Chasing the Dragon (24 page)

After completing his self-justification, he began to attack.

“You are a fool. You have lost that money. You may have thought you were doing something very noble by paying for that girl, but I know her and know that she is not going to change. She is going to get back to the same thing … Do not think she is going to be grateful to you or change her life in any way. You have just seen the end of that money. You have been tricked into making a completely wasted gesture.”

“That doesn’t really matter,” I said. “I’ll tell you why I did it. Have you heard about Jesus?”

He had heard some of the Bible stories.

I explained, “Jesus is the One who did all those miracles. He was the one perfect man who has ever lived; He only did good, healed people and raised them from the dead, but His enemies put Him on a cross and killed Him. He died for my sake, but He did not wait until I was good before He died for me. He never said He would die for me only if I changed. While I ignored Him, He laid down His life for me, and even as He was dying, He still said He forgave me. That is what Jesus did for me and that is what I want Maria to understand.” I stopped, uncertain if he had understood my English but aware that he was too proud to speak Chinese.

“She won’t change; she will go back to her old ways. It was a wasted gesture,” he repeated.

“I would rather be a fool and lose the money. After all, what’s losing the money? Jesus lost a life. I would rather be a fool and lose money than be a cynic and see her go to hell. Now she has a chance of a new life, whether she wants to take it or not. It is up to her now. I cannot change her life, but she has the opportunity; Jesus made that opportunity.”

Michael opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came. He had been struck dumb. His mouth opened and shut and his lips formed words, but his throat was paralyzed by emotion. Minutes passed; still he could not speak. His eyes filled with tears. Finally, with his eyes turned away, he croaked, “I have nothing to say.” And then he was silent.

I never saw Michael again, but I was joined in the lift by one of the club employees, whom Michael had granted permission to come after me.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked. I was surprised and a little nervous of his motives, but he went on, “I want to hear about being a Christian. Can you tell me where there is a place I can go?” It was three in the morning and there was nowhere nearby where we could talk except a bar, so we sat there for the rest of the night, our coffee cups on either side of an open Bible.

By this time I had started to take boys into my house and obviously could not invite Maria to share it, even if she were willing to come. We had already discovered that helping such girls was much more difficult than helping the boys, as very few of them wanted a new life. Many had no feeling of doing wrong; they knew that society officially disapproved of their profession but felt that the stigma attached was well worth the freedom they gained. They were free to enjoy themselves, make money and escape the drudgery and anonymity of the Chinese housewife.

Most young girls retained their illusions for some time. They loved their boyfriends romantically and willingly supported them, and only realized that they were being exploited several years later. By that time, they knew no other life and
discovered that they had not bought freedom at all but were captives to the game. There were no homes for retired prostitutes, and no pensions, either. A girl had to become hard and either attach herself to a wealthy man or trick her protector so that she could amass money for the years when she would no longer be desirable or serviceable.

Even if a girl genuinely desired to change her lifestyle, the men she supported would naturally resist, and there might be as many as seven or eight of them. Some girls would have liked to leave but were in debt to the club where they worked and feared their pimps. During my visits to Maria’s ballroom, I met many such girls. Long before they admitted their desperation, even to themselves, they were popping pills in the girls’ rest-room while I chatted with them.

One evening, I received a phone call at Lung Kong Road from Frederick, one of the Walled City Club boys.

“Poon Siu Jeh,” he spoke very quietly. “I have a friend who has been beaten up for trying to leave the Triads. This person is desperate and has nowhere to go to escape. Can we come to your house?”

“Fine, Fred. What about tomorrow morning?” I answered. I liked the idea of the church being a sanctuary.

“Too dangerous,” he said. “My friend cannot risk being seen by the gangs. We will come when it is dark.”

