The Secret (38 page)

I spoke his name.

He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“I’m told it’s gonna be okay,” I lied.

“B’lieve
that
y’believe in the tooth fairy,” he muttered. He sighed. It was a rattle. “But I been layin’ here, half dreaming, and my mind goes back to Paris. Those were good days, weren’t they? Giselle … and Therèse … and Ulla. You fucked Giselle’s little sister and wound up married to her. Those were good days.”

“Every day I ever spent with you was a good day, Buddy,” I whispered tearfully. “You saved my life, you know. When Chieppa and Filly tried to kill me, I used what you taught me: how to cut with a razor. How many times did you make me practice that move?”

“You were a good kid, but you weren’t smart. I tried to make you smart.”

“Why? Why did you want to do that for me, Buddy?”

“I gotta tell ya somethin’. I’m glad you got here in time.”

I sobbed. “Nobody ever had a better friend, Buddy…”

“Not so good as you think. That’s what I gotta tell ya.”

“Buddy…”

“Your father and mother were killed on the Jersey Pike,” he whispered hoarsely. He shook his head faintly. “No accident. They were forced off the road by a truck. It was a hit.”

“You mean they were murdered?” I asked, shocked.

“Yeah … They were murdered.
By me.
I was drivin’ the truck. I’d been paid good. I rammed that truck against their back bumper and made your father drive faster. Then I pulled out and nudged him off the road, through the guardrail and into the water. I’d picked the spot.”

“Buddy!”

“Then I heard about you and came to meet you, and saw what I’d done. You were … so goddamned innocent. And bein’ fucked every which way. That’s why I tried to be your friend—to save you from that son of a bitch!”

“You mean the man who hired you to kill my parents was—”

“Right. He lied, he cheated, he stole. Hell, he even married your girl, Kitty, after he knew she’d got her claws on all your money.”

“Uncle Harry?!”

Buddy nodded weakly. “Uncle Harry.… Well … A long time later … Uncle Harry hated you and was still plotting to have your ass. I fixed it so Harry wouldn’t have anybody’s ass anymore. That move I made you learn.”

“Buddy!
My God, Buddy!”

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jerry. About your father and mother. I’m so goddamned sorry! I’m even sorry I kept the secret all these years. I should have told you. The secret has been a brick in my stomach for fifty years.”

I sat with him until the end, thinking of all the days and all the years. He said nothing more. In an hour he was gone.

55

LEN

We acquired controlling interest in Sphere, Incorporated. Zhang Feng put up $25 million in the form of a loan to Gazelle, Incorporated. Gazelle bought up Sphere’s debt and took its hypothecated stock for a total of $75 million—meaning of course, that we put in $50 million. Though Gazelle owed Zhang $25 million, he acquired none of the Sphere stock. Gazelle had total control of Sphere.

Zhang asked for two seats on the board of directors, so his representatives would be present at meetings and could keep him fully informed. This presented no problem. There were nine directors: Tom Malloy, Jerry Cooper, Len Cooper, Vicky Cooper, Roger Middleton, Hugh Scheck, and … My father surprised me. He suggested Liz McAllister be elected to the board. I agreed, and she was elected. Zhang’s two directors were Vincent Lowe, a vice president at Marine Midland Bank, and Professor Du Jin of Columbia University.

My father was elected the chairman of the board. I was elected the chief executive officer. Malloy was elected president and chief operating officer.

All of this meant, of course, that Tom Malloy lost control of Sphere, absolutely. He would run it as we prescribed.

On the other hand, it meant Sphere’s entire debt was retired, and it was in a position to borrow again to finance the new things it was going to do. Texas banks were happy to lend money to the newly and surprisingly solvent Sphere, Incorporated, and we let the Texas banks do the financing. Except that one significant loan came from the Bank of Hong Kong and Shanghai.

Professor William Cable became a permanent consultant to Sphere. With Liz McAllister, he examined every element of the designs Malloy came up with.

I found myself affected by Tom Malloy’s enthusiasm about Sphere IV. We would earn more revenue from our microprocessors, at least initially, but Sphere IV might in time become another Cheeks. If for no other reason, it would be a handsome stylishly ultra-sleek computer, not a beige box.

