Why Did He Die?

Chapter 2

The following week the United 757 banked steeply first to the right and then to we made our final approach into Hong Kong’s Airport. The old Kai Tak airport was rated one of the most dangerous by international pilots but there is plenty of runway at the new airport. From the moment of disembarkation the pace quickened. Brown, black and white faces in the crisp uniforms of the immigration officers sat under signs welcoming “Foreign Passports”. I walked up nervously to an officer who looked at my unflattering passport picture. He looked up, smiled, and without a word handed the passport back with a stamped embarkation card. He waved me through.

In the luggage area, a small man in a white uniform wearing a cap with military braid and Regent Hotel logo held a card with my name printed on it. He confirmed my name and called on his cellular telephone. Shortly mint green Mercedes sedan pulled up to the curb outside near where we stood. The driver opened the trunk and stowed my luggage. The driver startled me as he turned left into oncoming traffic. I forgot that I was in the former British Empire so driving is on the left.

The Regent Hotel began to live up to its reputation from the moment the Mercedes stopped in front of the giant glass doors. Doors open with a bow from the door man, two porters collected my luggage and hurried ahead of me to the front desk which curiously was positioned in the middle of the luxurious lobby. Check in was smooth and efficient even though it was after midnight. A different porter took me on an elevator which opened on the tenth floor. No one seemed to expect a tip. They seemed to enjoy being hospitable.

Two days later after having taken the harbor cruise and finished shopping, I took the ferry from Kowloon to the Central District of Hong Kong to trek to the Peak for the panoramic view of the harbor and the city. Ceaseless rain delayed my trip but that day the clouds were less threatening.

Ferries departed every ten minutes from a terminal about three blocks from the hotel. I boarded the ferry on the first class level and noticed the fellow whose 5:30 am arrival without luggage three days earlier caught my attention. I stood near the end of the bench where he was seated. Smiling I said, “Hello,” feeling I should try to connect with a person who appeared to be from the states.

Hong Kong to Kowloon Ferry

Hong Kong–Kowloon Ferry

He acknowledged my greeting and surprised me by asking, “Where are you off to?”

“The Peak. I hope the rains hold off.” He laughed.

“What about you?”

He pointed at an imposing black structure, “I have business with a banker there at the Shanghai & Hong Kong Bank.”

Since he arrived alone, boldly I ask, “By chance you’d like to have dinner together?”

“Sorry, No. How about a drink at half past five at the Regent?”

“Sounds fine.” We rose as the ferry nudged the piling at the pier; the motor roared and the ferry was tethered to the bollard. He walked ahead, “See you later at the hotel.” The gang plank clattered into place and a throng of short, brown people flooded off as an anxious crowd prepared to embark. At 5 feet, 11 inches and a well trimmed 175 lbs. I didn’t think of myself tall, but in Hong Kong I towered over almost everyone.

I climbed to the top deck of a green double-decker trolley and rode to the end of the line. I boarded bus #47 which struggled up the mountain to the cable funicular tram station for the final ascent up the steep face of the Peak. The adventure of the trip was more fun than the destination. The view was unimpeded by clouds and rain. I counted innumerable ships, scowls, tugs and junks churning the waters of the Hong Kong harbor. The freight tenders off loaded full size containers because there is no place for the freighters to dock in a process that doesn’t occur in other harbors.

My accountant mind calculated the cost of the people involved in the transactions — ship captain to barge operator to tug captain to shore crew to truck drivers. A fortune could be made selling labor saving equipment. As my flat palm slapped my forehead I thought, “Hell, with labor saving devices what would all these people do? Goods are cheap because labor is cheap.”

An unexpected downpour cascaded down on me as if falling from hidden waterfall shaking me out of my intellectual haze. I hadn’t noticed the clouds appear. I sprinted seventy-five yards to a shelter with my umbrella in my bag. With every step my sandals found a deeper puddle. As quickly as the rain started it stopped. My clothes were drenched.

