Chapter 59
Esmerée’s trick hand picked up the teapot and smashed it onto the table.
Xiang and his son jumped back in surprise.
Poe didn’t. He had been expecting it. He thought a pattern was emerging.
He would voice his opinion to Bradshaw later.
After Esmerée had apologised and explained what had happened, they shared the cleaning-up.
Xiang, having been in the service industry for decades, made quick work of it.
He whipped off the tea-soaked tablecloth and replaced it with a clean one.
‘How much do I owe you?’ Poe said.
Xiang waved him away.
Chao said, ‘It’s a knock-off of a famous Yuan Dynasty teapot. We buy fifty at a time.’ He refilled their paper-thin cups. ‘This restaurant also belongs to our family.’
Poe turned to Esmerée. ‘I’m going to discuss the Red Chamber now. Do you want to stay, or do you want to leave?’
‘I’m going nowhere.’
Poe didn’t question it. She had the right to make that decision. ‘Tell me about them,’ he said to Chao.
‘They named themselves after Dream of the Red Chamber, one of the four great classical novels of Chinese literature. It’s a detailed, multifaceted study of how society was structured during High Qing-era China.
One of the main characters is Zhao, concubine to Jia Zheng, the master of the great Rongguo House.
She plots to murder her way to be head of the household, but it ends up costing her her life.
Zhao is the best-known of the Dream of the Red Chamber’s concubines but there are several more. ’
‘I assume this is just a polite way of saying the Red Chamber run prostitutes?’
Chao shook his head. ‘The Forty-Fours and the Wo Shing Wo run prostitutes. The 14K run prostitutes. The Red Chamber’s business is concubines.’
‘Forgive me, Chao, that’s just semantics. Men paying to have sex with women is prostitution.’
‘Red Chamber girls are not prostitutes, Mr Poe. They are chosen when they are eighteen years old. They go through two years of general training until they are matched. They then go through a further year of training specific to their new master. On their twenty-first birthday, the concubine enters an exclusive, binding twenty-year contract with their master. I don’t know what the current rate is, but fifteen years ago, when I first heard about it, the brokerage fee was one million dollars a year.
Half goes to the Red Chamber; the other half is held in trust.’
‘For?’
‘For the woman, of course. On her forty-first birthday, she receives it as a lump sum. At least ten million dollars, more if it’s been invested wisely.’
‘And the tattoo?’
‘Because the business was so lucrative, the Red Chamber were soon dealing with imitations. Cheap knock-offs, like the Yuan Dynasty teapot your … friend broke. Other organisations would claim to be the real thing when all they were doing was putting lipstick on a pig.’
‘Nice analogy, asshole,’ Esmerée said. ‘Real nice.’
Chao lowered his eyes and apologised.
‘Grab me a beer and we’re even.’
‘No more beer, Esmerée,’ Poe said. ‘Please, Chao, continue.’
‘The Red Chamber came up with an elegant solution. A literal stamp of approval. A gifted portrait artist, Kai Jin, had run up debts with the Forty-Fours. The Red Chamber bought those debts and coerced Kai into becoming their tattooist. I’m told that his tattoos are singular works of art.
Beautiful portraits of the concubines. The tattoo cannot be imitated or forged, and because of that the Red Chamber were able to protect their investment.
Of course, their competitors immediately tried to do their own tattoos, but Kai’s skills were unmatched and he became the Red Chamber’s most valuable asset.
A Kai Jin tattoo is a symbol of quality.
Cast-iron proof that the man is purchasing the genuine article.
It’s why Kai isn’t allowed contact with his family.
The Red Chamber fear rival gangs will make an attempt on his life. Try to level the playing field.’
‘Don’t they enjoy the protection of the Forty-Fours?’
‘I think the Forty-Fours tolerate them, but only because they bring in so much money.’
‘How much?’
‘I believe it’s negotiated every Lunar New Year. But if my time with the Forty-Fours is anything to go by, they would expect twenty-five per cent of all earnings.’
‘That’s a lot of money.’
‘Red Chamber concubines are a lot of woman,’ Chao said.
‘And they aren’t just indoor toys. They are refined.
Capable of being in whatever company the man keeps.
They might be introduced as a visiting relative or a personal assistant.
Some men publicly refer to their concubine as their girlfriend, wife, even. ’
‘What a bunch of jerks,’ Esmerée said.
Poe was expecting another hand incident, but thankfully she seemed to have it under control. He took a drink of tea.
‘I’m not buying it,’ he said after he’d put down his cup.
‘Men who can afford this type of service don’t need this type of service.
There are plenty of high-class escorts available to people with money.
They don’t need to spend a million dollars a year.
Not when they could spend a thousand pounds a couple of times a week. ’
‘Which brings us back to my earlier point. Red Chamber girls are not prostitutes, Mr Poe; they are concubines. They are trained to read body language and micro-expressions. It’s about need, and anticipating that need.
I’m told they know what their master wants before he does.
And yes, I understand the sex is extraordinary.
Nothing is off limits. If their master wants it, the woman will enjoy providing it. ’
‘Let’s say I believe you,’ Poe said. ‘Let’s imagine there is an organisation out there that provides this extraordinary service. And let’s pretend it’s run the way you say it is.’
‘It is.’
‘Then I can’t see how anyone is breaking the law. Morally it’s iffy as hell, but the exchange of sexual services for money isn’t illegal in Britain. Soliciting is, but paying for sex isn’t.’
‘I didn’t say anyone was breaking the law, Mr Poe.’
Poe took out a picture of Esmerée’s mother’s tattoo.
‘A few days ago, a pornographer called Mark Buckby was murdered because someone told him this tattoo was an urban myth. That person is missing. And three hours ago, a chucklehead with a badly drawn dragon tattoo accosted me in the Szechuan Palace and said if I didn’t stop looking for Kai Jin, they would chop me and Esmerée into bite-sized pieces.
For a supposedly above-board business model, these people are remarkably quick to anger. How do you explain that, Chao?’
‘What can I tell you, Mr Poe? They’re triads. They do things differently.’
Poe thought back to Mark Buckby’s broken body. His ankles and knees pulverised with a meat tenderiser. The knife in his neck that opened his jugular vein.
‘Yes, they do,’ he agreed.