Free The Red Pole of Macau by Ian Hamilton

meet?”
    “You know Andy owns a noodle shop near the Kowloon Tong mtr station?”
    “Yes, and I know where it is.”
    “Meet me there in an hour.”
    It was only after she hung up the phone that she felt the stress of the day descend on her. It was a mess. More of a mess than she could have anticipated. And aside from asking Uncle to intervene, she didn’t have a clue about what to do. She rarely felt helpless. There was always a way, always some lever you could pull. Except this time she couldn’t think of a single one except for Uncle. What ate at her was the thought of having to ask him. And what scared the hell out of her was the possibility that he might turn her down. She wasn’t sure she could handle that humiliation.
    She showered quickly and changed into her track pants and a black T-shirt, then headed to the Star Ferry.
    It was late afternoon and the harbour rush hour was just starting. Normally Ava sat at the rear of the Kowloon-bound ferry so she could look back at the Hong Kong skyline. Today she sat in the middle of the boat, with no interest in anything but the meeting with Uncle.
    She caught a taxi in Tsim Sha Tsui and got to Kowloon Tong five minutes early. Uncle’s car was already at the curb, with Sonny, his driver and bodyguard, leaning against it talking to a policeman, who was making every effort to be polite. Sonny wore a black suit and white shirt, but unlike his boss he had a black tie knotted at the neck. He was a large man, bigger than Ava and Uncle combined. Well over six feet, he had a body that looked soft, but his physique was deceiving — he was more agile than any man Ava had ever met, and even more powerful. He also had no fear and, she thought, no conscience.
    “Sonny,” she said.
    He glanced at her and smiled. “He’s waiting for you,” he said.
    The noodle shop was just inside the station, a location that Andy would have to have killed someone to get if his wife’s father hadn’t already secured the space before the station was even built.
    Ava walked in and almost ran over little Andy. He was only slightly taller than her and weighed maybe ten pounds more. He was a good man to have by your side, though, and Ava had used him several times, the last time in Las Vegas, when his expertise with a meat cleaver had proven useful. “Hey, boss,” he said.
    “Hi, Andy,” she said.
    Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andy’s wife looking at them. Ava smiled at her and waved. The woman put her hands together as a sign of respect. Over the years she had met a lot of wives like Andy’s. There were times when Ava felt she was leading the life they all wanted.
    “Where’s Uncle?” she asked.
    “In the back, in the kitchen. I put a little table there so you two could talk in private.”
    “Did he ask you to do that?”
    “Yes.”
    He stood when she entered the kitchen. He was wearing his black suit and a white shirt buttoned at the collar. “You are as beautiful as ever,” he said.
    “I’m sorry about this,” she said.
    He sat. “Do you want something to eat?”
    “Not really.”
    “We should not offend Andy.”
    “Then order for both of us.”
    “Steamed snow pea tips? Rice noodles with shrimp and scallops?”
    “Perfect.”
    Uncle spoke to the cook, who was working five woks at once. The cook nodded without turning around.
    “I was surprised when Lok called me,” he began.
    “I’m sorry, let me explain,” she said.
    It took her ten minutes. Uncle knew her father, knew about his extended family situation. What he didn’t know was that Michael Lee had reached out to her. She went through it as best she could, not exaggerating but making her feelings clear, particularly her fears that her father and mother and her two aunties — one with small children in Australia — whom she didn’t know were somehow going to be swept up in the mess in Macau.
    Before she finished, the cook had deposited the snow pea tips and the noodle dish on their table. Uncle picked at