"I met your father once," the Kuang told Victor over cigars and whiskey. “He would've been proud to see the man you've become."
Perhaps.
Victor remained undecided about that. He had taken his reformed triad even further than his father had envisioned in a mere four years. But Raymond had died in a jail cell. A victim of aggressive cancer that had gone undetected until he started coughing up blood.
It meant that he'd never have to serve the time for the charges brought against him, unlike Jake's grandfather. But he’d only been in there as part of a guilty plea deal. His father had agreed to plead guilty in exchange for them dropping the charges against his son, who hadn’t managed to elude capture like Phantom and Han. Otherwise, Victor would be rotting in a Japanese jail cell himself.
Victor was free. But forgiven? His father's old associates might think so. But Victor would never forgive himself.
Fortunately, he didn't have to give the 24K dragon an answer. In the Chinese mafia underworld, The Silent Triad was more than a name. They were a reputation.
So not expecting any reply from Victor, the 24K dragon moved on to the next subject.
“About your proposal to share our New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut territories. I agree this might be a good idea. We have accumulated so many blessings that our many territories have become a bit unwieldy for us. It might be helpful to have a partner. Someone to move on our behalf when we get in…disagreements with the Irish and the Italians who believe the neighborhoods we wish to occupy belong to them. At least the ones who refuse to make deals with us.”
Kuang chose his words carefully. Victor approved. It meant that unlike many of the old Hong Kong triads, the 24K might survive the changes that would keep on coming with the 21st-century.
The old triads were steeped in rituals and xenophobia. But the new triads had to be smarter, more adaptable than that. For the new triads, business was business, and they were open to deals with anyone good at making money.
“It is rare to find a triad dragon as future-minded as you,” Kuang observed as if echoing back Victor’s thoughts. “But it is also rare to meet such a young dragon. I would like you to be a bit older before we come to a formal agreement. I have a daughter the same age as you, maybe eight years younger.”
Han and Phantom flanked Victor, standing on his chair's right and left sides. It wouldn’t have been polite to exchange looks with them. But he didn’t have to see their expressions to know what they were thinking. Eight years was a lot younger than Victor, not the same age at all.
“I can't even trust her to drive,” Kuang continued, apparently not seeing the discrepancy. “She wrapped my Rolls-Royce around a tree just a few months ago—with five of her friends inside.”
Kuang slapped his knee and let out a barking laugh. “It was a costly nightmare. She's out of control, that one. I wish I could trust her.”
He let a significant beat go by before adding, “Perhaps when she is married to a man with a firm hand, I can.”
This might've sounded like the words of a typical rich Chinese father with typical rich Chinese daughter laments to an outsider. There were more Chinese millionaires than ever these days, and their children often landed on the front pages of tabloids for their outlandish escapades.
But Victor was not so modern that he did not understand where Kuang was going with this.
This time he did exchange a look with Han. Just the look. He found absolute silence suited him in negotiations, and he never signed. Fortunately, he never had to with Han nearby.
“Perhaps these problems with your daughter might be something Victor could help you with,” Han suggested with a slight bow of his head. “After we have proven ourselves to you in the States, of course.”
“Of course,” Kuang agreed, bowing his own head. Slightly.
He raised his glass. “Now, we shall toast to our alliance. Gon bui!”
Victor couldn't repeat the words as Han and Phantom did, but he raised his glass all the same.
Later, as Victor, Han, and Phantom settled into the club’s VIP area to celebrate with the rest of their men, the colorful lights streaming overhead seemed to tell their story.
Their future was looking very bright indeed.
“Is that who the fuck I think it is?” Phantom asked, disrupting their celebration.
Han and Victor looked over to see Luca Ferraro, the son of one of New York’s most infamous crime families. He was drinking champagne with a large guy who looked to be of Middle-Eastern descent.
“What’s an Italian mobster doing at a Chinese-owned club?” Han asked out loud what all three of them were thinking. He brought out his iPhone, his fingers flying over the keys.
