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Chairman wants you to attend the event."
    The name hits me. As far as I'm concerned, DellaFave is pro-business. One would say he's my kind of candidate, the kind of guy I should rub shoulders with. Over the years I've proven a lot with the money I made. But it is certainly not with early retirement in mind that I’m selling the company. I want to dabble in politics for a change. I want to show these big-nosed Americans that a Chinese man's power is beyond the physical labor of building their railroads.
    It’s eerie that somebody else has figured out my next move. I’ve underestimated these downtown Chinese bumpkins. I open the envelope and find an invite to a $1,000 per plate dinner at the Waldorf on January 14th, 1985, the very night before I leave for China. Dong Kee fans out ten $100 bills - crispy as if fresh out of a Chinese laundry - and explains, "The thousand dollars is for the dinner. The Chairman thinks it's imprudent to reveal that we're behind this. We want you to go as an independent supporter who happens to be Chinese. You see, as a Chinatown civic leader, Chairman Siew has always openly endorsed Democratic candidates. We think it's now important to be on good terms with both parties so that the Association can truly help our community in the long run. Times have changed. It never hurts to have our man in Albany at all times."
    Invitation still in hand, I ask, "But why me? I'm not even a Siew. With all due respect to Mr. Siew, I've never met him."
    "That's precisely the point. Nobody would dream about the friendship between the Chairman and Boss Lou," Dong Kee says, squinting like a fox. "The Chairman thinks you have the makings to be the first Chinese-American Republican.”
    “That’s still a rare breed in this town, you know,” I say. "Tell Mr. Siew I'm flattered to be in his good graces, but I've already made plans to go abroad."
    Heavy Set suddenly walks toward my desk and stands between the armchairs. I notice that his left hand pinkie is missing the last joint, a sign of being an avowed gangster. I am reminded of the reports I occasionally read about on mysterious deaths in and around Chinatown involving meat cleavers and other handy weapons. I wipe my forehead with a handkerchief.
    Dong Kee props the red package against my pen set and says, "Chairman Siew knows Boss Lou is a wise man that understands what's best for himself and his business. Besides, we know you won't be traveling until the fifteenth."
    My office turns deadly silent. I can hear the Omega on my wrist go "DellaFave; Siew. DellaFave; Siew." I'm between a rock and a hard place. I've been made an offer I can't turn down.
    "What does Mr. Siew want me to do at the dinner?"
    "Nothing, absolutely nothing, Boss Lou. Just go, shake hands, and have a good time. That's all."
    "And then?"
    Dong Kee smiles now. "There won’t be a ‘then’. You continue to build your prosperous business and we wish our friendship will last as long as your good fortune."
    Siew's strategy reminds me of an old Chinese saying: "To angle for a big fish one needs to use a long line."
    "Oh, there's a little something for you. The flight to China is long and we want you to be comfortable. Here's an upgrade from Business to First Class on JAL. Please, Boss Lou, no insult intended. Just a small gesture." He hands me the boarding pass folder and sticks out his right hand. "Thank you very, very much, Boss Lou. I'm greatly honored. Sorry we didn't have a chance to make an appointment."
    “My regards to Mr. Siew,” I reply, rising to shake his hand, a hand, I’m afraid, would lose a finger or two it failed to shake mine on this occasion.
    “Your command obeyed,” he says, bowing slightly.
    "Lotus, see the gentlemen out," I summon on the speakerphone.
    Loosening my tie, I pull at the top button of my Brooks Brothers' shirt, the first thing Lotus always does.
    It dawns on me that Lotus is a Siew.
     
    It was a few years ago that I was last at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. It