The Tsu Fi smiled for the first time. The gwai-lo was arrogant, but the Tsu Fi also knew about him. He was very smart. He knew this kind of business. What was more important, this Cohen had proved he knew how to use information. He could deal with the arrogance, although it would be necessary to teach him a lesson. Perhaps this Cohen could open up new doors for him, doors he had avoided in the past. The thought of a new venture stirred his blood.
‘And you feel no obligation to try to prevent this execution?’ the Tsu Fi asked.
‘It is a family affair.’ Cohen shrugged matter-of-factly. ‘Besides, if I went to the police it would cause problems for my friends.’
The Tsu Fi stroked his chin, still staring unflinchingly at Cohen.
‘How soon?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know that, but when Rhodes dies, the stock will dip and we must be ready.’
‘And if this paper does not turn around?’
Cohen smiled and raised his shoulders. ‘Then I assume I would be in a great deal of trouble. Jam prepared to take that risk.’
The Tsu Fi nodded very slowly. ‘Tell me when you are ready,’ he said. ‘I will give you my answer then.’
‘It will be too late for me to find another investor then,’ Cohen said.
‘You want an immediate decision?’ the old man said with surprise.
‘If you are not interested, Tsu Fi, I’ll have to find someone else.’
The Tsu Fi stared at him again, appraising the arrogant young man.
‘Then my answer is no,’ the old man said.
It threw Cohen off, but he knew the old Chinese was interested in the proposition. If I walk, will he change his mind or just dismiss the idea? he wondered. Cohen was committed. To back off now would be a sign of weakness, and he was more interested in gaining the Tsu Fi’s confidence than he was in the deal itself
‘Well, I am sorry I wasted your time, sir,’ Cohen said and stood up to leave. The Tsu Fi held his hand out into the sunbeam again and stared at the floor.
‘Good-bye,’ he said.
Cohen turned and went to the door and suddenly the Tsu Fi called out to him: ‘Mr Cohen, your face is beginning to sag. Stop downstairs. The man’s name is Ping. Tell him I said you require the needles.’
Cohen followed his advice, He sat in an old-fashioned barber’s chair while the acupuncturist inserted the long, delicate needles carefully in all the secret places. Cohen felt himself relaxing. He sat for thirty minutes with his eyes closed. When Ping withdrew the needles, Cohen opened his eyes. The Tsu Fi was standing in front of him.
‘Keep me informed,’ he said, ‘The money will be available.’ And he left the room.
Cohen ran after him. ‘Sir?’ he called out as the Tsu Fi was going back upstairs.
The old man turned and glared down at him. Cohen took a folded paper from his pocket and held it out to the old man.
‘I, uh, took the liberty of preparing a contract —just to define our arrangement,’ he said.
The Tsu Fi snorted and snatched the paper out of his hand, He wheeled around. ‘Come,’ he snapped. Cohen followed him up the stairs.
The old man took out a match and burned the contract without reading it. His eyes glittered in the dusty sunlight. ‘Now you know what paper is worth,’ he said curtly. ‘And never sign anything, your mark will follow you to Heaven.’
Nine days after Cohen and the Tsu Fi met, Charles Rhodes was killed in an automobile accident. The stock dropped to five before Cohen decided to buy.
After an announced reorganization, it jumped, climbing to twenty-four-plus before it leveled off The Tsu Fi was delighted, having bitten the dragon for a little over two million. Cohen hurried to the Cat Street office to collect his half million.
The Tsu Fi slid ten thousand dollars across the table.
‘What’s this, a down payment?’ Cohen said with a laugh.
‘It is fair payment for what you did,’ said the Tsu Fi.
Cohen leaped to his feet, enraged. ‘You’re the one who told me paper wasn’t worth a damn. I trusted you!’
‘Another lesson,’ said the old man. ‘Never trust anyone.’ He held his hand out to check the time.
‘Put the hand down,’ Cohen snapped. ‘You owe me half a million dollars.’
The Thu Fi looked up at him. ‘Do you want to earn your money or do you want to yell and scream?’ the old man said.
Cohen calmed down. He sat back down, staring at the old con artist.
‘You have much to learn about our ways, American,’ the Tsu Fi said. ‘But you have talent. When you learn, half a million dollars will seem insignificant.’
Thus Cohen became the protege of the Tsu Fi. He opened his own office, a single room on the edge of the Wanchai district with three telephones and a computer. He did all his business himself, another of the Tsu Fi’s lessons (‘Never share your secrets with anyone.’) The Tsu Fi’s advice became Cohen’s bible. Then one day his mentor summoned him to the Cat Street office.