*   *   *

I was thirty-six years old. My father was seventy-four. Vicky was fifty-four. We had a seven-year-old daughter, Catherine, and a five-year-old son, J. J. Anthony Lucchese was twenty-six, had his MBA, and was installed as heir apparent at Interboro Fruit.

Anthony was an intelligent businessman and began to suggest to Vicky that Interboro should begin to diversify. Diversification was a buzz word in business now. He wondered if Interboro should not buy into Sphere. Vicky said no, for the moment anyway.

My children were a joy. With Maria’s assistance and Vicky’s encouragement, both of them could say simple things in Chinese. That made it easier for us to contemplate returning to Hong Kong. On the other hand, it was difficult to contemplate a peripatetic life, living in New York eight months of the year and Hong Kong four. Catherine had to go to school.

Our options were limited. I would go out to Hong Kong and stay as long as I needed to, leaving my family behind, or we would all go to Hong Kong and would have to stay there long enough for Catherine to complete a school year.

The Handover had occurred by now. Charlie Han and others assured me that life in Hong Kong was little changed, that the Beijing government had not imposed tyranny and showed no sign of intending to.

The decision was business-driven. We needed someone on the ground in the Far East if we were to do there the things to which we were committed and which we planned.

So we decided. We would move into our apartments in Hong Kong and stay there nine or ten months.

*   *   *

Charlie was right. The place had not changed much. The principal change I noted at first was that the new airport was open and was as efficient as any airport in the world. Downtown, we noted chiefly the absence of the Union Jack. The flags of China and Hong Kong flew. The police were the same men and women who had been police before. The difference was that they no longer wore crowns for insignia but badges of red, with stars.

Hong Kong remained one of the best-run cities in the world, with quiet, expeditious subways, fast-running traffic, a telephone system par excellence, modern new buildings dominating everything, air-conditioning overcoming the subtropical heat … I had come to like the place, in spite of the fact that I could speak only a few words of Chinese.

We enrolled Catherine in a school in Kowloon that was run by Jesuits. They quietly accepted the fact that she was of Jewish heritage and said they would not try to influence her to become Christian. At her age she could not travel on the subway alone, so I leased a Toyota and hired a driver.

So … the first problem was to deal with Bai Fuyuan.

*   *   *

He asked me to come to Shenzhen this time. I went, with Charlie Han. The train trip from Kowloon Station was easier this time—easier in that we made a much quicker exit from Shenzhen Station. I had to wonder if the Chinese government had not made the passport ordeal at Shenzhen more difficult when Hong Kong was a British colony than it was now that Hong Kong was a province of China.

We met Bai Fuyuan in an exclusive club. Once again he was wearing a white suit, as he had the first time I met him. We were served champagne and slices of fruit by stark-naked little girls. I began to suspect that he had been in touch with Zhang Feng and knew that I had succumbed to the charms of Chang Li.

But now he wanted to talk business. We moved slowly toward an agreement. I wanted to start with the merchandise that would go to America.

“I must ask you, Mr. Bai, hasn’t the new relationship between China and Hong Kong made our arrangements more difficult?”

“To the contrary, Mr. Cooper. And, incidentally, there is no longer any reason to speak about differences between Hong Kong and China. It is all China now. The Brits could be stiff-necked. We Chinese know how to do business.”

“Guanxi,”
I suggested.

“Guanxi,”
he agreed with a modest smile. “In the States there used to be a cliché, I believe. ‘One hand washes the other.’ So … the whole point is, how can we make a mutually satisfactory profit?”

“You spoke once of selling us microchips,” I said.

Bai turned down the corners of his mouth and shrugged. “I can do better business selling you sewn merchandise. I know that business better, as do you.”

I wondered if this didn’t mean he knew Zhang Feng had gotten the microchip contracts. I wondered if the two of them did not work together. I also had to wonder if we were in the grip of two Chinese bandits.

“Have you considered the suit made with the aluminum links?” he asked.

