“Apparently it’s rather infamous,” Tristan said.
“The doorman said that if we wanted to contact the triads, he thought the Walled City would be a good place to start. What do you say about heading over there and giving it a go?”
“Now?” Marissa questioned.
“You’re the one who’s so eager,” Tristan said.
Marissa nodded; it was true. It was also true that her unsatisfying phone conversation with Robert had filled her with nervous energy.
“Okay!” she said.
“Let’s give it a try.”
“Good show,” Tristan said. He got his hat. Together they headed for the door.
The Chinese taxi driver wasn’t enthusiastic about their intended destination.
“I don’t think you want to go to the Walled City,” he said. Marissa and Tristan were already in the backseat of his Toyota.
“It’s not a place for tourists.”
“But we’re not going as tourists,” Tristan said.
“The Walled City is a pocket of crime,” the driver warned.
“The police don’t go in there.”
“We’re not looking for the police,” Tristan said.
“We’re looking for the Wing Sin.”
Reluctantly the driver put the car in gear.
“It’s your heads,” he said.
They pulled away from the hotel and turned up Nathan Road into the gaudy glow of Tsim Sha Tsui nightlife. Just like the harbor, the city was as busy as it had been during the day. Their cab inched through swarms of pedestrians, cars, and buses.
Above, garish neon fights lit the night sky. Across the road hung banners emblazoned with huge Chinese characters.
Feeling overwhelmed by the sights, Marissa turned inward into the taxi. With all the talk about triads, she asked Tristan what they were.
“They’re secret societies,” Tristan explained, “with all the usual secret oaths and rituals. The term triad comes from the relationship among heaven, earth, and man. They started hundreds of years ago as subversive political organizations, but soon found crime more rewarding. Especially the ones that either came to Hong Kong or were founded here. There are supposed to be about fifty gangs in Hong Kong alone, with thousands upon thousands of members.”
“That’s comforting,” Marissa said with a short laugh.
“The Chinese have the dubious distinction of being the inventors of organized crime,” Tristan continued.
“That’s one of the reasons they’re so good at it. Centuries of experience. These days the bigger triads have branches in Europe, the U.S.” Canada, even Australia. Anywhere there is a Chinese community there are likely to be triad members.”
“And maybe also TB salpingitis,” Marissa added.
Tristan shrugged.
“Possibly. But Chinese crime is nothing new.”
“I have to admit,” Marissa said, “until I met you, I’d never heard of triads.”
“I’m not surprised,” Tristan said.
“Most people haven’t. The Mafia gets all the attention and the triads like it that way. But the triads are worse than the Mafia. At least the Mafia has a family oriented morality, no matter how twisted it may be. Not so with the triads. The triads only concern themselves with money. Profit is the only ethic they know.”
“I don’t like the sound of all this,” Marissa said uneasily.
“I warned you,” Tristan said.
The taxi driver stopped on Tung Tau Tsen Road.
“Where’s the Walled City?” Tristan questioned, leaning between the seats to see ahead.
“This is as far as I go,” the driver said. He pointed through the windshield.
“See those tunnel openings across the street? That’s how you get in. The Walled City is this mess here to our right. If you want my advice, don’t go in. It’s dangerous. Let me take you to a nice nightclub, real sexy.”
Tristan opened the taxi door, got out, and held it for Marissa.
“Thanks for your advice, mate,” he said.
“Unfortunately, we’ve got business with the Wing Sin.”
As soon as the door closed, the taxi made a quick U-turn. The driver hit the gas and was off.
“Are you sure about this?” Marissa asked. The taxi driver’s warning and Tristan’s rundown on triads made her wonder how dangerous it was.
“Looks rather formidable, doesn’t it?” Tristan said.
They were standing before a honeycomb of tenements, ten to eleven stories high. The buildings were jammed together and had fallen into utter disrepair. What more recent construction there was appeared to have been completely haphazard. Clothes were strung on lines that stretched from building to building. No roads led into this corner of town. There were only the dark tunnels the taxi driver had pointed out.