I arrived at work with the backpack; inside was the pistol and the remaining cocaine.

Given the bust at Hootens, it had never been my intention to bring the gear into the office, but the previous day, after telling Matthews I had an appointment in Central, I’d arrived home to find Ai Lin and three chicks from United American snorting some post-lunch powder off her coffee table. Since others were present I could hardly thrash her, so I joined in.

Countless lines and 2 E’s later it was early morning, I was wide awake, and getting paranoid Ai Lin would use up all the drugs (I had started thinking of them as a life savings of sorts); moreover, Axewell had left a message on my voicemail: I was to be in at 8am sharp for a meeting with him, Fanny Ma, and Matthews. It was important to have the meeting at 8, Axewell explained, because Janie Chandler, 12 hours behind in the US, would participate via conference call.

I got to the office early, 5:25am to be precise. This was Ai Lin’s fault: I’d told her about Axewell’s message, and at 4:30am she had freaked out about her US$250K and forced me to come to the office, screaming that I was throwing everything away.

Hands shaking I locked the drugs and gun in my desk, objective 1 accomplished. I turned on the computer, objective 2. A wave of diarrhea hit me – odd, as I hadn’t eaten since Sunday night – and I dashed off to the toilet where I sat in a stall for 15 minutes or so, shouting at the patrolling guard who shuffled in and knocked on the door, objectives 3 and 4. I did all this very efficiently, mind you, for when I returned to my desk it was only 5:47am.

What to do? Looking out across the ranks of empty cubicles I decided to compose a list of accomplishments to parry the coming onslaught. There was no fresh pad on my desk (only un-read, unsigned memos) so I jimmied the stationery cupboard open with a screwdriver from the techie’s desk. When I sat down to start, I realized I needed a drink - badly.

It’s poor form to be out drinking at 5:58am on a Tuesday, but I had good reasons: 1) The meeting was still 2 hours away, 2) I was coming down hard and needed to take the edge off, and 3) Even I rarely drink at 5:58am on a Tuesday, and it was a special day of sorts.

I took a small, flowered umbrella from somebody’s cubicle and schlepped out into the rain, pad in hand. There were no proper bars, so I went to a worker’s canteen I’d often passed in taxis. Open to the street on one side, it was a garish place filled with working-class Chinese slurping great bowls of brown soup, in which floated chicken feet and chunks of gray meat. There were no empty tables, so I shared one with two surprised triad types. A fierce old Chinese bat approached, demanded something in Cantonese, and yelled something about gweilos when I ordered a big Tsingtao. Everyone laughed.

Successfully merged two sales organizations, I wrote after the first bottle; Maintained client base while implementing joint venture integration, I wrote after the second. Frustrated, I tore the sheet off, crumpled it, and tossed it into a bucket of black water under the table. I ordered a third beer and was halfway through it – my 2 companions had long since finished breakfast, and nobody had joined me although the place was mobbed – when weariness overcame me and I lay my head down.

No sooner than it touched the table than someone was shaking me. Looking up I saw it was much brighter and that the rain had picked up. I peered at my watch – 8:10am.

"Pay ah! Pay ah!" said the fierce old woman, gesturing at my bottle. I dropped HK$100 on the table and raced out. Ten minutes later I arrived dripping in the JV area. In Axewell’s office, Axewell, Matthews, and Fanny Ma huddled together, absorbed in the red folder.

I went to my desk for some panadol. When I opened the top draw the pistol and several bullets slid into view. What order to shoot them? Matthews first, I decided, because he was a vicious little cunt and likely very quick; Fanny second, because she was just as vicious but likely slower than Matthews; Axewell third, because it would be fine sport to see him groveling with his knees shot out.

"You’re late," said Axewell, approaching.

I slammed the drawer. The gun made a heavy clunk and the bullets rolled about. As I fumbled with the lock he stood above me, chewing his pen. Had he seen it?

"You look even worse than usual," he said. "You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?"