The following evening, I opened the door to receive my smuggled fugitive and saw with a shock that Fred had delivered a girl. Because of the lack of gender in Chinese speech, I had naturally assumed that it was a boy running from the Triads. Actually, she looked more like a beanpole than a girl; she was emaciated and had arms and legs like stalks. Her eyes were dark and bruised. Hurriedly, I let her in and tried to talk to her, but she would not utter a word that evening or for some time to come. Nods and headshakes sufficed for her conversational needs. Her name was Angel.

Frederick told me that she had been employed as a prostitute by a gang in Mong Kok. This was because her mother had
no room for her in their resettlement room. Several members of the family were already sleeping in the passage, so the mother gave Angel to the man who asked for her, saying that she hoped they would marry. She knew that he was already married, but she convinced herself that marriage was not out of the question and that the partnership would be economically advantageous.

It did not work out that way. Instead of the man providing for her, Angel found herself not only supporting him but also four or five others. Every night she was sent to a brothel, where she worked. Some of the brothels employed boys as young as 14 to “watch” the girls. The boys sat and played cards, looked at television or ate; they were there to make sure the girls worked proper hours and did not escape. They had no need to use force. One night Angel did not turn up for work, and when she returned to the Mong Kok flat she was beaten up by her boyfriend. He told her that he would beat her to death if she did not go to work in the future.

Angel did not want to be beaten anymore; neither did she want to continue this work, but she had nowhere to go instead. If she went home, her boyfriend would find her; if she rented a room, the Triads could locate her within 48 hours. She had no friends except other bar girls who would also be with their men. The only other person she knew was Frederick, so she went to him. He had nowhere to conceal her, so she came to us.

Angel looked 17 but was actually 25 and rather simple-minded. After a few days she understood enough to accept that Jesus loved her, not because she would go out and earn Him money, but because He loved her as she was and forgave her. So she became a Christian, and we saw some kind of animation light up her vacant eyes.

Although she had started a new life, poor Angel could obviously never be free to walk around in Hong Kong while the situation remained as it was. This was unfinished business, and gang law required a settlement. There had to be a
gong-sou
, or talk-out, to decide on a separation fee before Angel was officially transferred. Otherwise, if she were seen in the street, the gang
could snatch her back, disfigure her, throw acid at her or start a gang war against us.

I arranged with Angel that we should meet her former boyfriend. I phoned him and chose the Hong Kong Hotel Coffee Shop, because it had several entrances and exits and we could not be trapped. It was also public enough to prevent Angel’s men from abducting her without attracting attention. I also rang the police and told them that we were having this kind of talk there and, whereas it obviously did not warrant anyone coming down to make arrests, it would be helpful if someone were around keeping an eye open. They kindly agreed.

One of the Lung Kong Road boys accompanied Angel and me to the hotel, where we found a whole table of Triads sitting with the boyfriend. As the discussion progressed, I gradually became aware that dotted around the coffee shop were several more tables occupied by their gang brothers. They watched us and directed questioning glances at Angel’s boyfriend. I guessed that these dozen or more men were all there because they could only imagine that Angel had fled to another Triad. I could see that I was not making much of an impression.

I left Angel to do the talking, until I realized that she was not discussing anything at all but agreeing with everything her ponce said. It was a habit of years, and I could see us leaving the hotel and getting into separate taxis while she meekly went back to being a whore. I entered the conversation but the boyfriend was adamant; he would not release her. He then became quite maudlin and disgusting as he tried to convince both me and himself that he really loved and missed Angel.

“A very strange way you have of showing your love,” I retorted, “sending her out to do this job and expecting her to support you. I think you are just sorry about losing your income.”

“I am not willing to give her up. She is rightfully mine. She was given by her parents,” he persisted.

“Angel has no chance of any kind of life with you—you cannot even marry her,” I said. “She wants to break away and start a new life. She has come to believe in Jesus.” This meant nothing
to him, and he commanded Angel to leave with him. I hung on to her arm so he could not force her. The Lung Kong Road boy hung on to her other arm, and thus in unwieldy formation we walked out of the door and into a taxi. We were pulling away from the curb, relieved that Angel was still with us, when the boyfriend leaped at the vehicle and climbed into the front seat. He would not leave, so I directed the taxi on a long detour so that he would not find out our address. I did not want him to trace Angel.

