had an empty space that needed to be filled, but Chen Pie Sou could not understand what must be obtained to satisfy that void and bring his father home.
“I’ll know when I have it. Then I will return to China for good.”
Now, staring at the ceiling beams of Chen Hap Sing, Percival remembered Dai Jai as a small boy. Percival had often sat at his son’s side at bedtime. Even after Dai Jai no longer needed someone to be at his bedside, Percival would sometimes sit listening for Dai Jai’s breathing to slow. After the breaths became deep and measured, the boy’s limbs would shift. Arms and legs relaxed into sleep, the alertness of day drained out of them. On some nights, particularly if he and Cecilia were not talking, Percival would then go out to fill his eyes with light, his hands with money, his lap with a girl. He consumed all of these voraciously, because they promised to fill a void. But then after these fleeting ecstasies, he emerged more empty.
It occurred to him that he could get out of bed, go find a game and a girl. This thought came like a sign on a road, to a place that he had no wish to visit just now. All of those distractions which had been so enticing in their moment felt like nothing, not even their promise of satisfaction could be summoned. If only he could sit at Dai Jai’s bedside, watching him fall asleep.
PERCIVAL OBTAINED ADVANCES ON TUITION FOR the next semester. He went to money-lending circles, took as many shares as he could, and then used this cash to buy gold. His monthly repayments would be huge, but he would worry about that later. The Peugeot went to a garage as guarantee on a loan. Percival visited the Teochow Clan Association treasurer and was able to borrow two hundred and fifty taels, though only by signing a promissory note on Chen Hap Sing. This was a worry, for the head of the association had always admired the old trade house. Even with Percival and Cecilia’s combined efforts, it was not easy to find so much gold on short notice. His nightmares—of Dai Jai’s splitting skull, or of falling towards the Gold Mountain—woke him nightly in a panic. Daytime was the painful daze of sleep deprivation, as he desperately traded everything, anything, for more gold.
Three weeks after the meeting in the shack, and over a month following the arrest, Percival obtained the last few taels one evening by pawning his Tissot wristwatch. He called Mak. He had accumulated five hundred and ninety taels. He phoned Cecilia, who he knew had raised four hundred and ten, and went to her house. She had her portion wrapped in two cloth bundles. She handed them to Percival. “I’m counting on you to get our son back.”
“I’ve sent word to Mak, to arrange a meeting.”
Cecilia embraced Percival, but when he put his arms around her, she pushed him away, tears in her eyes. “Go.”
The next morning, Percival ate his breakfast on the balcony. Below, on the pink stone steps of St. Francis Xavier, the Catholic priests and Buddhist monks chatted amiably. Percival wondered if he should donate to the church. He had already given especially generous alms to the local temple and lit one of the gigantic incense coils in prayer for Dai Jai. Percival had never been interested in the white man’s faith, but perhaps he should give the church something, just in case it might help. He ate without tasting. Foong Jie was putting a sliced boiled egg in his noodles every morning. She must have noticed how little he was eating. He picked at the egg. He stared at Dai Jai’s vacant chair. Foong Jie had tried to put it away when Dai Jai was arrested, but Percival stopped her from tempting such bad luck. Each morning, he willed himself to sit across from the empty chair. Mak arrived early, well before the start of classes. The fortune in gold sat on the table, two briefcases, two cloth bundles. Percival did not dare let them out of his sight. Mak glanced at the hoard, sat down, and said, “The meeting is today. In the same place.”
“In the countryside? How will I get there?”
“I’ve borrowed a car for you—Chief Mei’s. It has a police plate, so they won’t search it at checkpoints. Safer for the ransom. I told Mei it was the least he could do for you.”
“You think of everything, friend.”
“Get that gold off your hands,” said Mak. “All of Cholon knows what you have here.”
Percival pulled the small pistol out of his pocket and checked the two rounds.
Mak said, “Hou jeung, leave it with me.”
“I have to be sure to get Dai Jai.”
“You will. That won’t help you.” When Percival did not reply, Mak said, “Just do as he says. He could easily turn the gun on you, old friend. Have you ever shot one?”
“No,” said Percival, searching Mak’s face. He wanted to ask, Who is he? Why do you trust him?
Mak realized the question in Percival’s eyes. He said, “A friend of a friend.”
Percival opened one of the cases. He looked at the gold, the smaller leaves tied together in ten-tael bundles, the bars glistening and cold, a fortune in metal, about seven and a half million piastres’ worth, most of it borrowed. He was trusting Mak with this, and more importantly with Dai Jai’s return. “You are sure that he will give me Dai Jai?”
“Have I ever led you wrong?”
Percival closed the case, clasped it shut. To pay for its contents, he would have to return more than he had borrowed. That was the nature of debt. These were sums that his own father could only have dreamed about when he left China. It did not matter, as long as Dai Jai was safe.
“Mak, will you take a few thousand piastres to the church for me? I’ll pay you back.”
“But you’re not religious. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe at the meeting.”
“It’s not my safety I’m thinking about.” He handed his friend the gun.
After breakfast, with the gold in the spare tire well of Mei’s Citroën DS with police plates, Percival set off and drove northeast out of the city. He nodded to the soldiers, only slowing at the checkpoints, which is what a district police chief would have done. They saluted. When he arrived at the bamboo grove, he turned from the main road, drove past the graveyard, walked through the bamboo to the concrete shack, and found that the door was already open.
He called out, “Dai Jai?”
A voice, not his son’s. “Come into the centre of the room.” It was the same man as before.
He went in. He hesitated, his eyes slow to adapt to the dark.
“Please walk forward, Headmaster Chen. Where is the gold?”
“Where is my son?”
“This is not your school. I ask. You answer. The gold?”
“In the car.”
“The keys.”
“I want to see my son.”
“Do you suppose, Chinaman, that you are in a position to make demands? Walk forward three paces,” said the man.
His orders had military precision, thought Percival. He still could not make out a face. It figured that the ransomer was a soldier, for how else could he get to Dai Jai? All of the South Vietnamese Army could be bought, thought Percival scornfully, gratefully. Percival walked into the middle of the room, his feet nervous on the uneven ground. Emerging from darkness, the bench, the oil drums, the stocky figure. Where was his son? There
