The Two Sisters of Borneo (11 page)

Grandmaster Tang worked from a small two-storey brick house on a side street that ran west from Avenue Road, no more than a ten-minute walk from where Ava now lived. There were no notices or signs on the house. The Grandmaster didn’t need to advertise and he didn’t take walk-in business. If you were serious about martial arts in Toronto, you knew where to find him.

Her Richmond Hill instructor drove her there, took her to the door, and then left, bowing as he did so, when Tang opened it. He looked to be in his early forties, was about five foot six, Ava guessed, and had a slight build and gentle brown eyes. A smile played on his lips as he greeted her. His long, silky black hair was brushed back and fixed with a red rubber band.

“You’re smaller than I expected,” he said in Cantonese.

Ava didn’t know how to respond to a remark about something she couldn’t change. So she said nothing.

“Do you speak Cantonese?” he asked.

“Yes, and Mandarin.”

“Good. I would have difficulty explaining bak mei in English.”

“Use the language that makes it easiest.”

He nodded. “What do you know about bak mei?” he asked, continuing in Cantonese.

“Nothing.”

“Then I will tell you. Come into my house,” he said, stepping aside so she could pass.

The room he directed her to would have been the living room in a normal home. This one was bare, with plain white walls and a hardwood floor that looked worn in places. The windows were covered with black curtains. Ava took off her jacket and her sneakers.

“First, show me what you’ve been taught,” he said.

For fifteen minutes, and then fifteen minutes more, at Tang’s urging, Ava went through the routine her teacher in Richmond Hill had choreographed. When she was done, Tang said, “You’re agile and quick . . . but are you agile and quick enough?”

Before Ava could answer, the middle knuckle of Tang’s right forefinger was one inch from her forehead. She hadn’t seen him move. One second she was looking at him, the next all she could see was his hand in front of her face.

“That is called the phoenix-eye fist,” he said. “It is central to bak mei. You will need to learn how to take all the power you can generate from your entire body — from the movement of your hips, from the muscles in your shoulders and arms, from the speed in your legs — and focus that energy and power into a single knuckle.”

“I understand,” she said.

“Bak mei is initially defensive. It is fought at close range. The objective is to first block any attacking blow and then counter with deadly force,” he said, stepping back, his hands flowing to his sides. “We use our hands primarily; the only kicking we do is below the waist.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

His hand shot out again, but this time Ava tilted her head slightly to one side and blocked its path with her arm.

He smiled. “You will need to learn to move with the grace of a tiger, but also with the power of a dragon.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

For five years she had made the trek to his house once a week for their sessions. That ended when she started university, but she worked out two or three times a week on her own, and during the summer and holidays she went to visit the Grandmaster more often. By the time she was in her mid-twenties and his hair was beginning to streak with grey, he said to her, “You are my equal now.”

Ava left her condo an hour after Maria’s departure. She walked to Tang’s house bundled up in the Steinum sweater and her Adidas jacket, with a woollen tuque on her head. During the week, Tang taught classes from four in the afternoon until ten in the evening. Ava had always gone in the morning, and in recent years without an appointment. There was a bell at the front door. If he was at home and available, he would answer and Ava would be admitted. If he wasn’t, then she would turn around and walk back to her condo. She could think of only a handful of times she hadn’t been welcomed.

He opened the door after the first ring and greeted her as if he had seen her the day before.

“Come in,” he said.

She exercised by herself for half an hour, working out the kinks and feeling her way back into her body. He joined her then, gradually increasing the speed and intensity of his attacks, becoming her foe. She parried and counterattacked, trying to rid her mind of any thought processes, relying simply on reflexes and instinct and the core technique he had implanted in her over so many years.

Twice he penetrated her defences. Both times he stepped back and smiled. “You haven’t been practising,” he said.

“Not enough,” she said. “I’d like to do another session right now. And then I want to come back tomorrow, and the day after.”

“I will be here.”