I walked toward the taxi queue where three red and gray Japanese Nissans were waiting. I got into the back seat. The driver turned around and smiled with only two yellowed front teeth showing. “Mister, you get wet.”

I smiled back not amused. My shirt was sticking to my skin, my underwear was firmly lodged in my crack and there was an audible squish from my sandals. I snapped “To Kowloon ferry.”

“Know place you get warm and dry.”

“No thanks.” I could see him driving around and dropping me at a brothel where I might get rolled and left without cash. He insisted, “On way, right on way. Many Americans go.”

“OK, OK.” If he would get me down the mountain and closer to downtown I would step out when he stopped. He started down the hill passing the white-washed apartment towers that commanded spectacular views of the harbor. I imagined the rich furnishings and celebrity art work as we sped by.

My heart beat quickened as the speeding, twisting taxi proceeded. I was a prisoner. I planned to escape when he slowed down. Before I could do anything he pulled into a small courtyard just big enough to turn his small vehicle around. He turned to me and smiled: “Here!” I paid the 15 HK dollars and got out ready for him to drive away. Before he pulled away I was greeted and hurried inside by two lovely ladies in delicate silk kimonos.

The inside was not like the outside. The noise was gone; the chill was gone and the surroundings were inviting. I had nothing better to do. I was gently led to a curtained cubicle to undress. Before I had time to worry about where to put my watch, money and passport an older but equally attractive woman opened the curtain and handed me an envelope. I deposited my money clip and watch in the envelope which she placed in a small wall safe. She locked the door, turned smiling, and handed me the key attached to a small lanyard. I became a spectator as I was undressed by two young women. I removed my shoes and socks. They unbuttoned my shirt, took down my trousers, slipped off my boxers and wrapped a large soft towel around my waist. I stepped outside the curtain to find a steaming pool occupied by four naked Asian men having loud, animated Chinese conversation. One man sat on the edge of the pool while the others floated in the swirling hot water.

I was dazed by the tranquility of the setting and stood there not knowing what to do. A girl in a pink kimono grabbed my hand and led me to small stool in a tiny garden. She pulled my towel away. I squatted on the stood as she soaped and rinsed me from a cauldron of warm water before leading me to the main pool. I was naked but so was everyone else.

After soaking in the pool I received an Oriental massage, followed by another soaking bath and finally a warm wrap. The masseur was a small, older Chinese man. His hands were strong. As I finished my head was light from the experience. During a nap which I couldn’t stop I awoke abruptly realizing I have a date for a drink. Finding my dried clothes I quickly dressed and happily paid $20. Even with my mind swimming I was focused on my five-thirty cocktail date.

Miraculously traffic in the tunnel to Kowloon did not delay my arrival at the Regent. The hotel lobby was teaming with guests and tourists. My friend whose name (if he told me) I couldn’t remember was not at the bar. As I stood gawking he rushed across the lobby. His face was flushed and he was noticeably out of breath. As he touched my shoulder he sucked in a breath. I smiled, “Relax, I just got here.”

“It’s not that. Come with me.” We walked across the lobby past the Phillip Morris capped elevator attendant. I followed him into the dimly lit cabin and he touched button #31. The polished bronze door closed with a gentle thud. Neither of us spoke as the cabin quietly ascended.

We entered his suite through polished black double doors with red dragon handles. He quickly shut the doors behind us. His two bedroom suite had a sweeping view of the harbor. The black and white leather furniture was suspended on the polished mahogany floors and soft woven rugs. He walked directly to the bar, pulled two aspirins from a package and swallowed them.” He turned back toward the bar. “What can I get you?”

“Listen, we can do this another time …”

“Please don’t go. Have a drink. Can you have dinner with me? My plans got changed.”

“White wine would be nice.” My head, still light as a feather, couldn’t think of anything except “Yes.”

I sat down on a long leather sofa and took a glass of white wine from his hand. Neither of us spoke and my eyes would not stay open and my mouth refused to form words. Finally, I said softly, “I am so sleepy I wouldn’t be much of a dinner companion. I’ll go take a little nap and meet you later.”

