The PA gave a flustered protest as he stood in the doorway and attempted to stop Mann from getting through. He hadn’t a hope in hell of stopping him and he knew it. They had met on a few occasions and they weren’t pleasant memories for the PA. Now CK allowed him to save face. ‘Let him enter.’
He shrieked as Mann’s shoulder caught him and knocked him back against the doorframe.
‘Sorry,’ Mann grinned, pulling him upright by his tie. ‘Didn’t see you there.’
Mann stood in the entrance and looked across the dimly lit office: plush, chrome, cool black and dark mahogany, a mix of carved Chinese furniture and elegant Western style. Lamps lit the enclaves: calculated chic. The cold in the room hit Mann full frontal; it was like a fridge.
Mann’s Armani soles made no sound as he walked across the black wood floor. The room was silent except for the low growl of the oxygen machine as it sucked in air, re-oxygenated it, and blew it out in an exasperated ‘Pah’.
CK turned from the window just long enough to gesture that Mann should sit.
Now, as he leant back in the cool folds of the black Italian chair and felt it cradle him like a baby, he was not sure he should have come. His jet black hair fell as a broken crow’s wing across his espresso pool eyes. In this chair, in this place, he found some comfort. Here he had something real and alive to hate, not a ghost, not a memory, not a nightmare. He had CK. Mann sat back in the chair and rocked gently. He turned his head towards the oxygen machine. He breathed in deeply as it breathed out. Pah.
CK turned away from the window and came to sit opposite Mann. Like everything about the room, the polished black mahogany desk was uncluttered by personal touches: a writing block, a laptop, but no photos of family. CK began slowly nodding his head as if answering an unspoken question. His expression hardly ever changed, only his eyes betrayed his humour; they changed from bitter chocolate to churned-up riverbed green.
Mann looked across at his enemy.
‘The Outcasts…ring a bell? The new branch of the Wo Shing Shing. You recruiting from the kindergarten now, CK? From the minorities? What’s going on? You running short of people to recruit?’
CK gave a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘I do not want to talk about such petty aspects of business. I know nothing of street matters. I do not handle recruitment. I leave that to others. But there will always be those marginalized in society, those who need the help of their brothers. Society must look to itself for the rise of the Triads.’
Mann sat back and surveyed CK. ‘A leader must still know where his armies are at all times. It will always be his job to approve changes. You must have approved the birth of the Outcasts. Who is in charge? The rumours have it that your daughter Victoria Chan is heading it.’
‘A man can only rise to be the head of an organization by delegating, by trusting those beneath him to do their jobs. The tiers beneath him must be made strong to take his weight. The Leung Corporation is changing, expanding. We are branching out into new worlds and my daughter is part of this new generation.’
Mann pushed the fringe away from his eyes and stared back at CK. They had been enemies for as long as he could remember.
CK looked at Mann, his face shaded as he sat back in his chair. ‘What really brings you here, Inspector? If that is all you are here to ask me then our conversation will be a short one. I was hoping for more from you. I have been waiting for this time for many years. You have found out much that has changed in your life. You have found out about your father?’
‘I found out that he had a double life. He had another family across the world in Amsterdam. His life was a lie. He was not the man I believed him to be. You could have told me that a long time ago.’
CK leaned forwards, rested his elbows on the chair arms, and he pressed the ends of his fingers together. They interlocked in the air like long, thin, bony chopsticks. Without the sun the room had become dark, heavy, brooding.
‘I have watched and waited over the years, hoping that one day you would come to me with the knowledge of who you are and who you were destined to be. Yes. I could have told you but it is always better to allow a man to follow his own path.’
‘Yeah.’ Mann turned away and allowed his eyes the comfort of the darkened room. He spoke quietly. ‘Well, let me tell you. It’s not a path I ever wanted to travel. I was happier in ignorance. I wish I had never found out what kind of man he really was.’
‘And what kind do you think he was?’
Mann shook his head and smiled ruefully. ‘If I said he was a personal friend of Mother Teresa, a defender of human rights and a generous benefactor of the poor, would that do?’
‘I could say yes but we’d both be lying.’
Amusement came into CK’s eyes. CK rarely smiled. He was not a man to give in to pointless or telling gestures. In the Triad world showing emotions was considered a weakness. Every movement he made was calculated to give away as little as possible to his enemy. Mann understood and he played the same game. But CK had practised it for longer and Mann’s quick temper always let him down in the end. It was fast to flare. But at full flame, it turned ice cold, his body slowed, his pulse barely ticked over. It was then that he could kill calmly and methodically if he had to, and he had to sometimes. Justice came in many forms. Over the years he had come close to killing CK many times.
‘What he was…’ CK continued, ‘…was a clever man with a shrewd eye for business. But he was troubled. He was a man with his feet in two worlds. He was a man whose emotions overtook him sometimes and he made mistakes.’
‘He was a Triad: greedy, self-serving and worst of all he was naive. He was a fool who played with fire and got cremated.’
‘No, you are wrong. He was a genius. He was a clever entrepreneur. He saw the wisdom of belonging to a great organization.’
Mann looked away in disgust.
CK remained calm as he returned to nodding slowly, deliberately. ‘You need to rethink your mindset, Inspector. Triads merely adjust to their environment. They are a reflection of society and cater to its needs. If handled correctly a Triad organization can do much good for the community it serves. There is no denying that it can also further an individual’s career. Your father was proof of that. It is a pity his mind warped in the end and it went badly for him.’
Mann counted to three as he took in a breath, held it for three then expired slowly. His heart rate slowed. ‘My father realized his mistake and was executed when he tried to leave the society.’
CK inclined his head. ‘Of course. When one joins a society, one pledges allegiance to his brothers until death. It is an ancient oath that must be honoured.’
‘There’s nothing honourable in belonging to an organization whose main purpose is to launder money, peddle drugs and sell people.’ Mann stared coldly across at CK.
CK leaned forward, over the desk. ‘Tell me, Inspector Mann, your loyalty in the Hong Kong Police must be in question, is it not? Son of a Triad…who would trust him?’
Mann did not answer. His head was freezing, his hands hot.
‘Your father’s assets continue to grow after his death. The time has come for you to step into his shoes. You will be a better Triad than he ever was.’ CK’s eyes turned the colour of seaweed. ‘There are those waiting who will grow tired of waiting…’ He leaned forward. ‘If you wait too long they will come looking for you.’
‘Let them come.’ Mann felt the cold calm take him over. He leaned forward in his chair, no longer cradled. ‘I feel the mortal shame of having a father who was a Triad. I have nothing now to live for except my honour and serving those who need me. Warn those that would come looking for me: I fear life more than death and I will kill them.’