The Wild Beasts of Wuhan Read Online Free PDF Page A

coming with us?”
    “I’m not needed.”
    Ava nodded, then went to a public washroom with her shopping bags and carry-on. She was still dressed in the Adidas training pants and black Giordano T-shirt she had worn from Curaçao. She knew she’d have to change but wanted to wait until she was in the lounge, where she could shower and have some measure of privacy. She removed her laptop and some T-shirts and underwear from her carry-on and placed them in the new computer bag. She then pulled the tags off her new clothes and shoes and packed them neatly into her Shanghai Tang “Double Happiness” carry-on.
    Twenty minutes later, Ava was checked in, through security, and walking into the Wing lounge. There was no sign of Uncle. She sat in one of the large Balzac chairs dotted around the lounge and opened her laptop. She punched “Wong Changxing” into the search engine and found multiple entries that described the man almost as a folk hero. Wong was the son of factory workers, had virtually no education, yet had built an enormous empire through a combination of unrelenting hard work, determination, foresight, and smarts — or so the official line went. The government held him up as an example of the unlimited possibilities and success available to every Chinese citizen. Ava wondered what Uncle would have to say about him.
    She looked up and saw Uncle at the entrance of the lounge. He was standing at the sign-in desk, his head barely visible above the counter. Uncle was, she assumed, in his seventies or early eighties, but he had the skin and hair of a younger man. He was about the same height as she was and weighed maybe ten pounds more. He was dressed in his usual uniform: a black suit and crisp white shirt buttoned to the collar, with no tie.
    She walked to the lounge entrance to greet him. He smiled when he saw her, and then frowned when he saw how she was dressed. “You need to change,” he said. “There is the dinner when we arrive.”
    “Hello to you too,” she said, as she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “I have my change of clothes with me. I was waiting until you arrived before going to the washroom.”
    “I just finished talking to Wuhan and it was on my mind,” he said. He reached for her hand. “It has been too long between visits. I am very happy to see you, as beautiful as ever.”
    “Hardly,” she said. “But give me a few minutes and I’ll see if I can do better.”
    “And I will find us a place to sit.”
    In a private cubicle the size of the bathroom in her condo in Yorkville, one of Toronto’s ritziest neighbourhoods, Ava showered, put on a clean bra and panties, and then laid out her new clothes. It was her experience that most Chinese businessmen preferred the women they employed or did business with to dress conservatively. Ava chose the black cotton slacks and the more modest Cole Haan pumps, and offset the dark palette with her new pink Brooks Brothers shirt. It was bright but plainly cut and, buttoned close to the neck, it would look professional enough. Besides, given Uncle’s monochromatic look she felt they needed a little colour. The Shanghai Tang cufflinks completed the outfit and contrasted nicely with her shirt.
    Ava applied a light touch of red lipstick and black mascara and then sprayed some Annick Goutal perfume behind her ears and on both wrists. She freed her shoulder-length glossy black hair from the rubber band, brushed it, and then pinned it up with her favourite hair piece: an ivory chignon pin. The pin had come from the pouch where she kept her jewellery; Ava also took from it a simple gold crucifix, which she slipped around her neck, and a Cartier Tank Française watch. The watch was the most expensive piece of jewellery she owned; she liked the way it spoke to success and professionalism.
    When she strolled back into the lounge, she could feel all eyes following her. She walked slowly, her head held high, her shoulders back — a woman full of