It was just after eleven when Ava got back to the condo. She made herself a coffee, then spooned out a bowl of rice from the cooker that sat next to the hot-water Thermos. She took the mug and bowl to the kitchen table, opened her computer, and went online.

Amanda had emailed her and May Ling from Borneo with a report. The $5 million had arrived from China and been deposited in Borneo Furniture’s bank. She and Chi-Tze had met with bank officials and had been assured that they had the bank’s full and continuing support. Then she and the two sisters met with several of their key raw-material suppliers to calm their concerns about payment and to reactivate the supply lines. Her final meeting of the day was with the lawyer May Ling had hired; neither of the sisters attended. The brothers had responded to the accusations through their own lawyer and were threatening to countersue for libel.

Amanda attached a story that had run that afternoon in the
Daily Express
in English and was repeated almost word for word in the
Overseas Daily Chinese News
. Their lawyer, who had a nephew working at the
Express
and a cousin at the
News
, had planted both the stories.
The stories state quite boldly that the brothers are being sued for large-scale fraud, and mentioned that their banks have been asked to freeze their accounts. They also say, thank goodness, that the company is not at any risk and intends to operate as usual,
Amanda wrote.
Our lawyer is very good.

Ava replied,
I’m just glad you’re there. I’m in Toronto for a day or two. You can reach me by email or phone.

As she went to close her computer, a new email popped into her inbox. The name
Smits
was attached to it.

I spent most of today looking into your problem. I think I’ve found some information and a contact that look promising. Without going into detail, it may cost some money for me to acquire certain files. 10 000 euros should be enough. Do I have your permission to spend the money? Let me know as soon as you can. I find that snitches get nervous if they have to wait too long. Sincerely, Jacob.

Ava paused. He had moved much more quickly than she’d expected, and his request was suspicious. Did she trust him enough to send 10,000 euros? She reread the email and realized that he hadn’t actually asked her to send the money.
Good news. How will I send you the money?
she wrote.

Don’t worry about that. If you agree to spend it, I’ll front it. It will save time,
was his instant reply.

Ava stared at her computer screen. She tried to remember a time when a hired hand had financed any part of a job she and Uncle were on. She couldn’t think of a single case.
Spend whatever you think is necessary. We need to get to the truth. By the way, I’ve left Amsterdam and I’m back in Canada. Phone or text me if anything breaks,
she wrote.

Her initial impression of Jacob Smits as a capable man strengthened. The only thing she couldn’t help wondering was whether he was too good to be true.

It was a half-hour drive from Ava’s downtown condo to the dim sum restaurant her mother had chosen in the northern suburb of Richmond Hill. For years her mother’s restaurant of choice had been the Lucky Season in Times Square. There had to be at least five hundred Chinese restaurants in the Richmond Hill–Thornhill–Markham corridor that housed at least half of Toronto’s population of more than half a million Chinese. Ava had once counted thirty restaurants in one mall. So her mother’s choice of Lucky Season wasn’t because of lack of options. The food had to be good for the restaurant to survive, and she knew it had been around for more than fifteen years.

She had to circle the parking lot twice before finding a spot for her Audi A6. As she walked through the restaurant doors she saw her mother at the hostess stand, chatting with a woman in a blue suit with a name tag pinned to the lapel. Jennie Lee spoke to everyone. Every sales associate and server in every store and restaurant she frequented was asked his or her name. And if Jennie went back to the establishment more than once, she soon knew about their husbands and kids too. It was a trait that had bypassed both Ava and her sister, Marian; they had no interest in casual acquaintances. They also didn’t get the preferential treatment that seemed to follow their mother wherever she went.

The hostess’s name was Anne, and she was smiling and nodding as Jennie spoke. Ava looked at her mother and felt a surge of pride. Her jet-black hair was cut short, shaved at the nape of her neck. From a distance she looked like a well-maintained woman in her early to mid-forties, but she was dressed a little younger, in black Donna Karan jeans, a red cashmere sweater, and black Gucci leather slip-ons.

