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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
Double duplicity
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The Bank of Lhasa was a real bank, on paper independent from the Chinese government. In fact, it was created by the Communists to lure foreign investment into what is now euphemistically called the Tibetan Autonomous Region -- to help finance Chinese policy there while allowing investors to believe they were aiding the Tibetan people, not to mention making investors a healthy buck or two. The scheme was exquisitely duplicitous, but of course that's what the Chinese Communists do best.
It also gave great cover to Fon Du, whose business card identified him as vice president of the bank's Honolulu branch but whose primary job was with Te-Wu, the Chinese secret police.
He was on the job at Neiman Marcus, tailing a rabble-rousing Taiwanese student from HPU, when he first saw Bodhicita Guzman. Perhaps the most stunning women he'd ever laid eyes on, she was admiring a peach sweater set and as he approached she gasped to herself "Four hundred dollars!"
"Rather steep, and such a pity, it would look quite good on you," he said. "Forgive me, I was just walking past, and couldn't help noticing what a lovely color that is against your skin."
He was tall, Asian, mid-30s, very handsome, well-muscled beneath a gray business suit, jet black hair moussed back.
He gave her a business card, introduced himself."Since your funds are understandably limited as a student, may I purchase this gift for you."
"In return for what?" she said defensively, stepped back.
"The honor of getting to know you. And seeing you wear it, of course."
Normally she would have said no thank you and walked away, fast. But normal is not meeting a young banker hottie with a slight British accent. And something in the back of her mind whispered she might learn something about this banking operation that could be of interest to her Tibetan friends like Kamasami Khan. Plus, it was just the perfect sweater set.
"That's it?"
"As you Americans say, that's my story and I'm sticking to it."
The Puerto Rican-Japanese beauty shrugged, smiled. "OK. Thank you."
He paid with cash, four Benjamins and a couple twenties.
"I'd like to ask you for a drink at Mariposa," he said as the clerk wrapped the set and placed it in a bag. "But I'm about to meet a colleague." In fact, he'd been keeping an eye on the Taiwanese student throughout their conversation, to see who she was meeting. "But perhaps this evening?"
"This evening would be fine."
"Sam Choy's on Kapahulu?"
"I'll meet you there. I'll be the girl in the peach sweater."
"And your name?"
"Some things," she said with a wink, "have to wait."
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com