Nury Vittachi - The Feng Shui Detective

‘They have big area maps in the main office, when we get to the front of the queue. The upper floors tend to sell out first, so that might not be possible.’

‘If you cannot buy upper floor, I suggest buy floor five. Good feng shui. Fourth floor also good.’

‘Fourth? I thought fourth was always bad luck?’

‘No, only in Hong Kong superstition. In true feng shui, historical feng shui, four is very often a good number.’

‘That may be so, but my family are Hong Kong traditionalists. I don’t think they would let me buy anything on the fourth floor. What about the roads?’

‘Yes. I am considering Big Picture. But difficult with such bad information. There is only one road approaching. This goes northwest. But travels past gate facing northeast. There is one more road behind. But hard to tell. Not finished building it yet.’

The queue was gradually moving forwards. Just where they were standing, there was a gap in the fence, and Wong poked his head in to see a carpenter, white with sawdust, trimming a plank to fill in the hole. The man shouted something to another worker, and Wong visibly started, recognising a familiar accent.

‘Wai. Lei haih Guangzhou-dong-yan, hai-mm-hai-ah? ’ Wong said.

‘Hai, lei-la?’ the man replied in a gruff voice.

‘Bai Wan ngoh heung-ha,’ said the geomancer.

The carpenter smiled. ‘Bai Wan ngoh sek. Ngoh sing So. Ngoh dai-lo Bai Wan ju.’

Au-yeung told Joyce: ‘They are from the same heung ha-that means ancestral town. Wong is from Bai Wan, northeast of Guangzhou city. There are a lot of Guangzhou people in Hong Kong; not so many in Singapore, I think.’

Wong talked animatedly with the carpenter, and eventually stepped in through the hole in the fence and continued to fire questions at him.

The queue moved slowly forwards and Au-yeung and McQuinnie were carried along, losing sight of the feng shui master. ‘Will he be all right?’ asked Joyce.

‘Sure. He’ll fit right in. I mean…’ Au-yeung paused and gave a guilty grin. ‘I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but an oldish, craggy fellow in rumpled clothes, and, and, speaking with a strong Guangdong accent-he’s just like most of the illegal immigrant types they have working on construction sites in Hong Kong. He’ll fit in just fine. Also, he’ll be able to have a good look round. He might find out something useful to us. As long as he doesn’t get arrested or anything.’

The Hong Kong businessman opened a thermos of hot water and a pot of instant noodles. He offered to share his breakfast with her. The early start had given Joyce a queasy stomach and she decided she couldn’t eat anything. Au-yeung munched through the noodles, and then started making phone calls on his cell phone. He seemed to have an endless list of people to speak to.

Joyce stood, bored. She wished she had brought something to read. Biltong’s newspaper was all in Chinese, and seemed to be full of pictures of accidents and ambulances. She passed the time by examining the other people in the queue and trying to guess what they did. Directly behind them was a tall, shaven-headed man who kept trying to sneak in front of them, edging forwards around the sides of the queue. She caught him leering at her, his tiny eyes running over her body. He must have some villainous occupation, she decided-running a shop selling pirate VCDs, maybe.

She stood her ground to prevent him moving forwards, and was shocked when he continued to move forwards until he was actually touching her. She crossly changed places with Au-yeung.

In front of them were two women, bespectacled, smartly dressed, each with identical hairstyles. They were wearing expensive-looking designer suits, which seemed a ludicrous idea on this dusty construction site. Accountants, she decided, buying property as an investment.

‘How long will we have to wait?’ she asked when they had been standing in the slow-moving queue for almost an hour.

‘Probably another hour or so. Let me find out.’ There were several slick-looking young men in dark glasses who regularly strolled up and down the length of the queue. Au-yeung stopped one of them and spoke briefly to him in Cantonese, and then turned back to Joyce.

‘He reckons another forty minutes.’

‘Who are these young guys? The one on the left is kinda cute, I mean, if you like that sort of thing.’ She smiled, slightly embarrassed by her own comment.

‘They are people hired by the developers to help with organisation and security. You always get a few of these “aides”. I mean, if you want my honest opinion, I would say that they are almost definitely a rival group of triads themselves. But they have some link with the developer and are helping to make sure things go smoothly.’

‘Why are they walking up and down?’

‘They are just imparting information to the crowd. For instance, this guy just told me that the eight penthouse flats on both blocks have already gone. Most of the upper floors have gone, he says. There’s a twelfth-floor flat facing northeast still available. That might do us, but if that goes as well, I don’t mind lower floors. The fifth floor facing east, like Wong suggested, would be fine. Probably not too many people after them, either, so we’ve got a chance of getting one, I hope.’

After another twenty minutes passed uneventfully, Auyeung and his companion found themselves twelve places from the door to the main office. ‘Won’t be long now,’ the businessman said. ‘I wonder where Wong is?’ He was starting to become anxious, and kept turning around to see if the old geomancer was anywhere in sight.

The young men in dark glasses were standing to one side, counting the people from the door, and then moving along the queue, chatting to each buyer. This time, the conversations were more animated, and the buyers in front of them seemed to be pleased by what they heard.

Joyce watched while the young men spoke to the two be-suited women in front of them, and then swapped a few words with Bilton Au-yeung. The businessman smiled broadly.

The one that Joyce decided was attractive took off his wrap-around petrol-coloured sunglasses and caught her eye. He grinned, showing an old woman’s gold tooth unexpectedly placed in a young mouth. ‘Hello? Spik Chinese?’ he said.

‘No, sorry. Do you speak English?’ She gave him her just-slightly-interested smile.

‘No.’ He turned to Biltong and asked him something in Cantonese.

The businessman replied in the same language, and the young man instantly lost his smile, replaced his glasses and walked on.

Au-yeung turned to Joyce. ‘He was asking whether you were my girlfriend, although he didn’t use that word. I told him you were my second sister-in-law and you were due to marry an extremely wealthy businessman in the interior decoration industry next week.’

‘Why d’you say that? Did he like me? You didn’t have to put him off. He was kinda cute.’

‘Yes, but, believe me, I did you a favour. You wouldn’t want to get involved with someone like that.’

Joyce shrugged her shoulders. ‘Dunno. Whatever. I’ve always wanted to be a gangster’s moll. Guess it wouldn’t have been very romantic if we like, couldn’t speak to each other. Wish you hadn’t said I was marrying an interior decorator though. What a poncy job.’

‘Pon-si?’

‘I mean, it’s all gay men, mainly. Decorators. Gay people are cool but you can’t marry them.’

‘Ah. Well it’s different here. Certain jobs here are closely associated with the triads. Interior decoration is one of them. It’s a real tough-guy job in Hong Kong. I was basically telling him that you belonged to someone more powerful in his own line of work.’

Joyce thought about this for a moment. ‘Interior decorators are tough guys in Hong Kong? You’re having me on.’