FEARLESS FINN'S MURDEROUS ADVENTURE (13 page)

“I was invited by my professor to his party, and I knew that there would be many people of influence there. So I wore my best dress, bought for me by my mother from GUM, the finest store in all of the Soviet Union. Most of the professor’s guests were old men, maybe forty or fifty years of age, but I enjoyed myself. But one small man, with very little hair on his head and crooked teeth, kept bothering me. You know…asking silly questions about my boyfriend and what we ‘get up to’ together. He would not believe I had no boyfriend, and that I was too busy with my studies to bother with such things. I tried to tell my professor that this little man was being too familiar with me. But my professor told me sharply, ‘Don’t be foolish Nataliya Yelena, that man could make life very difficult for me. You be friendly to him, you hear? Why do you think I invited you to this party…because of your brain? No! There are plenty of brainy girls in the university. With such a pretty dress on tonight, I thought you understood.’”

Shit, I could just about guess at the next chapter in Nataliya Yelena’s little saga. And I was right on the button.

“The little man offered me a lift home in his car, and my professor was listening, so I said ‘Yes please, that would be good.’ Good for him perhaps….He drove a little Zaporozhets, the cheapest Soviet car, and the most affordable to common people. So I couldn’t understand why he had such influence over my professor.”

She turned back from the balcony and I saw tears flooding down her face.

“Don’t worry Nataliya…if it upsets you to remember, then don’t. We’ll talk about something happy, or you could come back to bed and I’ll tickle your toes. You like that, eh?” I said, trying to get her to stop crying.

“
Нет, нет
…no, no. I’ll say it quickly. But you won’t be angry with me and throw me out will you, Gerry, before it’s really time for me to go?
Oбещание
Gerry, promise?”

“Of course I won’t,” I promised her. I’m Italian, and that guarantees I’m a sucker for a sob story.

She took a tissue, dried her eyes and blew her nose before continuing.

“When we reached the outskirts of the city the little man said he had to relieve himself and needed to find
рощу
…a copse of trees. I waited and waited in the car. He was away so long that I became worried. I left the car and went to look for him. I found him behind a tree where he must have been able to see me sitting in the car. He had his
пенис
, his penis, in his hand. I was shocked. He grabbed me…he was very strong for such a little man, and I was an athlete, but he tore my lovely new dress and entered me. He thought it very funny when he saw blood on my panties and my leg, and my best dress torn.

“Mamma scolded me like a small child for tearing the expensive dress she had saved so hard to buy for me, so I could not tell her what had happened. When I told my professor he sneered, ‘Well, Nataliya Yelena, at least you have that nasty experience out of the way.’ I could not believe my ears. So I went to the
полиция
…the police, and they threw me out for making such an accusation against such a fine government official! Then my grant for university was withdrawn, and the professor said I had only myself to blame.

“When my
менструальный цикл
, my period, didn’t come I knew I was pregnant. Everyone said have an abortion Nataliya Yelena…get rid of it. I could not. Never! The little official, and father of my child, said he would help me. But he introduced me to a
бабушка
, a
friendly
grandmother, who
sold
me to the Mafia for a crate of vodka. They made me prostitute myself to many men in Saint Petersburg, then in Beijing, and now in Macau. But my precious daughter, my Nakita Sylvina, is safe with my mamma in Moscow.”

Her story had a ring of truth to it – so did the tears in her grey-blue eyes as she relived the memories. I’ve been around long enough to know hookers give schmucks their sob stories, to tug at their wallets and everything. But I believe Nataliya’s story about how she was raped and got pregnant – and how she wasn’t believed when she reported the rape to the Moscow police. Just like I believe she’d been studying languages at her university. She speaks English real good, with just a little accent, and no way was her vocabulary just picked up off the streets or in hotel rooms. Anyway, I believe her, and I don’t believe easy.

