Blood Passage (23 page)

Hank winced a little at the force with which she used the word “network” and at the sharpness of her tone. “Is this as crude as just saying he would make it worth your while to keep your nose out of this business?”

“
No, it’s not that crude.” Meredith folded her hands in her lap. “Look, although you had your fun with me suggesting that I was using ‘network’ as a euphemism for ‘Triad,’ the fact of the matter is that I wasn’t. The concept is referred to as
guanxi
, which translates as ‘personal connections’ and has to do with the complex relationships between a person and their family, their friends and their business associates. Peter was making it clear he felt there was
guanxi
between us he’d previously neglected and was now prepared to acknowledge, particularly given that I understood what he was driving at and was willing to cooperate.

“
Traditional Chinese place an enormous value on interpersonal relationships. No doubt you twitch when you hear the word
tong
, thinking of murderous street gangs running drugs and all the rest, but the word simply means ‘common,’ as in a group of people who have common interests. While some of the people who belong to Chinese Tongs are criminals, many others aren’t. A Tong is like any other businessman’s association, sharing favors and helping one another get ahead.

“
In the same way, the Triad society to which Peter belongs,” she smiled at him ironically, “and I don’t see the point in using euphemisms in this context, is constructed around the same principle of
guanxi
among associates. Key to this network of relationships is the idea of
renqing
, which is like the glue holding a
guanxi
network together.
Renqing
implies an emotional commitment to a
guanxi
relationship, first of all. For example, Peter felt genuine affection toward Martin, and he no doubt feels genuine loyalty toward other members of his Triad. But
renqing
also refers to the exchange of favors or financial considerations that bind a relationship together. Peter developed his
guanxi
with Martin through a process of
renqing
that included helping him get the job at Dicam, bringing him down to the Golden Dragon and introducing him around, and generally watching out for him. Martin would then have been expected to reciprocate in his own way. That’s what really bothers me about all this, Lieutenant. What exactly was Martin’s
renqing
? Did he do something for Peter that got him killed?”

“
I’m not sure yet,” Hank said, making a note of the terms she was teaching him. It occurred to him that perhaps it was because Martin failed to uphold his
renqing
obligation to Peter that he ended up dead.

“
I’m not trying to minimize the criminal nature of Peter’s business,” Meredith said, shifting forward. “You understand that, don’t you? I’m not romanticizing this by any means. While people like Peter are polite, loyal, self-effacing and all the rest of it, they’re still a bunch of criminals for whom murder is just another negotiating tactic.” She made a fist. “We tried so hard to keep Martin away from it all, to keep the wall intact between our family and the Mahs. But Peter was too persuasive. Martin couldn’t resist the lure of discovering his cultural heritage. There was nothing Stephen and I could offer that was a greater attraction. It was a battle we were doomed to lose.”

“
I can understand how hard it must have been,” Hank said. “If it’s any consolation, we’ve reached the conclusion that the drug angle was phony. We’re still looking into the connections between Martin and Peter Mah, but we don’t see any evidence of criminal involvement on Martin’s part. There was something else.”

“
Thanks for saying that.” She smiled faintly. “It means a lot.”

“
How well did you know Martin’s friend Tommy Leung?”

“
Not well. They graduated together. Martin liked to go over to Tommy’s place a lot. Tommy almost never came over to our house.” She thought for a moment. “He worked for his father. They have some kind of big electronics store.”

“
And you don’t have any idea what kind of trouble Martin thought Tommy was in?”

“
No. Sorry.”

“
Not a problem.” Hank closed his notebook and put it away. “Thanks. I really appreciate your help in all this.”

“
You’re welcome, Lieutenant,” she said, rising. “You’ll find Peter to be quite charming. You’ll find him open to developing some sort of a relationship with you based on an exchange of information or whatever. He’s probably already done that with other policemen; it’s the way he works. Just don’t make the mistake of believing he’s acting as an individual with an individual’s motivations. Peter is ambitious,
very
ambitious, but bear in mind you’ll have a very hard time predicting which way he’ll jump if you think that money and power are the only things he cares about. Remember, as Jerome’s only son he stands to inherit enormous money and power when the old man’s gone. That’s a great deal of
mianzi
for him right there, following in his father’s footsteps, but he’s chosen a different path for his life. The ancient calling of the Triad is very powerful to him, and he’d rather die than betray the
guanxi
he finds there.”

They walked back down the corridor from the living room into the open concept area where he had first entered the apartment. She opened the door and walked with him down the corridor to the elevator.

“
Be very careful,” she said. “He’s very intelligent and not a person to take lightly.”

“
I understand.”

“
I appreciate your coming to see me,” Meredith said, patting his arm. “I hope I wasn’t too grouchy with you.”

He looked at her in surprise. “No, that’s fine, I understand. It was my fault. I should have known better.”

“
Let me know if I can be of any further help.”

“
I wouldn’t want to put you in a bad spot with Peter Mah.”

She laughed lightly. “Peter won’t bother me. Give me a call, any time.” She walked back down to her apartment and closed the door.

As he rode the elevator back down to the lobby he could still feel her touch, as though her fingers still rested on his arm.

It was a few minutes before 11:00 p.m. As he stepped out into the street behind Jimmy Yung, Peter Mah slipped on a pair of Persol sunglasses with brown frames and burnt orange lenses that had cost him only
£
150 during a recent trip to London. He favored the glasses for night wear because they provided him with the elegant appearance he sought without unduly compromising his vision. He was wearing a black sports jacket that he did not particularly like, blue jeans, and a light blue shirt open at the neck. Jimmy looked to the left and the right as they approached the vehicle at the curb but Peter looked only straight ahead, staring at Jimmy’s back.