Our front seat rider swung around to glower over the back of his seat. “My boss will be extremely angry about this. He will not let Angel go. This matter must be finished. I need your phone number.”

I refused to give the number and said that I would contact him again and we could talk some more. At last he climbed out of the taxi and we went home.

It was all very unsatisfactory, and we decided that Angel should not go to the next talk-out because they might actually snatch her back. We called and made an appointment to see them again. They said we could choose the place, so I chose the Diamond Cafe, just opposite our flat in Lung Kong Road. Angel’s boyfriend advised that this time it should only be Angel and myself: Nobody else should come; he would come by himself and not bring anyone else.

I did not completely trust him about this. I was also worried about the threat of violence from a different direction, for the boys in Lung Kong Road were getting quite protective about Angel and me. This was just what I did not want to happen, because if there were any trouble or any violence, despite the fact that they were Christians, their instinct would be to fight and, therefore, they ought not to be in such a situation. So we spent the morning looking up the stories of Gideon and Jehoshaphat in the Old Testament, where they were facing impossible odds but did not have to fight at all; simply by praising God or by singing they got the victory.
³
I wanted our boys to know that we did not have to fight. I was not particularly
worried for myself; although I would be really frightened if somebody wanted to kill or slash me, I would not be likely to grab a knife and stab him back. More likely I would fall to my knees, pray and die. This would be rather much to expect from the boys.

A couple of hours before the meeting was scheduled, the street was beginning to fill as Angel’s men were staked out at various points and up back alleys. I had the boys lined up on our roof where they could see into the cafe without being seen themselves. I said, “Your job is to pray, and if you see any violence going on you can ring the police, but you are not to rush out to defend me or anything like that.” They were all ready to run into the Walled City and get Goko to send out men to fight the other gang. I had to explain forcibly, “As Christians you can’t do this; you can’t fight a spiritual battle this way, you’re not to get involved physically.” We really prayed about this, and then I went to the appointment with one boy, leaving Angel behind.

When I got to the café, I found that this time Angel’s boyfriend had not come himself but had sent his gang leader, who also was a burly brutal figure. There were also five or six of his cohorts there, and I knew there were others outside. He was furious that I had not brought Angel; obviously, they had been all ready to snatch her.

“Don’t think I’m going to stand on ceremony just because you’re a Jesus lady or you have something to do with the church,” he said. He did not know that I had anything to do with the Walled City, so I foolishly attempted to witness by mentioning some of the boys, once Goko’s followers, who now were following Jesus. He leaped to the conclusion that I had something to do with the 14K.

“Right,” he said. “That settles it. We’re not going to stand on ceremony with you any longer.” He banged on the table furiously and got up shouting until the whole cafe was terrified. “You have to produce this girl. We’re not going to let you go until you do.”

He ranted while I tried to tell him about Jesus; but he didn’t want to hear. I was stuck. I thought,
I tried to tell him about Jesus and he doesn’t want to hear that, neither is he going to listen to reason about the girl. I really am cornered
. I was frightened.

“Excuse me, can I make a telephone call?” I bleated. I telephoned my house, which they still did not know was opposite, and spoke to Willie, an old Etonian, who was helping us for a year.

“Don’t look now, but outside the cafe there are two cars with men with knives in them,” he said, and it sounded as if he were speaking out of the side of his mouth. “They’re waiting there.”

I was terrified out of my mind, so I whispered to Willie, “Call the police.” I went back to my seat and told them that Angel was not coming, so they would have to do the talk-out with me, and that Angel wanted to follow Jesus. They could not understand what I was talking about; I was certainly no substitute for her.