As Nataliya was leaving that Monday morning I gave her a five hundred dollar tip. She looked real happy about the extra dough, but then she seemed kind of pissed too. I realised that I’d sort of broken the spell of the weekend. I had to think fast.

“Send the money to your mother in Moscow. She’s taking care of your kid, right? She could handle a few extra bucks, yeah?” That seemed to take the sting out of her taking the money like some run-of-the-mill hooker.

“
Cпасибо
…thank you Gerry.”

I wish I’d met Nataliya Yelena under different circumstances, but I didn’t. Falling for a Russian girl controlled by the ex-KGB Russian Mafia could get you killed. And that’s not something I’m quite prepared to get into…not just yet.

———

Me and Earl have been to Taipei four times already. I always imagined Taiwan would be industrial plants and chimney stacks across the skyline – like one giant Pittsburgh with rice paddies. But from what I’ve seen, it’s mostly farming, and mom-and-pop businesses up back alleys.

And let me tell you, they have money! They have truckloads of US dollars, and they don’t deposit it in regular Taiwan banks. Taiwan has real tight-assed currency laws that keep their citizens from taking US dollars out of the country – legit, that is. Earl and I have been helping them move it, but not in large enough amounts…and not often enough to satisfy the demand. So we’re planning to expand operations to meet the demand.

On our last visit we took a hotel car out to the country to meet farmers growing rice, raising ducks and breeding dogs for the cooking pot. They’ve all put money into their own co-operative society, and it’s worth billions of dollars. Earl wants us to get our hands on some of that, and he’s working on a scheme that he doesn’t want to talk about yet.

So far I’ve kept Earl away from Uncle Sui, even though I know Uncle’s influence covers all of Taiwan and he could help us with the duck farmers. But what would it cost? And would he really want a couple of Yanks horsing around in Taiwan? It’s not like he needs us there.

Whenever I meet Uncle Sui he asks about Finn Flynn, but he won’t let anyone know why he’s involved with him. It’s a taboo subject. I tried to get Uncle to tell me one afternoon when we were relaxing in the steam rooms in TST, Kowloon. But before he said a word he just looked at me for a while in that way he does, like he can read your mind.

“Look into Finn Flynn’s eyes the next time you meet him Gerry. There is hard steel behind those eyes. I saw it during lunch in the Man Wah restaurant on the first day we met. Do not be fooled by his Irish charm. Remember, he too has powerful friends, and they think very highly of him. He is in Asia as my guest, and he must be treated with respect….You will include Finn Flynn in your business in Taiwan with the clever Mister Earl? Yes?”

Damn! He’s known about Earl and Taiwan all along. I tried to think fast, but I realised it wasn’t the time to make excuses. If he wants an explanation I’ll have to give him one….

Before I could think what to tell him, Uncle slipped on his monogrammed bathrobe and continued. “Gerry, you may call upon my help in your dealings in Taiwan. They are very tricky people, peasants mostly, but they are sly, cunning, and they do not trust easily. I have some influence there, which may prove useful to you. I do not wish to know the details of what you and Earl are planning. If it does not go well I will deny that I knew what you and your friend were up to. Do you understand, Gerry? When you are ready, just tell me what the Sun Yat Sun may hope to receive from these enterprises. Also, I do not wish to meet your friend Earl. One American at a time is quite enough for an old man like me. But bring Finn Flynn to see me soon. I need to speak with him.”

Jeez, I can’t remember Uncle Sui ever saying so much in one conversation. I got the message loud and clear – don’t fuck Finn Flynn around, watch out for the Taiwanese, cover our asses, and don’t expect any help from him if anything goes wrong. But most important, don’t forget his share.

I got to thinking about what Uncle Sui said about Finn Flynn and his ‘powerful friends’. Who the hell are they? No one’s ever mentioned organised crime and Finn Flynn in the same breath. That only leaves those crazy fucks, the Irish Republican Army. Jesus H. Christ, I hope he’s not tied up with those guys.