He pointed a finger, said something in Chinese, and one of the girls trotted off toward another room. I knew she would return momentarily wearing the teddy made of aluminum chain mail.

“I think it would have a limited market, owing to the fact that it has to be uncomfortable to wear.”

“But, Mr. Cooper. Is it not uncomfortable to wear the handcuffs, leg irons, and other restraint articles that you sell?”

“You have a point,” I admitted.

When the girl returned she was wearing the aluminum-ring teddy. I had to admit it was erotic.

“I gave you a price of twelve dollars,” said Bai. “On reflection, I think I would have to ask fourteen. I believe you can sell it for thirty or forty dollars, maybe more. You might invest in, say, a hundred dozen. I wager you will sell them in four months.”

“Sell me a hundred dozen at your original price of twelve dollars, and if I sell them in four months or so and re-order, I will take them at fourteen.”

Bai smiled broadly. “You might be … Chinese,” he said. “You might be … Chinese.”

“That raises another point,” I said. “If I am going to do business in China, I must learn something of the language. Shall I learn Cantonese or Mandarin? My children are learning Mandarin.”

“Let me urge you to learn Cantonese,” he said. “It is not the language of government. It is much the language of business. Then … in time you can learn Putonghua as well.”

Putonghua was the official name of Mandarin Chinese, the official language of China.

He smiled again. “Do you like our little Xin there? I can offer her to you as an instructor in Cantonese. She can instruct in the Glorious Positions as well.”

“My wife, who is with me in Hong Kong now and will be in Hong Kong as long as I will, might object to little Xin.”

He nodded. “Then, sir, can we talk about your father and you appearing in China to endorse our merchandise?”

*   *   *

The first show for the endorsement of merchandise was held in Guangzhou, in what was called the Friendship Store.

My father did not come out to the Far East for that show. I went, accompanied by Vicky.

Vicky and I were treated as royalty. We were delivered to the store in a Mercedes limousine and escorted immediately to a lounge, where we were treated to champagne and caviar.

We went with a high degree of skepticism. Although I had seen Guangzhou and stayed there in a luxury hotel, I could not imagine the opulence of the Friendship Store. Though a great many of its customers were obviously foreign, the great majority were Chinese. To all appearances, anyone could enter and shop there.

Floors that were not marble were parquet. People moved up and down on quiet, slow-moving escalators. The lighting was subdued and colored to display merchandise at its best advantage. The merchandise was mostly western—Gucci, Bruno Magli, Hèrmes, Versace, Rolex.… Girls in blue blazers and gray skirts hovered over customers and offered service. Each girl spoke perfect English, more often American-accented than British English. Others—sometimes the same ones—spoke Japanese. The only suggestion that this was China was in the photo identification badges they all wore.

Bai, obviously, was proud of the Friendship Store. He was like a child with a good report card.

“This kind of merchandising is growing in China,” he said. “We have stores like this in Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzhen, Chongquing, and many other cities. The young people shop here. They have money to spend and are good customers.”

He took us to a large room furnished chiefly with couches and low tables. A cast-bronze sign by the door said:

CHEEKS

Intimate apparel

It said the same in Chinese characters, also.

On the side of the room opposite the door stood a platform some two feet above the floor, carpeted and brilliantly lighted by spots in a track overhead. It was the stage for the models.

Two television cameras in the far corners of the room were ready to tape the show.

Men and women sat on the couches, sipped champagne or tea, and nibbled on slices of fruit. Most of them were Chinese, though a few looked Japanese, and there were half a dozen westerners in the room, one or two of them American.

Bai escorted Vicky and me and Charlie Han to a couch near the stage. He handed Vicky and me two sets of small earphones, which were attached to boxes small enough for me to stick mine in my outside jacket pocket. We would hear a translation of what would be said in Chinese, Bai explained. He pointed to what he called a projector high above the stage and explained that it would transmit sound to our receiver boxes by means of infrared light. He told me to take the box out of my pocket and let it lie on my lap, where its sensor would receive the signal.

Bai Fuyuan opened the style show. He introduced the deputy governor of Guangdong province, then the mayor of Guangzhou, then Vicky, then Charlie Han, and finally me.