Ava was dressed in her black Adidas tracksuit. She wore no makeup, and her hair was tied back with a brown scrunchie. When Jennie saw her, she frowned. Ava smiled and reached towards her for a hug and a kiss.

“I didn’t have time to change after my workout,” she lied.

Behind Ava a large crowd had gathered, waiting for a table. Jennie turned to Anne. “This is my daughter Ava, the one I was telling you about. We can go in now.”

“Right this way,” Anne said, leading them past the throng.

They were seated at a table near a window that looked out onto the mall’s parking lot. Ava could see six cars circling as they looked for a spot.

Jennie leaned across the table and took Ava’s hand in her own. “I’m so happy you’re here. Do you know how long you’re staying? This mah-jong game is the only thing I have on my schedule for the next few days.”

“Uncle is in Shanghai with Sonny on business. I’ll probably head back to Hong Kong late tomorrow or the day after.”

“How is he?”

“I don’t know how he can get any thinner.”

“I mean his spirits.”

“On the surface he seems content enough. He tells me he’s come to terms with the situation, though there are times when I sense there are things he can’t come to grips with. He becomes quite withdrawn.”

“Would we be any different?” Jennie asked, reaching for the dim sum list.

“No, of course not, and I doubt that I would ever have his level of composure.”

“Me neither. I have to tell you that I enjoyed his company when I was in Hong Kong in December. There is something almost serene about him. We don’t know what’s going on inside him, of course, but he has this ability to make everyone around him feel calm in his presence.”

“He enjoyed your company as well.”

“Really?”

“Yes, he said so quite specifically,” Ava said. “But don’t ask me to go into detail. You don’t need more compliments.”

Jennie looked pleased enough. “I’m hungry. Shall we order?”

“Let’s.”

“Hot and sour soup?”

“Please.”

“The fried octopus is really good, and I think the chicken feet are the best in the city.”

“Order what you want.”

Jennie ticked off various boxes and then held the list in the air. Within seconds a server had taken it and placed their order, leaving a copy on the table so that each dish could be marked off as delivered.

“When I was spending that time alone with him in Hong Kong, he spoke about you,” Jennie said. “He said he thought of you as his daughter and asked me to forgive him if he was being presumptuous.”

“Well, I am closer to him than any man I’ve ever known, including Daddy.”

A pot of tea was placed on the table. Jennie reached for it and poured for both of them. “Speaking of Daddy, how was the wedding?”

“It was wonderful,” Ava said, tapping the middle finger of her right hand on the table in thanks.

“And how was Elizabeth?”

Ava paused. She knew her mother would be acutely sensitive about anything she might say about her father’s first wife. “She was gracious,” she said finally.

“She couldn’t have been happy that you had such a prominent role.”

“Her sisters weren’t pleased, that’s certain, but she was quite polite.”

“She does have class.”

“Uncle said that was something you have in common with her.”

Jennie glanced at Ava, her eyes saying that she wasn’t quite sure Ava was being truthful. “How did she look?” she finally asked.

“Distinguished.”

“Did she speak to you?”

“Yes, and she told me to tell you that you have done a wonderful job raising your children.”

“After what you did for her son — and for that family — what else could she say?”

“She could have said nothing,” Ava said as the hot and sour soup arrived.

Jennie spooned soup into both of their bowls. Just as Ava was taking her first sip, her cellphone rang. She looked at the incoming number and saw the country code for China, but the rest of the numbers were unfamiliar. She let it go to voicemail.

“You aren’t answering your phone these days?” her mother asked.

“Some things don’t seem quite as urgent as they used to.”

“What are you going to do when Uncle is gone? Stay in that business?”

“No. I’ve entered into a partnership with May Ling Wong and Amanda. We’re investing in some companies together, including one that’s having a few problems.”

“In Asia?”

“Yes.”

“Is it wise to invest your money in places so far away?”

“Are you asking me if I can trust May Ling?”

Jennie started to reply but stopped as plates of chicken feet and fried octopus were placed on the table. She let the subject drop and reached for the octopus with her chopsticks.