I remember one time in Chicago I was in a bar and I met some of their supporters collecting for ‘the cause’. “Forget it, I don’t give to causes, and anyways, I already gave at the office,” I said.

They didn’t seem to like my little joke and got kind of pushy. Chicago’s not my hometown, so I just let it pass and slipped the big lug with the curly red hair a fifty spot. Then I changed my mind and made it a hundred. After they left, the bartender told me that if you work for the city of Chicago they take ten per cent right out of your pay and send it to the Provos. If you don’t want to contribute to the Irish struggle, you find yourself a new job…and a new city.

Naw, no way! I can’t believe it. Uncle Sui wouldn’t attach himself to that band of gun-toting, bomb-throwing lunatics, would he? Thanks all the same, but even if he has, I’m not about to ask.

HONG KONG

Whenever I was
asked in the past to help a
gweilo
I always refused.
Gweilos
are more trouble than they are worth, and given the chance, they will shit on a Chinaman every time.

I first realised this when I was a probationary police constable stationed in Shek Wai Kok, in Hong Kong’s New Territories. I was only getting my share of the tea money from the duck farmers and illegal dog fights. But when our new
gweilo
inspector – freshly arrived from England – carried out an unscheduled inspection he found the money I had hidden in my locker. He questioned me, marched me back to the village, and ordered me to hand it all back to the head man.

That was a great loss of face, and but for the intervention of the station sergeant – a man from my own city of Xi’an in Shaanxi Province – I would have been dismissed from the Royal Hong Kong Police Force. If that had happened, how then would I have paid the Snakeheads who smuggled my wife’s sister to Sheung Wan aboard a Yaumati Ferry? It would have been more than loss of face…it would probably have meant loss of life for a relation of mine still living in China. Snakeheads do not like not getting paid.

Luckily for me, not wanting to fall foul of the Chinese members of the police, the village headman spoke with Sergeant Sun Lui-Ping. He handed back the tea money – that I had been shamefully ordered to return by that pigheaded
gweilo
inspector – to the sergeant. The head man swore on his children’s lives to keep quiet about the dishonourable incident…and he kept his word.

Auspiciously – one of my favourite English words – after one year as a police constable in the New Territories, I was sent on an anti-vice training course at Police Headquarters in Wan Chai, on Hong Kong Island. One evening the training instructor took me to the Susie Wong club for drinks, and a short time with a young girl who had just arrived from Heilongjiang in northern China. She had never been with a man before, and I had never done a virgin. Afterwards she cried, and I wanted to slap her for spoiling my short time. Instead, I flung her clothes at her and yelled, ‘You are useless!’

I did not know that the training instructor was watching me through a two-way mirror – usually used for covertly taking pictures of clients with very young girls, or doing things that would sicken their wives and mothers. The instructor said he was impressed by the way I dealt with the prostitute.

He told me that if I joined his Triad, the Sun Yat Sun, he might recommend me for a permanent position with Vice. There was plenty of tea money to be made as a member of Vice, and there would be extra benefits with the girls. I would have been a fool to refuse the instructor’s offer. I swore the Thirty-six Oaths and became a Sun Yat Sun Triad. And true to his word, the instructor got me transferred to the Vice Squad based at Wan Chai Royal Hong Kong Police Station.

I became a sergeant in the Wan Chai Station, while making my way steadily upwards in the Sun Yat Sun. The tea money poured in, I had my pick of the new girls fresh from China, Thailand and the Philippines, and life was not so complicated.

Any business person who made an official complaint against the Triad was slashed across the face by my code 426 fighters. Then, if they still complained, the fire brigade visited their business premises and found many expensive breaches of regulations. The unfortunates walking the streets of Hong Kong – with their faces disfigured by criss-crossed scars, moaning about the Triad and the fire brigade – were very useful to us. Their mere existence encouraged others to seek the protection of the Sun Yat Sun…lest the same fate befall them.