The vehicle was a sleek black 2001 Mercedes-Benz S Class Pullman limousine, the W220 model with six doors and seating for seven. It was not as big as a stretch limousine, which Peter appreciated because it did not draw undue attention to itself, but it allowed five people to sit comfortably in the back, two in the rear on either side of the center console and three in the middle, facing back, when the center console was folded up. However, the limo was not for luxury travel but was a working vehicle, an alternative to the Lexus when Peter required a number of people to ride with him. It was beautiful, just the same, with active ventilated leather seats, privacy windows, burled walnut root trim, a laptop docking station, small tables and computer monitors that folded up out of the rear center console, and other amenities. The leather upholstery, however, was not the original. In fact, the interior had been reupholstered twice since Peter had begun to use it. It too, like the Lexus, was registered to Dicam International but was reserved for Peter’s exclusive use.

Benny Hu was driving and Billy Fung rode in the front passenger seat. Jimmy opened the rear door and Peter got in, seating himself opposite Donald Sheng, who lowered his eyes as Peter settled in. Also in the seat opposite Peter, on the far side, was Foo Yee. Between Sheng and Foo sat a tall, heavy-set African-American whose wrists and ankles were bound with plastic locking straps. He was in his late twenties with a shaven head and a large graffiti-style tattoo on the right side of his neck. He wore a baggy cotton shirt with pineapples printed on it, baggy blue jeans, and large white sneakers. A flashy watch glittered on his wrist and four large rings, two on each hand, caught the overhead lights as Jimmy got into the rear seat beside Peter on the other side. The prisoner’s eyes settled on Peter.

“
Yo, wha’ the fuck’s up wit’ all this, man?”

Foo moved faster than the eye could see, his elbow catching the prisoner on the side of the neck. The man gasped, eyes rolling, and he slumped sideways into Sheng, who pushed him back upright.

“
You were told to remain silent,” Sheng said quietly. “You won’t be told again.”

The limo pulled away from the curb and made its way slowly through the streets of Chinatown. Peter looked at their prisoner with grim satisfaction. ShonDale Gregg. A friend in the Department of Motor Vehicles had run the license plate number Lester Ping had supplied and it had led to this man. Peter felt certain he’d found one of the men with whom Tommy Leung was breaking his society oaths. He should be able to resolve this matter very quickly. Uncle Sang would be pleased.

After a few moments ShonDale’s eyes refocused and his breathing evened out. After trying in vain to follow their progress through the narrow side streets of Chinatown, he began to stare at Peter, perhaps hoping to impress him with a show of machismo. Sheng noticed it, however, and lightly cuffed ShonDale across the mouth.

“
Lower your eyes, dog.”

ShonDale raised his arms to wipe his sleeve across the corner of his mouth where it had started to bleed. He drew breath to say something but Foo stirred beside him and he thought better of it. He let his hands drop between his knees and stared at the plastic locking strap around his wrists. It was amazing how strong something that thin could be. It was also not lost on him that both men sitting beside him wore latex gloves. Not a good sign.

Before long the limo pulled up underneath one of the massive bridges spanning the river into South Shore East. Waiting for them was a nondescript Ford Escort. Lounging against the front fender of the Escort was Stevie Mah, Peter’s cousin. Stevie had stolen the car from the other side of the river and had driven it here for the rendezvous.

Benny Hu turned the limo so that the immediate area was illuminated in its headlights. Peter got out and walked over. “Stevie, how are you doing?” He held out his hand.

Stevie lowered his head respectfully and then shook his cousin’s hand. “I’m very well, Peter. And yourself? Feeling fit?”

“
Feeling very well tonight, very well.” Peter released Stevie’s hand and glanced at the car. “I appreciate your help with this.”

“
It’s nothing,” Stevie said. “It’s what I do.”

It was true. Stevie Mah was one of the best car thieves Peter knew. Peter stepped aside as Sheng and Foo muscled ShonDale Gregg past them into the shadows underneath the concrete pilings of the bridge. The plastic locking strap around his ankles had been cut to allow him to walk, but the one around his wrists was still in place. Billy Fung followed them. Peter removed his sunglasses and gave them to Benny Hu, who handed Peter a thick envelope in return and went back to the limo.

Peter gave Stevie the envelope. “Get in the limo. We’ll take you home shortly. This won’t take too long.”

Stevie slipped the envelope inside his jacket. “Thanks, Peter.” He lowered his head again and followed Hu to the limo.

Peter turned and walked over to the group under the concrete pilings. ShonDale had been forced to his knees by Sheng and Foo, who stood on either side of him. There was enough illumination from the car headlights that Peter could see their faces.

Billy was waving a gun under ShonDale’s nose.

Peter confronted him. “Go back to the limo.”

The arrogance slowly drained from Billy’s expression, replaced by fear as he saw the contempt in Peter’s face. He put the gun away and hurried back to the limo.

Peter stood in front of the remaining trio.

“
You’re ShonDale Gregg.”

ShonDale said nothing, head down. Sheng roughly pushed on the back of his neck. “Answer the
Hung Kwan’s
questions, dog.”

“
Yeah,” ShonDale muttered, ‘yeah, thass me.”

“
You belong to the R Boyz?”

“
Thass what the tat says, so ah’m guessin’ it be true.”

“
How do you know Tommy Leung?”

“
Leung? Who the fuck dat be, man?” ShonDale started to raise his head to look at Peter, but Sheng roughly struck it back down.

“
Answer the
Hung Kwan’s
questions. You won’t be told again.”