The Scottish Banker of Surabaya - By Ian Hamilton Page 0,101

shooting an unarmed man in the head? Hardly a contribution to mankind.”

“Every society has its own morality, its own code of ethics.”

“I never thought I was part of that society,” Ava said.

He glanced at her and she saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes. She hoped it was only because of her tone. “You are a brave girl. Just think of it in that light,” said Uncle.

“I didn’t feel so brave the way I left Surabaya,” Ava said.

“There was no choice.”

“I wonder if our Vietnamese clients would look at it that way,” Ava said, refusing to concede her fallibility.

“They may not have to,” Uncle said.

Ava looked across the table at him and saw a little smile playing on his lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said as the owner arrived, ready to take their order.

“I feel like eating tonight,” Uncle said, ordering a plate of noodles with beef drenched in XO sauce, steamed broccoli with oyster sauce, and a San Miguel beer.

“Bring extra noodles — I’ll share, and jasmine tea,” she said. When the owner left, she turned back to Uncle. “What did you mean about our clients?”

He shrugged, still looking mischievous. “After we talked earlier today, I did some thinking and then I made some phone calls. I spoke to an old friend on the Hong Kong police force, and he put me onto a mutual friend in the Security Bureau . . . Men I trust, you understand. Men I really trust.”

“Men you trust,” she repeated as their drinks arrived.

Uncle took a deep swig of his beer, like a man who hadn’t had a drink in months. “I mentioned the ’Ndrangheta to them and their interest was immediately piqued. When I explained — very generally — what you had uncovered, they became quite excited. I then put a proposal to them, and while their reaction was not exactly what I expected, it was close enough to make things interesting,” he said, and took another pull of beer.

Ava sipped her tea. She had no clue where he was headed.

Their food arrived, the noodles on one of the biggest platters she had ever seen, slivers of beef piled high, almost glittering under the combination of XO sauce and overhead lighting. The owner stood to one side, admiring his kitchen’s handiwork. This wasn’t a normal serving, Ava knew, not even a normal double serving. And the ratio of beef to noodles was outlandish. Uncle nodded his thanks and then said, “I will have another beer.”

“Should you?” Ava asked, and instantly regretted it.

“It is that kind of night,” he said.

They dug into the noodles. Uncle filled his bowl, extracted a slice of beef, and held it in the air, examining it as if it was a rarity. His second beer arrived before he had finished his first mouthful. “We may not have to abandon our clients,” he said as he set the empty beer bottle to one side and picked up the other. “At least, that is the message I got from my friends.”

“I don’t understand,” Ava said, helping herself to noodles and beef, her appetite surfacing despite her discomfort with the way the evening had gone thus far.

“The information you got from the bank — it has value.”

“Value to whom? We’re going to blackmail the Italians?”

“Of course not. We need to stay far away from the Italians. The information, according to my friends, has the greatest value to police. They think — in fact, they are convinced — that we should be able to sell it to a police organization.”

Ava said, “Why would the Hong Kong police have any interest?”

“Everyone is interested in the ’Ndrangheta, although not that much is known about them, I was surprised to learn. There was an assumption, certainly among the Hong Kong police, that they are not that well organized. When I started to talk about the bank, about the transfers, about the real estate business, it really intrigued my friends. They thought — and they told me the assumption is commonplace — that the ’Ndrangheta was a hundred or so loosely knit families. They had no idea there was this kind of structure to them.”

“And they are willing to pay for this kind of information?”

“No, not them. They think we need to talk to the police forces in the countries where you have found proof they are operating — Italy, of course, and then the U.S., Venezuela, Canada, Indonesia.”

Ava poured herself more tea, noticing that Uncle had almost finished his