“Sleep here. I have an extra bedroom. I have some work to do.” My arms and legs felt like lead weights. I didn’t care where I slept as long as I did it soon. I took off my shoes and laid my head back. It was dark when I opened my eyes and focused on my friend’s shapely, hairless butt walking around his bed. He pulled a floor length black silk robe with intricate embroidery around his naked torso. He turned around and smiled at me, “Feel better.”

“Yep.”

“Dinner reservations on Hong Kong island at 20:30.”

I said, “I’ll go shower, dress and meet you in the lobby in fifteen or twenty minutes.” I started toward the door. “Thanks for the hospitality. I wasn’t much of a guest. And I have forgotten your name.”

Smiling he said, “Andrew Henley. Hurry along. I hate to be late.”

I met him in the lobby twenty minutes later.

We took a green and yellow taxi under Hong Kong harbor after Andrew speaking our destination in Cantonese. Ten minutes later we were seated in a private alcove of a large Mandarin Chinese restaurant. Andrew was relaxed with us discussing travel, living in Hong Kong, and the emerging Asian economies with their threats and their virtues. As we walked out of the restaurant we were comparing the virtues of Chinese beer and Budweiser like we are having a college dorm discussion. Our evening ended about eleven as we stood in the hotel lobby vowing to meet again without mention of time or place.

The next morning at breakfast I spotted an old friend, Marv, from the University of Illinois, and his wife, Peggy. I invited myself to join them and I agreed to join them on a harbor tour. Their companionship was more important than the fact that I took the same tour two days earlier. We lunched in the bustling market district near the end of one of the trolley lines. On my last night I joined Peggy and Marv, for a feast in a Szechwan restaurant within walking distance of the hotel. As we were saying our ‘Goodbyes’ I told them I was off to Tokyo the next afternoon. Peggy asked, “Isn’t that the 28th?” Without saying anything I realized I was supposed to meet Lee on the 28th. I had reconfirmed my flight and my reservations at the Imperial Hotel. I had not heard from Lee since our time in Kawai so I planned to fly on.

I returned to my room and the message light was flashing. I picked up the receiver and the operator spoke, “Mr. Haffner, Mr. Lee Kwan telephoned. He looks forward to seeing you tomorrow.” I put the receiver back in the cradle. The message gave no time or location or return phone number. I didn’t know how to contact him and tell him I wasn’t available. My stomach tightened as frustrated sweat beads formed on my forehead. I decided to accommodate his request but he is so inconsiderate of my plans.

My sleep was intermittent as I thought of question after question: “What does he really want? Why did he pick me out? Is he trying to draw me into the export business?” During the night an envelope holding a pink message slip appeared under my door. I noticed it as I walked to the bathroom. It read: “Regent main bar. 4:30 pm.” I opened the drapes and stared into the bright morning light.

Cocktail Lounge in Regent Hotel

Cocktail Lounge in Regent Hotel

The day crept by. I called and delayed my departure and called to cancel the hotel reservation. I sat on a bench on the broad promenade outside the Regent Hotel as the minutes inched by. Promptly at 4:30, I made my way to the bar and ordered a gin and quinine with a lemon. I sipped. At 4:45 there was still no Lee. At 6:30 pm after four drinks, I was too mad to be drunk. I was fuming that he hadn’t called.

I carefully watched the Phillip Morris boys as they carried message boards around the lobby. The tiny bells on the top of the board quietly signaled attention to the name chalked on the board. “John Haffner” did not appear.

Back in my room I ordered a Caesar salad and a bottle of white wine. I stalked around trying to figure what I could do to punish myself for being so naïve and gullible. I changed my plans, wasted a precious day of my vacation only to be stood up by a guy I barely knew. Staggering around drunk I finished packing, ready to leave first thing in the morning. I stripped off my clothes, dropped onto the bed without pulling the covers down and passed out. During the night another handwritten message was slipped under the door.

