Samurai Code. Don Easton
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The Shaman placed his glass down and turned to Lee and asked, “Would you like to return and fill that position? To once more live under the same roof as your family?”
Lee’s broad smile gave his answer before his words announced, “It is my dream!”
“Then it shall be.”
“When do you foresee this taking place?” asked Lee, trying to contain his glee and maintain the proper dignity in his voice.
“That is the problem at the moment,” replied The Shaman. “I have a candidate in mind to fill your position at the investment company, but the person I am considering is not experienced in the commodity market like you are. With the rapid expansion of our influence here, I think we need to separate the two ventures. What we need to find is a suitable replacement for you to oversee our eastern commodity distribution.”
Lee nodded. He knew the commodities referred to were heroin, ecstasy, and methamphetamines.
“Canada is a different culture compared to our European and Asian markets,” continued The Shaman. “Now that you have set up the proper framework, I think it is better to have someone who was born to this culture or has lived here for many years to replace you. Such a person would know who to recruit in Canada and would also be more familiar with their family history.”
Lee knew that “family history” meant the personal knowledge of who and where families lived — knowledge that would ensure the strict obedience of new employees if they did not wish any harm to befall their family. He thought briefly about his own wife and their two daughters. He had seen little of them since working in Canada. Of course, their safety is not an issue. My loyalty is absolute … and I have brought them great prosperity.
“Providing, of course, that such a person existed and was qualified,” continued The Shaman. “If you have a potential candidate, then I would suggest that after the appropriate security checks, some testing and training, six months would be appropriate for you to leave Canada.”
“I have such a person in mind,” said Lee.
“And would that be Mister Wang? He came to Canada as a young man, and with his associates he undoubtedly has connections across North America.”
Lee shook his head. “Mister Wang has eastern connections through the Big Circle Boys and the Sun Yee On triad, but, like Mister Wang himself, they seem reluctant to conduct business with Westerners. I do not believe Mister Wang is ready to advance to my position. In my opinion, he still associates too closely with individuals who could arouse police curiosity.”
“Do all his associates adopt gang names? Do they not realize the target they then present to the police? I know some feel the name coupled with the reputation will promote fear and inspire compliance, but the risk of identifying one’s membership to the police outweighs that advantage.”
“Mister Wang has contacts with some new gangs who choose not to adopt a name for that reason. It is a step in the right direction, but even Mister Wang admits that their philosophy of dealing only with Asians is still prevalent. I have spoken to him about it, but I am afraid that he tends to feel safe around these people. They are Asian, like him, and tend to shun Westerners. No, for what you suggest, if we are to influence the eastern market, we need a Westerner to open the door. For that, I would recommend Mister Goldie.”
“Ah, the intrepid Canadian,” replied The Shaman. “I wondered if you felt he would be worthy.”
“He has many connections,” replied Lee. “Furthermore, he has never been convicted of any criminal acts. He is welcome to travel anywhere, including the United States.”
“He is like you,” observed The Shaman, “in that you have no criminal record.”
“Somewhat different,” noted Lee with a smile. “Goldie, like Wang, controls a large gang of barbarians. The drug business is different than our other, more corporate, enterprises. Goldie and Wang did not make their way to the top by relying entirely on their intelligence. They are both personally familiar with the use of … lethal persuasion.”
“So, his resumé is different from yours in that you have never had to soil your hands with another person’s blood,” said The Shaman.
“I suppose so,” mused Lee, “but I do respect his intelligence, nevertheless. He has never been convicted and it has been years since the police even came close to catching him. And that was not in Canada. Since then, like your past analogy of the onion, he has developed many layers of protection.”
“Despite what you think, if he is to fill your position, he will not do so without proper screening, including a polygraph.”
“Most certainly. As you have taught me about the onion — the closer you are to the middle, the more intensity exists. If you do not wish to fly someone in, here in Vancouver are several firms that offer the services of lie detectors for corporations.”
“We will decide at the time, but you will mention it to him within the next few days. I will be spending a week golfing at Crown Isle in Courtenay on Vancouver Island. I hope it is as luxurious as the Internet makes it out to be.”
“I have never been there.”
“Perhaps next time I will invite you to accompany me.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, we will meet again next week before I leave Canada. I will wish to know how Mister Goldie reacts to our proposal and the security measures we require. He knows a great deal about us. If he refuses, I would see it as a serious problem.”
The Shaman’s eyes glanced through the glass window of the balcony to where Da Khlot was seated inside before adding, “Should that happen, as Mister Khlot has said, to keep him would be of no benefit.”
“I see no reason that he would refuse. I didn’t,” added Lee with a smile.
“No, you didn’t. And if all goes well, you will be stepping through the last layer of the onion yourself. The protection will be for you as much as for me.”
“He will be scrutinized carefully,” said Lee. “If he passes, would you like to meet him in person?”
“He will be your responsibility. I see no necessity for him to know my name. I’m sure that in time, with the transactions involved, he will figure it out, but I see no advantage in personal contact. His placement is your decision. I hope you have chosen wisely. Your life will depend upon it.”
Lee nodded sombrely.
“Now, this brings us to another small matter that needs to be discussed. Trivial, but requiring prompt attention.” The Shaman paused, smiled, and said, “Like peeling the onion, I hope it does not bring tears to your eyes.”
***
Da Khlot hurried to open the door to the balcony when The Shaman and Lee stood up, signalling an end to their meeting. Lee’s face did not portray the jubilance of a man who had been promised a promotion. His eyes