Zero Minus Ten rbb-1 Page 10

  She laughed. “What, your paper will print the views of a nightclub hostess?”

  “Why not? You’re as much a Hong Kong citizen as a wealthy banker.”

  “Don’t count on that,” she replied. “Wealthy bankers can buy their way out of the colony. Many already have. Thousands of people have managed to leave over the past few years. With what’s happened in the last couple of weeks, people who had decided to stay are now considering getting out. There is a lot of fear in the air.”

  “Fear of China?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You know that troops are lining up across the border from the New Territories?”

  Bond nodded.

  “Everyone is afraid that on July the first, the troops will pour in and take command of the city. There is going to be some violence.”

  “China has promised that Hong Kong will remain as it is for at least fifty years,” Bond reminded her.

  She scoffed. “Do you really believe that? Does the world believe that? They’ve already demanded changes in our governmental structure. The Legislative Council will be disbanded, you wait and see. They won’t have any power. There will be a crackdown on places like this. Anything that appeals to the vices of westerners will be banned—I know it will happen.”

  “But Hong Kong is Asia’s cash cow,” Bond said. “China cannot ignore that. They need Hong Kong. I honestly believe that they would lose face if they changed Hong Kong drastically.”

  Bond was a little surprised to find himself having an intelligent conversation about politics with a nightclub hostess. She was not only articulate, but had eyes that could melt him if he allowed them to.

  “Hey, listen,” she said, “would you like a private dance? We can go back to one of those rooms. We’d have complete privacy.”

  “Maybe later,” he said. “I’m enjoying our conversation.”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “You’re not like most men who come in here. Usually by now their hands are all over me.”

  Bond gave her a slight bow and said dryly, “I’m an English gentleman.”

  She laughed. “I can see that. You’re also very handsome … James.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear “And I’d like to see what’s in your pants, James.”

  It was a typical crude solicitation from this type of woman. For some reason, though, when she said it to Bond he became aroused. The girl was extremely sexy. He chalked it up to her genuine intelligence, usually conspicuously lacking in bar girls.

  “Aren’t I one of those gweilo who are treated with such disdain?” he asked.

  “I lived in America for a few years, remember? I like gweilo. ”

  “How much drinking have you done today?” he asked her.

  “This is my third drink, James,” she said. “Why, do I seem drunk?”

  “You seem a little high on something.”

  She shrugged and sniffed, unwittingly revealing what her vice might be. “A girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do to get through the working day, you know?” For a moment, she stared into her empty glass. Bond said nothing.

  “I tell you what,” she said, “I’m going to re-fill our drinks, all right?”

  Bond said, “Fine.” He gave her some more cash. She ran her fingers through his hair as she stood up, then sauntered back to the bar. He needed to ask her about Triads. Would she talk? She might open up to him if he played his cards right.

  When she came back with new drinks, Bond asked her, “Would you leave Hong Kong if you could?”

  “Are you kidding? I don’t want to live in a Communist country!”

  “Can’t you go back to your relatives in California? Take up residence with them?”

  She shook her head. “They aren’t there anymore. They were killed in an automobile accident. Besides, my mother is here. She’s sick. I have to take care of her.”

  “If you had the right papers for the two of you, you would get out?”

  “Of course!”

  “Is that why you’re with a Triad?”

  She blinked. “What did you say?”

  “You are with a Triad, right?” he said. “Aren’t most women who work in places like this members of Triads?”

  “You’ve been watching too many Chow Yun-Fat movies,” she said, obviously attempting to gloss over the truth.

  “Come on, Veronica,” he said. “The Triads are acting as lifeboats for people opposed to living in a Communist country. I know they are illegally helping people to emigrate to other countries. You believe they will get you out, or at the very least protect you from … whatever. Am I right?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Veronica, you can trust me. I know you’re vowed to secrecy, but you have nothing to worry about. I already know everything about it, you see. I know that Mr. Li Xu Nan is the Cho Kun of the Dragon Wing Society.”

  Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe what Bond had just said. She was stunned and afraid.

  “Veronica, it’s all right,” Bond said earnestly. “Really.”

  “Sunni,” she said.

  “What?”

  “That’s my real name. I shouldn’t be telling you this. I could get in a lot of trouble.”

  “Sunni?”

  She nodded. “Sunni Pei.”

  “That’s a pretty name.”

  She leaned closer again. “How about that private dance now?” She was attempting to change the subject and get back to business.

  “Not yet, Sunni. I promise I’ll pay you for a dance in a few minutes. But first I need a favour.”

  “I don’t know …”

  “I want to meet Mr. Li.”

  She shook her head almost violently. “That’s impossible. No one meets the Cho Kun.”

  Bond was right. She did know him.

  “Doesn’t he come here every now and then? Will he come in here today?”

  “I don’t know … look, I don’t know who you’re talking about, anyway.” She suddenly seemed very frightened. She looked around, hoping no one was near enough to hear what they were saying.

  “Why not?” Bond asked. “Li Xu Nan is just another businessman.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Stop it! Be quiet!” she exclaimed in a whisper.

  “You know him, don’t you?”

  “No,” she said. “I know who he is, that’s all. He comes in most afternoons. How do you know he’s a Dragon Head?”

  “I’m in the media,” Bond said. “I have my sources.”

  She was shaking with fear now. Bond was afraid he might have gone too far, too soon.

  “Look, Sunni,” he said. “It’s all right. You won’t get into trouble. I want to interview him for my newspaper. I want to get his views on the handover and how it will affect his businesses. He can remain anonymous—it doesn’t matter to me—all my headline has to read is: Triad Leader Speaks Out. It’ll make a great story!”

  “He will never admit being Cho Kun. Any association with a Triad is illegal in Hong Kong.”

  “I know that. I don’t expect him to admit a thing.”

  “I don’t know how I can help …”

  “Just point him out to me when he comes in.”

  “He might not come in today.”

  “Well, I shall be here every day until he does. Now … how about that dance?”

  When he said that, she smiled again. “You want to go to a private room?”

  Bond nodded.

  “It will cost you 1400 Hong Kong dollars.”

  “I’m sure it will be worth every penny,” he said.

  Sunni seemed to forget the subject of their earlier conversation. She stood up, took hold of his hand, and led him to one side of the club and into a small room. She shut the door and gestured for him to sit on a chair against the wall. She took his money and tucked it into a small purse she placed on the floor.

  “Just relax and enjoy the show,” she said. She punched a button on a tape deck set into the wall. Music with a beat filled the room
.

  Sunni Pei then began a slow, sensuous dance in front of Bond. She stared into his eyes the entire time, smiling every now and then. She moved well. She might have had professional dance training, but didn’t need it for what she was doing. All she needed was sex appeal and attitude, and Sunni Pei had plenty of both.

  Bond watched her, captivated. Never having gone in much for strippers, he admitted to himself that she was something special. Her beauty was extraordinary, though once again it was the intellect behind her seduction that made her so appealing. He found that he wasn’t playing the British tourist in search of a good time anymore. He was really enjoying this.

  Sunni deftly undid her cheongsam and removed it. Underneath she had on nothing but a black satin bra and matching bikini panties. Her navel was pierced with a small, thin gold ring. She slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders, unsnapped it and tossed it into Bond’s lap. She laughed. Her breasts were the size of apples, firm and natural. Her nipples were erect; she frankly enjoyed playing the exhibitionist. A few beats later, she pulled her black panties down and lifted one long leg out of them. She stepped gracefully out of them, then stood over Bond. Her legs spread wide, she straddled his lap and moved her breasts within inches of his face. He could smell her sweet skin, which was lightly damp with sweat, and Bond felt an urge to touch her.