With a raging headache I focused on the words, “John, don’t leave Hong Kong. I need your help. Lee”. The note made me angrier. He didn’t even call to apologize for standing me up. If he needed my help that badly why didn’t he knock? I called the desk to ask who delivered the message. The operator said that an unnamed page delivered it about 1:30 am.

Sitting at breakfast gingerly sipping orange juice I noticed my name scrawled on a message board. I waved and page presented me with a message indicating that I should call a Mr. Wang at the Canton Export and Trading Company. Curious, but angry, I flipped open my cell and called. Mr. Wang answered and I told him I am unable to meet him because I had scheduled flight to Tokyo even though I had not changed my reservation. He seemed surprised and proceeded without hesitation, “Please excuse my directness but Mr. Kwan wants me to offer you a position as lead accountant overseeing our international accounting section for a salary of $1,000,000 HK plus a housing allowance.” I was completely taken back and I couldn’t speak. He said, “Mr. Haffner, are you there?”

I mumbled, “Yes.”

“Are you able to change your schedule? I would like to meet you and discuss the position.”

Regaining my composure I said, “Thank you for your offer. Your offer is unexpected. I will come to your office later this morning at 11:30.” I hung up and tried to remember exactly what he said. Sitting stunned in the midst of the clatter of breakfast dishes I tried to make sense of the past twenty-four hours.

I appeared promptly in sport coat and tie at Mr. Wang’s office on the fortieth floor of the Hong Kong & Shanghai Bank Tower. Mr. Wang extended his small smooth hand and bowed his head slightly. I followed him into an office that commanded a harbor view more spectacular than the one I saw from the Peak. I had coffee with sugar as he sipped his tea and explained the duties of Director of International Accountancy. “Mr. Lee Kwan recommends you highly and hoped to make the offer personally but was unexpectedly called to Taiwan. He will return in a day or two and will explain the specific projects that need the most immediate attention.” He proceeded to tell me the offer was worth twice what I was being paid in Chicago.

“Mr. Wang, thank you for the offer but I cannot give you an answer until I have the offer in writing. I am in Hong Kong on a visitor’s visa which is only good for 90 days.”

“I will see you get the offer in writing. Mr. Kwan will see that the correct visa and documents are obtained.” His tone suggested that I had accepted the position. He didn’t seem to know that I had a job in Chicago and had only three years to reach partnership.

Unconsciously I stood to leave and said, “Mr. Wang your offer comes as a surprise. There are things I must consider before I give you an answer. I will call you this afternoon around 15:00.” He stood smiling to shake hands suspecting as I did that I was going to accept.

The moist, sultry air cocooned me as I rode the ferry across to Kowloon. Accepting the offer would ruin my chance at partnership. Everyone expected me to return to Chicago. I expected to return. The reality struck me that the only thing I would really miss was my softball team. I had no wife, no house and recently sold my car to my sister. By 13:00 the written offer was delivered to me. In writing was everything Mr. Wang had said plus more details about the bonus and benefits. After a couple of gin and quinines I placed a call to Mr. Wang at 15:00 and accepted the offer.

After a workout in the hotel gym and dinner it was late enough to call Chicago and resign. As I picked up the phone in my room and placed the international call. I almost hung up, thinking “Why am I calling? They aren’t expecting me for another week.” Instead I gave the operator the number and reached Don Hamilton, the managing partner’s, assistant. I told her I was calling from Hong Kong so she said she would find him.

“Hey, Haffner where are you?”

“Hong Kong.”

“Weather hot and wet?”

“Yes, very. Don, I’m staying here. I accepted a position.”

After a pause he says, “You sure?”

“Yes,” I firmly responded and told him the nature of the position. When I told him I was not coming back to Chicago and starting immediately he was less cordial. He concluded with, “Well, if it doesn’t work out we’d be happy to have you back.” I hung up knowing I had taken a Chinese cleaver to the cue of my predictable, professional life.

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