Ian Hamilton: The wild beast of Wuhan

Ava arrived at Hong Kong International just after 3:30 p.m. to find Sonny standing by the Dragonair check-in counter, with her bag in one hand and an envelope in the other.

“Uncle has checked in and gone to the lounge,” he said. “Here is your ticket.”

She took the envelope. “You aren’t coming with us?”

“I’m not needed.”

Ava nodded, then went to a public washroom with her shopping bags and carry-on. She was still dressed in the Adidas training pants and black Giordano T-shirt she had worn from Curacao. She knew she’d have to change but wanted to wait until she was in the lounge, where she could shower and have some measure of privacy. She removed her laptop and some T-shirts and underwear from her carry-on and placed them in the new computer bag. She then pulled the tags off her new clothes and shoes and packed them neatly into her Shanghai Tang “Double Happiness” carry-on.

Twenty minutes later, Ava was checked in, through security, and walking into the Wing lounge. There was no sign of Uncle. She sat in one of the large Balzac chairs dotted around the lounge and opened her laptop. She punched “Wong Changxing” into the search engine and found multiple entries that described the man almost as a folk hero. Wong was the son of factory workers, had virtually no education, yet had built an enormous empire through a combination of unrelenting hard work, determination, foresight, and smarts — or so the official line went. The government held him up as an example of the unlimited possibilities and success available to every Chinese citizen. Ava wondered what Uncle would have to say about him.

She looked up and saw Uncle at the entrance of the lounge. He was standing at the sign-in desk, his head barely visible above the counter. Uncle was, she assumed, in his seventies or early eighties, but he had the skin and hair of a younger man. He was about the same height as she was and weighed maybe ten pounds more. He was dressed in his usual uniform: a black suit and crisp white shirt buttoned to the collar, with no tie.

She walked to the lounge entrance to greet him. He smiled when he saw her, and then frowned when he saw how she was dressed. “You need to change,” he said. “There is the dinner when we arrive.”

“Hello to you too,” she said, as she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “I have my change of clothes with me. I was waiting until you arrived before going to the washroom.”

“I just finished talking to Wuhan and it was on my mind,” he said. He reached for her hand. “It has been too long between visits. I am very happy to see you, as beautiful as ever.”

“Hardly,” she said. “But give me a few minutes and I’ll see if I can do better.”

“And I will find us a place to sit.”

In a private cubicle the size of the bathroom in her condo in Yorkville, one of Toronto’s ritziest neighbourhoods, Ava showered, put on a clean bra and panties, and then laid out her new clothes. It was her experience that most Chinese businessmen preferred the women they employed or did business with to dress conservatively. Ava chose the black cotton slacks and the more modest Cole Haan pumps, and offset the dark palette with her new pink Brooks Brothers shirt. It was bright but plainly cut and, buttoned close to the neck, it would look professional enough. Besides, given Uncle’s monochromatic look she felt they needed a little colour. The Shanghai Tang cufflinks completed the outfit and contrasted nicely with her shirt.

Ava applied a light touch of red lipstick and black mascara and then sprayed some Annick Goutal perfume behind her ears and on both wrists. She freed her shoulder-length glossy black hair from the rubber band, brushed it, and then pinned it up with her favourite hair piece: an ivory chignon pin. The pin had come from the pouch where she kept her jewellery; Ava also took from it a simple gold crucifix, which she slipped around her neck, and a Cartier Tank Francaise watch. The watch was the most expensive piece of jewellery she owned; she liked the way it spoke to success and professionalism.

When she strolled back into the lounge, she could feel all eyes following her. She walked slowly, her head held high, her shoulders back — a woman full of self-confidence.

Uncle sat at the back of the lounge, sipping tea. Ava took the seat next to him. He glanced at her and smiled. “I was going to have a beer, but I think it is best to save myself for dinner,” he said.

Ava could see in his eyes how pleased he was with her appearance. She loved his eyes: lively, curious, probing. Ava had learned early on that Uncle’s world was defined through his eyes and not through his words. “I was reading about Wong before you arrived,” she said, a question more than a statement.

“I met him once, about fifteen years ago, when Uncle Chang and Tommy Ordonez wanted to build a cigarette factory in Wuhan,” Uncle said. Tommy Ordonez was the richest man in the Philippines and Chang Wang was his long-time business partner and an old friend of Uncle’s. He and Ava had just finished a job for them, recovering $50 million from a gambling swindle that had taken Ava from Vancouver to San Francisco, Las Vegas, and finally London, where she had found herself confronting a prominent U.K. cabinet minister and his daughter. “There were problems getting the right location, and then more problems with building permits and licences. I went to Wuhan to straighten it out and found myself dealing with Wong. His guanxi was impressive then. It must be stronger now.”

“And what was he like?”

“For someone with his connections, he was friendly enough, and easy to do business with if you understood what his requirements were and complied with them. Of course, many people are friendly if you are doing what they want you to do. What was different about Wong was that he was not arrogant or boastful. Most of the new-rich Chinese, especially those from humble backgrounds, are vain and selfish. They have so much and everyone else has so little, and they cannot seem to help rubbing it in. Wong never took that path. He prides himself on being loyal to everyone who helped him along the way. I did hear, of course, that he is not a man to mislead, and that if you do, he never forgives and is relentless in getting revenge.”

“The government?”

“He was respectful. He obeyed the law as much as was necessary. He did not embarrass officials with his wealth and power, and he did not, as far as I know, bribe them excessively. He exchanged favours, of course, but where he was clever was that his door was open to them and their children if they chose to join one of his companies. That was the carrot, rather than an envelope filled with cash, though I am sure from time to time that was needed too. So he has never been associated with any overt corruption, and the officials who have worked with him over the years have not had to worry about getting shot.”

“Why does a man with such guanxi need us?”

“I do not know, but I am curious, and not many things make me curious these days.”

“He seems to have his fingers in many pies.”

“More than we could know.”

“Toys, plastics, garments, computer parts, cigarettes.”

“It is difficult to do anything in Wuhan without his assistance, and his assistance always comes at the cost of a piece of the business.”

“What if you refuse?”

“Then maybe your plant does not get built or it takes longer than you thought and costs more. And then you might have problems with warehousing and transportation, because he controls much of that too.”

“So Uncle Chang made him a partner in the cigarette business?”

“Of course, but as Wong explained — and he was right — making him a partner opened many doors. Chang got the land he wanted at a reduced price. Instead of waiting two years for a building permit, he had one in two weeks. The equipment he was bringing over from the Philippines cleared Customs, without a bribe, in half the scheduled time. And when the plant was running, Wong spoke to his friend the governor of Hubei, who spoke to his friend the mayor of Shanghai, and the cigarettes had an instant new market. And so on and so on. Wong is the kind of partner everyone needs in China.”