Conduct in Question

Chapter 15

Harry lit a cigarette and returned to his beer. In the mirror, he caught a dark reflection of a small, familiar figure gliding between the tables. To Harry, he certainly looked like Albert Chin. He sat down with someone Harry did not recognize, perhaps one of the members of the Hong Kong conglomerate.

Harry grasped Stephen’s arm. “Look in the mirror,” he whispered. “That’s my new client over there.”

“What’s his name?”

“Albert Chin.”

Harry was now turned three-quarters around on the stool to watch. Their end of the bar could not be seen from the lounge. Chin was hunched over the table talking rapidly and punctuating his words with sharp jabs of his finger. Their voices rose, but Harry could make out no words. The other man raised his hand, as if to calm Chin. From his briefcase, he withdrew a thick manila envelope. He slid the package across the table to him.

Albert Chin dropped the envelope into his briefcase as the waiter appeared with drinks. He threw his napkin down and shoved back his chair. With briefcase in hand, he marched angrily off toward the washroom.

Questions raced through Harry’s mind. A payoff? What was going on? He slid off the bar stool and strode down the hallway in pursuit, leaving Stephen staring after him. He slowed his pace, then halted outside the washrooms.

Following men into washrooms was a bit ridiculous, but some instinct drove him onward. Taking a deep breath and straightening his tie, he opened the door and sauntered in. The coast was clear. Only one of the three cubicles, on the far wall, was occupied. Harry entered the one next to Chin.

Between the metal divider and the white-tiled wall of the stall was a space of about two inches. He saw the back of Chin’s head through the crack. Harry watched him count out—what, thousands? hundreds of thousands?—of dollars from the envelope.

Was Chin getting some kind of payoff? For what? With just a twinge of guilt, he thought of the two hundred thousand he had tucked into the bank yesterday, and, of course, the trip to the Bahamas, courtesy of Mr. Chin and his conglomerate.

The door to the washroom opened.

“Albert?” The voice was low and angry.

Chin flushed the toilet and exited the cubicle.

Harry had no idea what his client and the other man said in Chinese, but he could not miss the underlying tones of angry insistence from both of them.

After they left, Harry headed back to the bar. and sat heavily on the stool beside Stephen..

 Chin and his companion had left.

“That is really weird. Chin’s just been paid off for something. He was sitting in the can, counting a huge wad of money.”

Stephen shrugged. “Money flows in mysterious ways, Harry. Best not to ask too many questions.”

It was after seven when Harry left Stephen. Moving slowly up Bay Street toward the car park, he tried to approach the Chin puzzle logically. Of course, nothing prevented his client from dealing with anyone he wished. But the cash had to be a payoff for something. No legitimate deposit or down payment would ever be made that way. At that point, Harry’s thought process stalled.

With the evening to himself, he debated whether to pick up a couple of files from the office and bring them home. On the other hand, the baseball game was on television. It was a chance to relax.

On the broad plaza of the Old City Hall, a man with a guitar stood in the shadows beside a wheelchair.

“Mister?”