”
”I want those raids to stop altogether.”
Christ, McKenna thought. ”Even I don't have that much authority. Besides, even if I did, it would cause too much talk at the commissioner's level. They'd no doubt hear about it in London and then there'd be a real flap, a full-scale investigation, and it all would be goneyour protection, our arrangement, everything.”
Big Oysters turned his head and spat. ”So much for the foreign-devil British. Their time here is done.”
”When and if they go it won't be the best scenario for the likes of you, I can tell you,” McKenna said gracelessly. ”The Communists'll come in here and pull all the hairs from your sacred sac.”
Big Oysters laughed to cover the enormity of his disgust for this barbarian. ”I wouldn't worry about the Communistsa” he said. ”We've got a surprise or two for them.”
”The Southasia Bancorp,” McKenna said. He had no desire to debate politics with an ignorant Chinese.
”Why did you come to me?”
McKenna finished his brandy. ”I have it on good authority that someone may have embezzled a lot of money out of there.”
Big Oysters considered what Great Pool of Piddle had told him. ”I have heard nothing of this,” he said. ”Nothing. And that is the most interesting aspect. Either your information is incorrect or”
”Or what?” McKenna prompted.
”Or,” Big Oysters said, ”the embezzlement is so big they've put a total security net over the whole thing.”
”Then I'm wasting my time with you.”
”On the contrary.” How I detest this foreign devil, Big Oysters thought. But I need his information to keep my profits high. I use him the way his kind have used us over the years. ”Be here this time tomorrow. You'll have your answer one way or the other.”
”b.l.o.o.d.y good,” McKenna said, getting up, ”Oh, one thing.”
”Yes.”
”Those raid warnings,” Big Oysters said, shuddering inwardly at the man's abominable height. ”You'll provide them free of charge for six months.”
”Impossible!” McKenna exploded.
”Nothing's impossible to a man of your rank,” Big Oysters said evenly. ”Tomorrow. At this time.”
Choking on his fury, McKenna nodded. Then he spun around and stalked out. There was too much noise for him to hear Big Oysters's laughter.
Every day of the working week, Jake went into Sawyer & Sons, laboring at the Zhuan's business out of an office Andrew Sawyer had set up for him, next to his own, on the top floor of the tower. On weekends, Jake worked either from home or from Three Oaths' junk.
There was much to be done. Lines of communication into Communist China, into Singapore, Bangkok, Manila, Jakarta, Toyko and Osaka had to be maintained. Every day, new contacts were being established, increasing the depth and scope of the yuhn-hyun's sphere of influence. Companies hewing cedar trees in Indonesia, building light machinery in Singapore, inventing new kinds of computer chips in Tokyo were all linked together in a far-flung skein of interrelated commerce.
And all had to be coordinated by the Zhuan. Mornings and evenings were devoted to telephone and Telex link-ups with various company presidents and key division personnel. In between, Jake was busy reviewing those companies' computer readouts relaying updates on inventories, production schedules, leveraged buy-outs, long-and short-term debt, market share and, in the case of the public corporations, how they were faring on their national stock markets.
The days were long, and inevitably filled with problems. But finding solutions was very much akin to planning moves across a wei qi board. Problem-solving became second nature to himas the Jian knew it wouldprecisely because of his wei qi training. Jake was fascinated by the manipulations, and the strategies he conjured up and implemented.
Near evening, he wrapped up his last call and, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, went down in the private elevator only he and Andrew Sawyer used. Out on the sidewalk, the air was thick with humidity. Overhead the sky was clear, streaked with a russet and amethyst sunset. Refracted off the spires of Central, it seemed to fill the air to the bursting point. But to the west, clouds were already pus.h.i.+ng in, and he scented rain on its way.
Jake knew there was someone there as soon as he got into his Jaguar. The car was parked just outside the Sawyer Building.
A tick in tall gra.s.s, he thought, beginning to work out the vectors open to him. All the while thinking two thoughts: Why is there someone following me? and Who is running the operation?
Several other things occurred to him as he made his way along Queen's Road.
Why choose this moment to begin a tail on him? Was it coincidence, or something more sinister? In Jake's experience it was dangerous to take an occurrence at face value.
His gaze flicked into the image in his rearview mirror: silver-gray Alfa-Romeo Spider Veloce, low and sleek. The driver allowed a cordovan-colored Mercedes 500 SEL, then a Mitsubis.h.i.+ truck to get in-between. The Spider moving up and back in the traffic flow: sign of a very canny driver. Yet Jake might not have been aware of him for some time, had he not misjudged the timing: Jake heard his engine start up, and then the Alfa's a millisecond later. If his window hadn't been down he doubted that he'd have heard the double sound at all. Joss. Bad for the tick, good for him.
It was not until Jake had parked his Jaguar in the Western District that he got a clear look. The tick was a woman. She did not have a typical Cantonese or Shanghainese face. That did not mean that she did not fit in with her surroundings. On the contrary, she was chicly dressed, in one of those oversize j.a.panese sweater-blouses, a gray-brown-taupe striped thing with bat sleeves and an enormous cowl neck that hung around her throat like jewelry. She wore mahogany-colored leather pants and ankle-high suede boots.