"Nah, it’s just the flu," I said. "I feel like shit."

"Nonsense, I can smell the alcohol from here."

"Cough syrup."

"Let’s stop playing games, Stratton. You’re twenty five minutes late for the meeting – it’s your listening problem again, no doubt. Go to the conference room and wait for us."

"Which one?"

"The one where you’ve displayed your view of Kit Matthews as being at the bottom of the organization, of course. It will be interesting to see how he feels about that - Ebbers or no." He walked off.

When the three of them came in they sat directly opposite: Matthews in the middle, with Axewell to his right and Fanny to his left. Axewell grinned, but Matthews looked troubled and kept fiddling with his plastic glasses. His face brightened, however, when he looked up at the white board. "That’s exactly how an org chart should look," he said. "Clients on top. Did you put this up, Jake?"

"Yeah."

"Brilliant. You look terrible. Are you sick?"

"Very sick, the flu."

Matthews nodded and looked back up at the whiteboard. Meanwhile Axewell dialed Janie Chandler.

"Janie Chandler," said the speaker phone.

"Hi Janie, it’s Peter in Hong Kong."

"Hi, Peter."

"It’s the moment we’ve been waiting for, Janie."

"Everyone there? Is Kit there?"

"Yes," said Kit. "Good morning, Janie – or should I say good evening. Ha ha!"

"Golly, it’s so weird that it’s morning over there. I can’t believe it."

"You also wouldn’t believe how big everything is," said Kit. "It’s not at all like the movies and everyone wears western clothes."

She had no response to this, so silence fell again. Presently Matthews adjusted his glasses, tapped the table, and said, "Listen, Jake, let’s get down to business. Fanny and Peter have some very serious concerns about your relationship with All Asia News Base, and I want to hear your point of view."

I nodded and said nothing.

"Well?" Matthews said.

"They’re right to be concerned," I said. "I’ve been concerned about All Asia for years, but…I haven’t been able to say anything."

Axewell and Fanny glanced at each other, surprised. Matthews continued: "In short, they claim that, among other things, you set up non-billing accounts on the U.S. computer system and then billed them locally, without remitting the proceeds to Card Wainright. It would appear they have proof." He nodded at the red folder before him, which had grown to about 300 pages. It sat there like some sort of flat bomb. "I’ve personally reviewed it, and I’m very, very concerned. If these allegations are true, the joint venture will have no recourse but legal action. What do you have to say?"

"It’s an extremely complex situation, Kit."

"Complex?" said Axewell. "Complex you say? I see nothing complex about theft! I see nothing complex about embezzlement! I see nothing complex about a drunken git who rarely comes to the office, and does no work on the rare days he does bother to show up! We’re all adults here, Stratton, so tell me what is complex? Tell me!"

"Easy, Peter," Matthews held up a restraining hand.

But Axewell, eyes bulging behind his thick glasses, was apoplectic. He seized the red folder and opened it to a random page. "Long Term Capital Management! Their librarian tells Fanny Ma that they have a one thousand dollar per month flat fee for Card Wainright Interactive with All Asia News Base, but did Card Wainright ever collect a cent? No!"

"I can confirm that, Peter," said the speaker phone.

"And here, here" - he stabbed a random page with his finger – "an entry from an All Asia spreadsheet about Long Term Capital. It states that of the thousand dollars received every month, four hundred goes to Jakey. Bloody Jakey! Explain that!"

I sighed and looked out the window. The aircon was on at full blast; my clothes were wet and I was getting cold - the sweaty heat from the run to the office had all but worn off.

"I think you should answer Peter," said Matthews.

But Axewell continued: "And here! The South Seas Company! A non-billing account on Card Wainright’s system, but their librarian says they’ve been paying All Asia one thousand US dollars per month for four years. Four years! And on the All Asia spreadsheet, four hundred dollars for this Jakey every month! Who is bloody Jakey? Well?"

"I can confirm that too," said Janie.

"We could go on like this all day," I gestured at the folder.

