The door buzzed open. Winston swung his feet off the table and sat up, setting down his notes.
The men who entered were not ones he expected. He recognized the one with the slicked-back hair as a frequent background hoverer during Leung's visits – more secretary than bodyguard, he thought. Another was obviously muscle. The third had narrow eyes in a narrow, tanned face. The face looked bored, the eyes did not.
"What is it?" he said, addressing Slick-Hair. "I have a schedule to follow." The man found a source of inspiration in the periodic table pinned to the wall. It was the third man who answered:
"We're taking you to see someone."
"Mr. Leung?"
"Mr. Leung is no longer in charge of this operation. Bring samples of the merchandise."
Winston stared at him for a second, then stood up, went to the grey cabinet, and unlocked it. One of the shelves held three beakers, each half filled with pills. He took two from each beaker, placing each pair in a two-by-two-inch zip-locked plastic bag.
"Fine," he said. "Let's go."
He expected an excursion to a warehousing facility (the worst case scenario being a construction site sand pit), but an hour later he found himself being ushered down a tastefully-lit corridor on the first basement parking level of a Hong Kong Island skyscraper.
It was not an office building. The corridor was set with ornately framed, floor-to-ceiling mirrors in which he caught glimpses of himself half-hidden between two taller, dark-suited men (Slick-Hair had disappeared in the interim), and punctuated with elevator doors. Each elevator - Winston estimated - serviced one or two suites per floor only, isolating the inhabitants from each other insofar as it was possible.
He counted ten elevators. It was a long corridor.
The eleventh and last elevator featured a card reader. The narrow-eyed man retrieved a magnetic key card from his breast pocket and swiped it before punching the single available floor button (P5).
The ride did not take a long time, but it made Winston feel queasy.
Two burly men sat around a card table in the foyer. They wore dark suits and had wires hanging out of their ears. They looked up when the elevator doors opened.
"We're expected," said Narrow-Eyes. One of the men said something into his mouthpiece and nodded. The other one got up and patted Winston down with the efficiency of an afterhours club bouncer.
"What are these?" he asked.
"Samples," said Winston.
"He was told to bring them," said Narrow-Eyes.
The first man unlocked and pulled open a folding metal gate with a clatter. At the same time the door behind it was opened, from the inside.
"Please come in," said the boy. He was perhaps ten or twelve, dressed in old-fashioned embroidered silks, with a fresh-faced look Winston found jarring. "Master Fei is expecting you."
Winston wasn't expecting Master Fei.
He knew the name Liu Fei Long but not much more (excessive knowledge or the appearance thereof was generally not construed in his interest). He imagined someone like Sam Leung; a little younger and less greasy, perhaps, a little more obviously intelligent. He didn't think—
Had there ever been a Canto-pop star turned matinée idol more unbelievable in the role of Triad leader?
Even a female Canto-pop star?
Liu Fei Long looked him up and down, a flicker of perfect, almond-shaped dark eyes. Something about his gaze made Winston feel small and awkward and exposed. A pinky mouse, he thought – lovingly defrosted and dropped into a garter snake's aquarium. He kept his face still, but his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Liu must have noticed. He smiled slightly; the effect was stunning.
"So you're Tse Hsu-Ping," he said. "You've caused a fair amount of excitement. Do you have the samples?"
Winston took the zip bags out of his pocket. Narrow-Eyes appeared by his side, took the samples and carried them over to Liu, laying them in a row on the ornately carved teak side table beside Liu's chair. It was a distance of less than three meters.
"Tell me," said Liu. "What do these do?"
Winston took a breath. "The blue tablet with a diamond imprint contains 35mg caffeine, 40mg methamphetamine—"
Leung would have told him to answer the fucking question: what does it do, not what did you put in it. Liu allowed him to recite his entire list. Halfway through the enumeration of the third formula he opened the sample bag in question, shook out one of the pills and held it up to the light.
"The blue diamond," he said when Winston was done, "keeps the user in an alert and hyper-focussed state for a period of several hours, with comparatively negligeable side effects. The yellow butterfly is an euphoric relaxant. And this one—" he rolled it between thumb and forefinger. "There is a liquid form of this that can be administered intravenously. It has... interesting effects."
"It can also be inhaled," said Winston. "It was difficult to fixate for oral dosage."
"Indeed," said Liu, glancing up at him. It was an amused look. "Do you assess all your creditors in this fashion?"
He understood. Of course. "I feel more comfortable if I know whom I'm working for."
"If they're aware enough to appreciate your worth, you mean."
Winston was silent.
"Since I now hold your debt I've looked into the repayment schedule you previously were on with Sam Leung," said Liu. He leant forward in his chair, loops of dark hair shifting over his shoulder. "I applaud your sense of filial piety."
Winston laughed sharply. It sounded bitter even to himself. "Filial piety has nothing to do with it. I would have let you take the store and the flat if that would've been the end of it, but unfortunately I know how to add. You would have come after me anyway."
"The generic you, I hope," said Liu. "And, of course, with your father dead and the family business gone it would have been extremely difficult to finance your further education. But you made Leung see an investment with a sure expectation of return. No, not entirely a shortsighted fool."
The tone of voice made it clear. Remember to whom you speak.
Winston reminded himself to breathe. "What do you mean to do with me?" he asked finally.
"Very little that has not already been done," said Liu. "You will produce the next shipment as stipulated by Leung, but you will do it for me. I've raised your theoretical salary to slightly above the industry norm. As for your own ongoing arrangement—" he smiled that slight smile again. "Understand that your abilities are keenly appreciated."
Leung demanded "samples" on a frequent basis and always kept them. Liu returned them to Winston at the conclusion of the interview. Later that evening he dumped the contents of each bag back into its respective beaker, taking care not to touch.
Then he got down to work.