“An honorary position,” Uncle said, waving his hand. “It had no real power.”
Ava turned her head away, not wanting him see the incredulity on her face. “What is a Red Pole?” she muttered.
“The sharp end of a gang’s stick.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Uncle closed his eyes as if he were conjuring memories. “In the days when I was active, every gang was headed by a Mountain Master or a Dragon Head, as we were sometimes called. Each had three people reporting directly to him: a Vanguard, who organized operations; an Incense Master, who was responsible for ceremonies; and a deputy Mountain Master, who actually executed the plans. The deputy Mountain Master in turn had three people under him: the White Paper Fan, who provided financial and business advice; the Straw Sandal, who liaised among the different groups; and the Red Pole. The Red Pole was the enforcer. He was the muscle who ran the troops on the ground — the 49ers, who were the pledged members of the society, and the blue lanterns, who were like apprentices.”
“49ers?”
“Every position had a number derived from the I Ching. The Mountain Master was 489. The Red Pole was 426. The number none of us wanted to hear was 25. It was the designation for a mole that the police or some rival triad gang had planted, or for a traitor to his own gang.”
“So Lok is an enforcer?”
“Yes.”
“How many men report to him?”
“Somewhere between fifteen and twenty.”
“Uncle, can you talk to him?”
“Yes, though I am not sure what good it would do.”
“Is there anyone else you can talk to, someone who has authority over him?”
He shook his head. “The old structures have broken down. Lok is his own man.”
“But you said he reported to a deputy Mountain Master.”
She saw him hesitate and wondered if she’d slighted him by being so insistent. “Not anymore. Things are different now than they used to be. The old ways of doing business have changed and the need to be interdependent has disappeared. The large societies have moved on from moneylenders, whorehouses, and extortion. There is too much money to be made counterfeiting purses and watches, and even more to be made pirating computer software. It takes a different mentality to run that kind of business, so they have cut themselves off from the grubby stuff, handing it over to small-timers like Lok to run as they see fit. He does not report to anyone; he has no allegiances to anyone other than to himself.”
“So we have to talk to Lok.”
“We do.”
“Uncle, I don’t want to be unreasonable. He can keep some of the money. Tell him it’s my way of apologizing for Wu.”
He shook his head. “No, men like Lok do not think like that. He probably thinks the money is his by now. It will be all or it will be nothing.”
“You know best.”
He stood and walked around the table to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and then leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I will call him. Wait here,” he said.
She had no real expectation that he would be successful; she was just appreciative that he’d try. She prepared herself for disappointment, determined not to show a flicker of it. All Uncle would see was how pleased she was that he’d made the phone call.
The few minutes turned into ten and then fifteen. Ava sat at the little table, occasionally picking at the remaining snow pea tips, and despite herself starting to feel encouraged by the duration of his absence. The longer the discussion, the better her chances, she thought. That was until she saw Uncle walk back into the kitchen.
She’d known him long enough to recognize the signs: the tightening of his mouth, the slightly averted eyes, shoulders that weren’t completely square. “So it was no,” she said, making it easier for him.
“It was no,” he said as he resumed his seat.
“Thank you for trying.”
“We exchanged harsh words. He was always ignorant and he had been drinking, and Wu has been agitating him, so I think he liked the idea of my asking him for a favour. And he liked even more the fact that he could tell me to go and fuck myself without having to worry about the consequences. I was not polite in return.”
“Uncle, I’m sorry now that I even asked.”
“No, I wanted to do it.”
“Now what? What do I do?” she said, more to herself than