"And we will!" Axewell threw his pen on the table. "I assure you, Stratton, we will!"

"But the guys have scheduled a number of meetings for Kit today," I said.

"That’s not important, " said Matthews. "I can meet them at the client luncheon tomorrow. Answer Peter."

Oddly, I found I wasn’t scared or even nervous. In fact I felt confident - it could only have been the cocaine. "Let me ask you guys a question," I said to Matthews.

Matthews held his hands up – go ahead.

"Just one, okay?"

"No!" shouted Axewell. "You’ll answer our bloody questions!"

"If I’d embezzled all this money," I said., "I’d be quite well off, right?"

Kit and Fanny nodded grudgingly, but Axewell looked set to leap over the table at my throat.

"If I have all this money," I went on, "why am I here?"

They could only stare, speechless.

"Why am I here? Why am I listening to Peter’s ranting? Why am I not somewhere in the Philippines being rich. Why?"

Axewell picked up his pen and angrily chewed it. Matthews stared and shook his head. "Well," he said, "Why?"

"Because, Kit, I’m the victim. All Asia was a triad operation; if I didn’t play ball, they said…they said…." I covered my eyes with my hand.

"What? What did they say?" said Matthews.

"That they’d…"

"That they’d what?" demanded Axewell.

"That they’d kill me…I never saw a cent."

"Are you serious?" said Matthews.

"Of course...of course I’m serious."

"Bloody Preposterous!" said Axewell.

"You have no idea what they’re like," I said.

"We still have categorical proof that…"

"Proof? Proof? Why am I fucking here if I have all this goddamned money?"

"I think he lie," grunted Fanny. "Why you no tell police? Triad never bother gweilo."

"Tell the police? They’d fucking kill me if I told the police. And Orson Crane was a gweilo, but he was in with the triad guys."

"I find this hard to believe," said Axewell.

"I admit it all sounds strange," said Matthews, "but don’t forget that Jake is an Ebbers MBA, and Ebbers MBAs place a premium on integrity. But I don’t understand, Jake, why didn’t you tell somebody? How could things go on like this for so long?"

I didn’t answer right away; a great sense of hope had taken hold. If I could just convince them to keep me aboard, to look into things a bit more carefully…

"Why do women stay with guys who beat the shit out of them?" I said. "Why’d the Jews stick around for the holocaust? The point is, we all make mistakes. The reason I’m so messed up today is not the flu, it’s because I’ve been up all night agonizing about whether or not to tell you these things. But now I have, and I’m relieved – irrespective of my personal safety. I was wrong to put my safety above the company’s finances."

A hush fell, as if triad members crept about outside, ready to burst in with knives. Despite the stakes it was difficult not to laugh.

"Aren’t we going to go through each account individually," said Janie, disappointed. "If we start with Dressler & Stephen and-"

"No," said Matthews. "I don’t think that’s appropriate. I think Jake should go home and get some rest, and then Peter, Fanny and I should talk things over. Perhaps we can go over the accounts tomorrow."

"Whatever these supposed threats to your safety," said Axewell, "you’re still responsible for every embezzled cent. You understand that, don’t you?"

"It wasn’t your life on the line," I replied. "But I’ve made this mess and I’ll work with you guys to sort it out. If you keep me on for a few months longer, I bet we can recover some of the lost funds. I have-"

"Don’t be bloody ridiculous," said Axewell.

"But…"

"Go home, Jake," said Matthews curtly. "Get some rest." He rose and came around the table. As if I were an invalid, he helped me up by the arm and escorted me to the door.

"I’ll see you at the luncheon tomorrow," I said. "Right?"

"Maybe, we’ll see. Get some rest. We’ll call you."

I tried to say something but he closed the door.

"He’s bloody lying!" shouted Axewell inside. "He’s lying just to save his skin! I bet he squandered every stolen cent on alcohol. Did you smell him? He positively reeked."

"I know he lie," said Fanny. "Triad never bother gweilo."