  She brought her face up close to Bond’s, and blew lightly around his left ear. Her lips touched his, giving him a light kiss. “You’re not supposed to touch me,” she whispered, “but I’ll let you anyway.”

  Not refusing the invitation, Bond reached up with both hands and softly ran his palms and fingertips over her back. He felt goosepimples rise on her shoulders. Her skin was unbelievably soft and smooth. He pulled her to a sitting position on his lap. She began to run her fingers through his hair and along the back of his neck; he did the same with his own hands on her body. Her eyes never left his.

  When his hands found her breasts, she gave a slight purr, then she pressed her mouth on his. They kissed, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths with curiosity and delight. She pushed her pelvis forward into his and felt his hardness there. He wanted her, but this was not the time or place. For the time being, though, he allowed the “dance” to work its wonders on him and take him along the river of fantasy that was her primary intention. She seemed to be displaying sincere affection for him. Sometimes these girls were so good at what they did that it was difficult to tell if they were acting or not. Bond’s instincts told him that she was honestly interested in him. She was having a good time, too.

  When the music ended, Sunni gave him one last quick kiss on the lips, then stood up. She found her underclothes and put them back on. Bond sat there, a little dazed. This woman would be a powerhouse in bed, he thought.

  “Did you like that?” she finally asked.

  “Quite,” Bond said. “Thank you.”

  She held out her hand. He took it and stood up. “Come on, let’s go back out … unless you want another dance?”

  Bond smiled. “Another time, Sunni.”

  “Better call me Veronica,” she warned.

  “All right.”

  She put the cheongsam back on, then they went back into the club and resumed sitting at their table.

  “Can I refill your drink?” she asked. Bond told her yes. As she got up, she whispered, “Don’t look now, but your man is sitting over there near the bar.”

  Sunni walked towards the bar and Bond glanced over. Three or four tables were set inside a small section surrounded by a rail, apparently a “reserved” VIP area. At one of these tables sat a Chinese man in a business suit. On either side of him were two larger men in suits—the bodyguards.

  From this distance, it was difficult to tell how old Li Xu Nan was. He appeared to be fairly young, perhaps in his early- to mid-thirties. He was sipping a drink and conversing with one of the hostesses.

  Sunni brought back another martini and sat down.

  “So that’s Mr. Li,” Bond said. “He seems young.”

  Sunni shrugged. “What did you expect? An ageing don like in the Mafia?”

  The door to the nightclub opened and three men entered. It wasn’t until they entered the private section, removed their hats, and sat down at Li’s table that Bond recognized them. Or rather, he recognized two of them.

  All three men had white hair and pinkish-white skin. They all wore sunglasses. They were the albino Chinese he had seen in Macau! Now that was interesting!

  “Do you know those three men?” Bond asked.

  Sunni glanced over at them. “No. They’re strange, aren’t they? Albino brothers, it looks like.”

  “That’s unusual in this part of the world, isn’t it?”

  “I should say so.” She turned back to him. “Sure you don’t want another dance?”

  “Later, Sunn—Veronica.” Bond’s attention was focused on Li and his visitors. He appeared to be giving them instructions of some kind. Who were these three men? Members of the Dragon Wing Society? Musclemen? Even though their backs were to him, Bond was able to discern some visual differences. They were each of different builds and weights. He thought of them as Tom, Dick, and Harry. Tom was the heaviest, probably about 240 pounds. Dick was Bond’s size—tall and slim. Harry was smaller in stature and the most animated.

  After a few minutes, the three albinos nodded, stood, and left the nightclub. Li remained sitting at the table with his two bodyguards.

  Bond removed a business card and pen from his pocket. He wrote a message on the back.

  “Sunni,” he said, “please deliver this to Mr. Li.” He handed her 1000 Hong Kong dollars. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me this evening.” He gave her another 2000 dollars. “And this is for the dance.”