They were starting in on two new dishes — har gow and radish cake — when Ava’s phone rang again. It was the same Chinese number.

“Answer that, please,” her mother said.

She did with a brisk “
Wei
.” The caller began to speak, the words tumbling together. Ava thought the voice sounded vaguely familiar, but it was breaking up so much that she could barely make out what the person was saying above the background noise of the restaurant.

“Just a minute,” she said loudly. “I have to go outside to hear you properly.”

A group of smokers was standing outside the entrance, chatting loudly in Cantonese. Ava moved down the sidewalk until the only competing noise came from traffic in the parking lot.

“Okay, I can hear you now.”

“Ava, this is May Ling.”

“I didn’t recognize the phone number.”

“I’m calling from my hotel room in Guangzhou. I’m here on business. I flew in late this evening,” she said.

The line was clear. It was May Ling’s voice that was breaking. “You sound terrible,” Ava said.

“It’s Borneo.”

“What about Borneo?” Ava heard May Ling draw a deep breath, then another. “May, what’s happened?”

“It’s Amanda and Chi-Tze . . . They’ve been hurt.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t have all the details,” she said slowly, her voice catching again. “I’ve been back and forth on the phone with Ah-Pei for the past half-hour. She’s at the hospital, and she’s so emotional that I had trouble making sense of everything she said.”

“What has she told you?” Ava pressed.

“After work, Amanda and Chi-Tze went out for dinner together downtown. When they were leaving the restaurant, they were attacked in the parking lot. According to Ah-Pei, at least eight people saw what happened. None of them went to help.”

“How does she know that?”

“She found out about the attack from the restaurant’s owner. He knows the sisters well, and he called Ah-Pei as soon as it happened. Right after that he called for the police and an ambulance.”

“How badly are they hurt?”

“I don’t know,” May said, her voice cracking.

“Was it an attempted robbery?” Ava asked.

“No,” May Ling said. “It was a beating.”

“That’s what Ah-Pei told you?”

“Yes.”

“How can she be so sure?”

“The restaurant owner spoke to the people who saw it happen. He told Ah-Pei that two men were hitting them with bats, shouting obscenities at them.”

Ava leaned back against the wall and shivered in her nylon jacket. “And Ah-Pei has no idea how hurt they are?” she asked.

“Ah-Pei hasn’t seen them, so she really doesn’t know. The restaurant owner made it sound like there had to be broken bones, and there was certainly blood. He thought Amanda was unconscious when they put her in the ambulance,” May Ling said, her voice quavering.

“May, don’t cry.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing every time Ah-Pei calls. She’s very upset, but she’s still calmer than I am.”

“We need to find out how the girls are.”

“All I can get out of Ah-Pei is that they’re in surgery.”

“Is she at the hospital by herself?”

“No, she has a cousin with her, who’s just as vague.”

“Where are her brothers?”

May paused. “Ah-Pei says she tried to reach them and couldn’t. Those sons of bitches.”

“Let’s not go there, May. Let’s not leap to that conclusion.”

“Well, who else could it be?”

“I don’t know, and right now it doesn’t matter. Look, I know it’s late there but can you reach the lawyer you hired?”

“I have his home number.”

“Then call him. Tell him to get over to the hospital — he needs to take control of the situation. He needs to calm Ah-Pei, he needs to find out exactly how the girls are, and he needs to stay there and keep communicating with you until there is nothing new to learn.”

“I’ll do that right away.”

“Good.”

“Ava, I’ve booked a flight out of here first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll be in Kota Kinabalu by mid-afternoon.”

“And I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Christ, what a mess,” May groaned.

“Who else knows about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Michael? Jack Yee?”

“God, I forgot about them.”

“So they don’t know?”

“Not unless the police or someone from the hospital called them.”

“On second thought, I can’t imagine they would know anything. Otherwise I’m quite sure that one of them would have phoned me by now.”

“Are you going to call them?”

Ava paused. “Yes, I will, but not until we know what state Amanda is in. So call that lawyer and keep in touch with me. I want to know everything.”