Chapter 52
Poe and Esmerée walked under the eleven-metre-high arch that marked the entrance to Chinatown. Poe turned, pointed out the car. ‘That’s where you run to, Esmerée,’ he said. ‘It’s only a couple of hundred yards away. Wait for me there.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Esmerée said. ‘Is this it?’
‘Is this what?’
‘I thought you said we were going to Chinatown?’
‘We are.’
‘But it’s just a street.’
‘It is,’ Poe agreed. ‘It’s one of five Chinatowns in England.’
‘What a crappy country,’ she said. ‘Back home we have twelve Chinatowns in New York alone. A hundred thousand people live in the one in Manhattan. It’s the highest concentration of Chinese people in the Western Hemisphere.’
Poe glanced at her.
She shrugged. ‘There wasn’t a hell of a lot to do in Vincent’s apartment, and I like to read.’
‘Well in Newcastle, Chinatown is mainly Stowell Street.’
Poe liked Chinatown. Loved that red, the colour of good luck, was everywhere.
Doors, windows, lamp posts; everything that could be red was red.
He loved that the council had authorised street signs in Chinese as well as English.
It made Stowell Street feel both exotic and welcoming.
And his admittedly chilli-scorched taste buds thought Chinese food was second only to Indian cuisine.
Estelle had told him there was now a distinct style of food called Desi-Chinese that combined Indian spices with Chinese flavours.
Poe had handed her his credit card and asked her to book a table somewhere.
She’d replied, ‘I’m not your fucking social secretary, Poe. ’
Poe had no plan. He thought of his impromptu visit to Newcastle as more of a reconnaissance mission.
He decided to go into the first restaurant and get his bearings.
Maybe draw up a list of restaurants and shops to visit.
Think about how he might finagle his way into the gold mine that would no doubt be the North East Chinese Association, the cultural and educational institution that acted as a bridge between the Chinese community and the local authority.
He walked into the Szechuan Palace, the first restaurant with a vacant window table. After they’d been seated, he said, ‘Remember, if I say run, you run.’
He had expected some kickback. An adolescent response to repeatedly being told what to do. But Esmerée just nodded. ‘I’ll make like a Russian and Fuckoffski.’
Poe smiled. ‘I’m stealing that.’
‘How do you go about this shit then? You just gonna ask randos if they know who this Kai dude is?’
‘Something like that,’ Poe said. ‘Ninety-nine per cent of what I do is me talking to people who haven’t got the foggiest idea.
But do it enough times and eventually you’ll speak to someone who knows something.
Or they’ll know someone who knows something.
Tilly did the maths for it once. She called it “Poe’s Dumb Luck Formula”. ’
‘How about that bug-eyed idiot?’ Esmerée said, pointing at a gormless-looking waiter. ‘The one who’s just wiped snot on his own jacket.’
‘We want to talk to the Chinese community, Esmerée. Rule number one of finding out stuff: ask the right people. He’s white with ginger hair. Therefore he is not the right people.’
‘Seems like you have a whole bunch of rules for something with no rules, Poe.’
‘That’s exactly what Tilly says. She thinks I just make it up as I go along.’
‘Do you?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘We all do. But when you’ve been doing it as long as I have, you get a feel for who to ask and who not to.’
Esmerée tapped the side of her nose sarcastically. Did a head-bow then put on an accent. ‘Ah, Daniel Poe-san; you are truly the voice of experience.’
‘A little less racism, please, Esmerée. And “san” is a Japanese term of respect, not Chinese.’
‘Sorry.’
‘That’s OK. Anyway, why do you care how I get it done? The important thing is that it does get done.’
‘I’m thinking of becoming a private dick when I get older.’
‘I thought you wanted to be a pathologist?’
‘Who am I kidding?’ she said. ‘I don’t exist. How am I gonna get into med school?’
‘Tilly,’ Poe said. ‘That’s how.’
‘Tilly? What about her?’
‘You want to exist, she’ll give you a background that even I couldn’t crack.’
‘She’d do that for me? Why?’
‘Because she’s nice.’
‘Maybe I’d better stop being a jerk to her then.’
‘Maybe you had. And not for the reason you think. She’ll help create a new identity for you regardless.’
‘Then …?’
‘Y.M.C.A.’ by Village People began blasting out from Poe’s inside pocket. He scrabbled about for his phone while the lunchtime diners scowled at his lack of restaurant etiquette. He accepted the call.
‘Tilly? What’s up?’
‘Nothing, Poe. I just wanted to let you know that my preliminary search for Kai Jin found nothing after his second year at the Royal College of Art. Hester Flynt was right – he did disappear.’
‘You think he went back to China?’
‘I’ve backdoored my way into Baidu, the Chinese equivalent of Google, and there was nothing there either. Not even in the metadata. I’ll keep looking, but I’m not hopeful.’
‘OK, we’re just about to start knocking on doors. Catch up later?’
After Poe had ended the call, Esmerée said, ‘I thought you were into punk rock?’
‘I am. And that’s the main reason you shouldn’t annoy Tilly. She’ll change your ringtone to something you hate, or make your satnav only go to vegan supermarkets, or something equally annoying. The Village People song will be because I argued with her earlier about Batman.’
‘That’s so passive-aggressive. You want me to sort it?’
‘Be my guest.’
He handed his phone across. Two minutes later, she handed it back. ‘Yeah, I dunno what she’s done, but I can’t fix that shit.’
The white waiter came over. Esmerée was right: he did have bug eyes.
Kind of looked like a surprised Stephen Merchant.
Or one of those weird goldfish. He took their drinks order.
They each asked for a Diet Coke. Esmerée wanted ice.
Poe didn’t. The waiter returned with their drinks.
He handed them menus then left them alone.
Esmerée opened hers but didn’t study it. Instead she looked over Poe’s shoulder.
‘What about this guy then?’ she said. ‘He has a tattoo on his hand, I think he’s Chinese, and he’s heading our way. If he sits near us, shall I ask him if he knows Kai?’
Poe turned, about to say he would do the asking. But then he thought it was moot. The guy was heading directly for their table. He glanced down at Poe, then pulled out the seat opposite him. Esmerée budged up to give him room.
‘I gather you’re looking for Kai Jin.’ He had flawless unaccented English.
‘Where did you hear that?’ Poe asked carefully.
‘Are you or not?’
‘We are.’
‘Then it’s your lucky day,’ the guy said. ‘You’ve found him.’