  She looked at the money in disbelief. “James, thank you! You don’t …”

  “Hush,” he said. “You’re wonderful. You’re beautiful and a pleasure to talk to. I hope to see you again soon.”

  She nodded and said, “I do, too.” She kissed him on the cheek, stood up and walked slowly to Li Xu Nan’s table with Bond’s card in hand.

  NINE

  INTERVIEW WITH A DRAGON

  SUNNI APPROACHED LI XU NAN CAUTIOUSLY AND SUBMISSIVELY HANDED him the card. He looked at it and said something to her. She pointed to Bond. Li’s gaze shifted over to him. It was cold and calculating. Bond could see that he could not believe that the Englishman would have the audacity to make contact with him. Li barked an order to one of his thugs. The large man nodded and walked across the dance floor towards Bond.

  When he got to Bond’s table, he said, “Mr. Li say you got big nose. But he also say you got big balls. He will talk to you. Come to table.”

  Bond followed the man to Li’s table. The other bodyguard held out a chair and Bond sat across from the Cho Kun of the Dragon Wing Society. Li Xu Nan had neatly cut black hair and cold brown eyes. There was a two-inch scar above his left eyebrow, which managed to put years on his baby-faced features. With the appropriate clothing and posture, Li Xu Nan could pass either for a man of forty or a youngster of nineteen. Regardless of his age, he exuded an aura of self-confidence, charisma, and great power.

  Bond spoke in Cantonese. “Mr. Li, I am grateful for this opportunity to talk to you.” He imagined that Li Xu Nan probably did not like to speak English.

  “Your card says you would like to interview me for a story about Hong Kong businesses and the handover to China,” replied Li in Cantonese. He had a pleasant voice. “I do not usually do this, Mr. Bond. If you were from a British paper I would have you thrown out of the club. But I have some things I would like to say. My name will be kept out of this?”

  “Absolutely, if that’s what you prefer,” Bond said. He produced a small notepad and pen from his jacket pocket. “Let’s begin with your business. I know you’re a successful man here, but I’m not totally familiar with everything you do. Can you enlighten me?”

  The man lit a cigarette and offered
one to Bond who politely refused. Then Li began to talk. He clearly thought carefully about every phrase before he spoke.

  “I am a businessman, Mr. Bond. My father, Li Chen Tam, was also a businessman. I inherited most of my enterprises from him. He came to Hong Kong in 1926 as a young boy, a refugee from the civil wars in China at that time. He worked very hard from humble beginnings. His first business was selling dumplings on the street. He fortunately joined forces with colleagues and created his own restaurant. A little later, he and his partners established a currency exchange operation. He got into the entertainment industry in the 1950s, just when Hong Kong became the holiday spot for American GIs fighting the Korean War. It was with the opening of nightclubs and more restaurants that he made his fortune. By the time he died, he was a millionaire.”

  “And all of it is yours, now?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Are you the only son?”

  “I am the only son,” Li said.

  “And I suppose your son will inherit from you?”

  “I am not married.”

  Bond scribbled notes as the man spoke. He played the role of journalist well.

  “How do you think the changeover will affect your business?” he asked.

  “It is difficult to say. There are optimists who believe that things will remain the same. I hate the communists, but I have to retain a positive outlook towards my own future. We all hope that the mainland Chinese will gain a new perspective on Hong Kong once they are in power.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hong Kong is very capitalist. That goes against the very nature of China’s doctrines. At the same time, Hong Kong offers a tremendous opportunity for China. If they allow Hong Kong to continue in its ways, it could be the first step towards democracy in China. China has promised to keep the structure in place for fifty years. What happens after that? Who knows … If they are happy with the wealth that Hong Kong will undoubtedly bring them, I imagine that nothing will change. On the other hand, China may feel that having a westernized, capitalist port is hypocritical. They might think they have lost face and are selling out to the West. They may crush Hong Kong’s capitalism. That would be a terrible thing.”