Perhaps most surprising of all was that the food was delicious.
Even if in the end they weren’t quite sure what it was, they heartily enjoyed it.
Leaving the boisterous restaurant, they stepped out into the street, whose traffic had scarcely lessened from rush hour time.
They were on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong in the Tsim Sha Tsui section. Rather than hail a cab, they decided to walk back to the hotel.
The city was ablaze with color and light. Huge neon signs stretched two stories high. Every shop was open, their windows filled with Panasonic radios, Sony Walkmans, cameras, VCRs, and TVs. Every third doorway was an entrance to an underground bar or nightclub. Music blared. Attractive, saucer-faced Chinese women in tight, Chinese-style dresses beckoned with coy smiles. In addition to the noise and visual panoply, Marissa was bombarded with an array of smells: a potent combination of food, cooking oil, incense, and diesel exhaust.
Despite a press of people, Marissa and Tristan were able to talk as they walked, provided they stayed close enough.
“I’ve got an idea about contacting the Wing Sin Triad,” Tristan said as they waited for a traffic light.
“Wonderful,” Marissa said.
“What is it?”
“The concierge!” Tristan said.
“Those blokes are supposed to know everything in the city. If he knows where to eat, he probably knows the triads.” Tristan flashed a knowing smile.
Marissa rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t a masterful suggestion.
“I have an idea, but not about contacting the triads,” Marissa said.
“It might be helpful to visit one of the big hospitals in town.
We can find out if TB is currently a problem here in the colony.
We can even ask if they’ve seen any TB salpingitis.”
“Good thinking,” Tristan said.
Once they reached their hotel, Tristan insisted they go directly to the concierge’s desk. While they waited to speak with him, Marissa began to have second thoughts about questioning the concierge about the triads- She thought it would be like going to New York and asking to get in touch with the Mafia. Excusing herself, she stopped by the front desk for their passports, then went across the lobby to wait in a sitting area.
“Can I help you?” the concierge asked Tristan in impeccable English.
“I think so, mate,” Tristan said. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening, then he bent forward.
“I need some confidential information.”
The Chinese man leaned away from Tristan, eyeing him uneasily. sai’d’ I want to talk to somebody in the Wing Sin Triad,” Tristan “I’ve never heard of it, sir,” the concierge said.
“Come on now,” Tristan said. He took twenty dollars from his pocket and put it on the desk.
“I’ve come a long way.”
“Triads are illegal in Hong Kong,” the concierge said. He pushed the money back to Tristan.
“I don’t really care about their legal status,” Tristan said.
“I just want to talk to somebody in the Wing Sin. I need some information. I’m willing to pay.”
“I beg your pardon,” the concierge said, “but I don’t know anything about triads.” He seemed nervous, even edgy.
Tristan studied the concierge’s face for a moment, then nodded.
“Okay, but why don’t I leave this twenty here in case you remember. We’ll be here for a few days.”
The concierge looked down at the twenty-dollar bill with disgust.
It was hardly enough to justify the risk. As far as tips and squeeze were concerned, the Australians were the worst. They truly were barbarians.
The concierge raised his eyes and watched the man cross the lobby and meet with a dark-haired Caucasian woman, then head up to the bar. As soon as they were out of sight, he reached down and picked up the receiver on one of his many telephones. He’d had a lot of strange requests since he’d worked at the Peninsula, but t1tis was one of the strangest.
Marissa swirled the ice cubes in her glass of mineral water and listened to Tristan reminisce about his childhood in a suburb of Melbourne. It sounded idyllic. He’d commuted each day to an English-style public school in the city via a green tram and a red train. He’d had a stamp collection and went to church on Sunday.