"I can’t believe something like this could go on for so long without him even telling anybody," said Matthews. "He went to Ebbers! But you guys seem sure he’s lying."

"Of course he’s bloody lying," said Axewell. "We need to take immediate legal action…"

He was interrupted by my bursting into the room. "I’m not fucking lying!"

Axewell whirled so fast his pen flew sideways from his mouth; Matthews jumped to his feet. "Why don’t you people fucking believe me?" I said. "Do you people have any idea what I’ve been through?"

"Easy," said Matthews. "We’re just having a discussion. Go home and get some rest."

"No! I won’t have him calling me a fucking liar!" I pointed at Axewell. "Why am I here if I have all this money? Why? So I can listen to your shit?"

"Probably spent it on the piss!"

I advanced a step but Matthews, who had come around the table, interposed himself. Shorter than I but more filled out, he was so close I could see a spot on his neck where he’d nicked himself shaving. He grabbed the crook of my elbow and led me from the room and toward the elevators. I followed quietly.

In the lift I turned to him. "I’m not lying, Kit. I swear it."

He sighed and slowly shook his head.

"I’m not lying," I repeated as we emerged from the building. Raging beyond the veranda was a full-fledged storm. "Kit, buddy, you listening to me?"

He looked out at the storm for a moment, and said, "You know, Jake, if it weren’t for your Ebbers MBA I’d probably believe them, but something about your story just rings true."

Before I could reply an empty cab pulled up; Matthews opened the door and guided me in. He slammed the door, gave me a thumbs up, and walked stiffly back inside.

When I got to Ai Lin’s I collapsed exhausted on the couch. When she got home from work she shook me awake, the second time that day somebody had done so. "Jake! What happened today? You look like shit. Did you go in looking like this?"

"You made me leave this morning."

She considered this. "Oh, sorry. Hey! Listen, Phil called and said his trip will be cut short. He said he’ll sign next week. All you need to do is hold on for just one week!"

There was a throbbing in my temples; I lay back down.

"Jake! How did it go today? Is everything okay?"

"I don’t know."

She sat quietly as I told her about the meeting.

"So you lied to them?" she asked when I finished.

"Of course I fucking lied to them. The only triad guys I’ve ever seen are tattooed fat guys in massage parlors."

"Do you think they believed you?"

"Peter and Fanny, no way, but Matthews is still on my side, I think."

"Have they called?"

"Beats me, I don’t have a fucking mobile anymore."

"Let’s check your voicemail."

I told her how to do it. I would have been happy to die right there on the couch, but nonetheless through half-opened eyes I watched Ai Lin’s expression as she listened to my voicemail.

"Two messages," she said.

"Who called?"

"Carsolita says she’s being deported to the Philippines."

Fuck, I’d completely forgotten about her. Oh well.

"She’s hysterical," Ai Lin said. "Talking about killing Orson Crane, and killing herself. I’m not sure which, but I think both…you’d better listen to this."

"Delete it," I told her.

She looked at me uncertainly and then pressed a button. "Ah! The next one’s from Peter?"

"What does he say?"

As she listened her intent expression changed to a frown and she started biting her lip.

"What did he say?"

Ai Lin dropped the phone on the couch and raised her hand to wipe a tear making its way down her cheek.

I grabbed her arm. "What did he say?"

"You have a meeting with him and Kit Matthews at four tomorrow. He said you’re not to go to the client lunch…" Ai Lin stifled a sob "…and that you should bring boxes."

"Boxes? Why?"

"Jake! They’re going to fire you!"

"But…"

"Isn’t it fucking obvious! Skip the lunch! Bring boxes! And we’re so close to all this money."

She collapsed into my arms and sobs wracked her. She cried like this for a time but after a while fell asleep. I, however, had slept all day, so holding her I sat staring through the darkness and rain at the shadowy building opposite, thinking about Imelda, Orson, and Thomas and wondering how it had all gotten so fucked up.

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