The black phone on the oriental antique table in Lee Chang’s residence rang once before his part-time cook, part-time housekeeper picked up. She walked to his office at the far corner of the house and announced the caller. A minute passed before Lee Chang picked up the phone.
“Lee Chang, this is Peter Winthrop.”
“Good evening, Peter. How are you? I trust your clients got the shorts you ordered last week. It kept us pretty busy for a few days.”
“Yes, I understand they got the shorts on time.”
“What can I do for you? I hope it is not another rush order. We did what we could with that order but another one will put us behind on other business.”
“No, nothing of the sort.” Peter had bigger things on his mind than helping a retailer fill their shelves. “I’m coming to town in a week and wanted to arrange the usual companionship, with your permission of course. I wanted to take Wei Ling on a boat trip for the weekend.”
Lee Chang swallowed hard and said the first thing that came to mind. “Actually Mr. Winthrop, Wei Ling returned to her hometown in China two days ago. She won’t be coming back. Family problems,” he added with definitiveness. “I can get you another girl, or girls.”
The chess game began and Peter was ready to put Lee Chang into check. “Do you have a forwarding address for Wei Ling? I would like to send her something.”
“Let me look around and see if I can locate it for you. I understand your desire to keep in touch with her.”
“Please, let me know when you find her address. I will call before I leave next week and let you know the specifics of my itinerary.”
“Fine,” Lee answered nervously before hanging up with a stream of goodbyes. He thought about the girl tied to the bed one floor under his feet. The goose that was about to lay the golden egg. It was time for the goose to have breakfast. ***
Peter put the pieces together in his mind. Wei Ling was pregnant and the odds were good that she was still in Saipan. Peter considered all the possibilities. “Lee Chang,” Peter said aloud. “What are you up to?” Inside, he knew the answer. The question was what to do about it.
The CEO sipped his scotch and thought in silence, his Rolodex still on the desk, opened to the “C” section of names. He flipped the Rolodex from Lee Chang to Lee Chang’s father. Peter hadn’t spoken to C.F. Chang in months, since the last negotiation between a textile company in South Carolina that was looking to manufacture bulletproof vests overseas. But C.F. Chang and Peter Winthrop kept tabs on each other, the senior Chang with his fleet of special interest bribes and lobbyists, and Peter Winthrop with more personal intelligence gathering via trips to Beijing and Shanghai.
Peter dialed the number and was connected to C.F. Chang’s personal line.
The Chang patriarch answered the phone with a traditional Chinese greeting and Peter replied in kind before breaking into English.
“Mr. Chang, this is Peter Winthrop calling from Washington, D.C. How are you this morning?” The effort to recognize that C.F. Chang was just starting his day halfway around the world did not go unnoticed.
“Mr. Winthrop, it has been too long. How is your evening in D.C.?”
“Fine, fine,” Peter replied. “How are your sons?”
“They are very well,” C.F. Chang responded. He knew that Peter didn’t have any real family to ask about, so he did the next best thing. “How’s business?”
“It’s shaping up to be a very profitable year.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“I apologize for calling so early, but I’m afraid I have a serious matter to discuss.”
“Please, Mr. Winthrop. What is it?”
“I want to inquire about an employee of yours at Chang Industries in Saipan.”
C.F. Chang’s heart rate increased. His shirt felt tight around his neck.
“Have you spoken with my son? I’m sure Lee can assist you far more easily than I can.”
“Yes, Mr. Chang, indeed I have. Unfortunately, he was unable to help. I understand Lee runs things on Saipan, but I think you might be able to assist with this particular employee.”
“I can certainly look into it.”
“The employee I’m inquiring about is named Wei Ling,” Peter said with measured pace. He could almost hear C.F. Chang’s heart through the phone.
“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Well, this girl, Wei Ling, is unique.”
C.F. Chang swallowed harder.
Peter continued, winging it sentence-by-sentence as the words came to mind. “I have gotten to know Wei over the last two years during my visits to the island. She is very sharp. Good business sense. I wanted to look into the possibility of having her come to the U.S. I wanted to see about employing her at my company here in D.C. She could help with many of the Asian transactions our firm handles. I didn’t mention any of this to your son, as I thought it was appropriate to discuss the specifics with you first.”
“Mr. Winthrop, as you know, my family has manufacturing interests throughout Southeast Asia. I couldn’t possibly know all the girls by name. But with all due respect, I question the ability of one of the seamstresses to help your firm. Though I can’t speak specifically to the one you mentioned, most of the girls are uneducated.”
“Just the same. I would like to pursue this opportunity, if possible, and with your blessing. As I mentioned, she is very sharp and has a surprisingly good command of English. She learned almost everything from tapes, talking to the other seamstresses, and of course from TV on Saipan. Only one of my current staff here in D.C. speaks Chinese.”
“I can see your interest. Perhaps I could introduce someone else who can meet your needs.”
“Thank you for the kind offer. But I would like to look into the possibility with Wei Ling first. Your son did mention that she had recently returned to China to deal with a family matter. He is not expecting her back and doesn’t know how to reach her.”
“I will ask my son to look harder.”
“Please do. In any case, I would like to contact her.”
The silence on the end of the line told Peter all he needed to know. ***
Chow Ying moved across town and checked into a dive hotel in a district where he used to run with the other creatures of the night. Mahjong, drinks, and street fights. It was a good time in his life, the education of the street forced upon him by a bus crash that killed his parents. He felt refreshed to be back in the old neighborhood. The same streets where he had spent his formative years running numbers, fencing bootlegged CDs, and skirting with the law in a country where they handed out the death penalty like breath mints at a garlic restaurant.
He walked down the street in the Hua neighborhood and a feeling of homesickness washed over him. Some of the shops he remembered were still there, some refurbished, some long since leveled. The sun peeked down the alleys and through the shirts and pants that hung on clotheslines running between neighboring buildings.
Two blocks past the small park where the local senior citizens were having tea after their morning Tai Chi, Chow Ying shoved five yuan into a public pay phone.
“Chang Industries,” the pleasant voice answered on the other end.