Chapter 271: The leverage

The Macau Golf and Country Club was an exclusive, members-only sanctuary located on the southern tip of Coloane island.

The car slowed at the gate. Black iron. A guard in a white polo checked the plate, then waved us through. The driveway was paved stone. It crunched under the tires.

I sat in a leather armchair on the terrace of the clubhouse, overlooking the immaculate eighteenth hole. The grass was cut low. It smelled green and fresh, like it had just been watered. Sprinklers made a soft _tss tss_ sound in the distance.

I wore a tailored linen suit. Light. The fabric breathed in the ocean air. A pair of expensive aviator sunglasses rested on the table next to a glass of iced tea. Condensation ran down the glass and pooled on the stone tabletop.

The air was cool. The breeze came off the South China Sea. It smelled like salt and cut grass and sunscreen.

Marcus Lin hurried onto the terrace a few minutes later, looking flushed and anxious. He was wearing a golf polo that was slightly too tight, his forehead shining with sweat despite the cool ocean breeze. His shoes squeaked on the tile.

"Julian, my apologies for the delay," Marcus said, pulling out a chair and sitting down heavily. The chair made a scraping sound. "Traffic on the Cotai bridge was a nightmare."

"Not a problem, Marcus," I said smoothly, projecting the relaxed, untouchable aura of Julian Croft. "I appreciate you making the time. I know the Song Dynasty Trust keeps you incredibly busy."

"Always busy," Marcus agreed, forcing a laugh. It was too loud. It cracked at the end. "But never too busy to discuss a potential partnership. You mentioned at the gala that you were looking to transition into hard assets."

"I am," I said, leaning forward slightly. The linen didn’t wrinkle. "I’ve reviewed the prospectuses for the Trust’s new commercial developments in the northern district. They are ambitious. But ambition requires liquidity."

I pulled a sleek, silver tablet from my jacket pocket and slid it across the table. The metal was cool against my fingers.

"My firm is prepared to offer the Song Dynasty Trust a private equity injection of two hundred million dollars," I said, watching his eyes widen comically at the number. "Structured as a silent partnership. We provide the capital to accelerate the development, and we take a twenty percent yield on the back end."

Marcus stared at the tablet, his breathing shallow. Two hundred million dollars wouldn’t just cover the losses he had hidden from the Empress; it would make him the most successful portfolio manager in the history of the Trust. It was his salvation.

He picked up the tablet. His thumb left a smudge on the screen.

"Julian, this is... this is an extraordinary offer," Marcus stammered, his hands trembling slightly as he scrolled through the preliminary term sheet. "I’m confident the board will approve this immediately."

"There is one condition," I said, my voice dropping to a cooler, more precise register.

Marcus looked up, the greed in his eyes warring with sudden apprehension. "A condition?"

"I am a businessman, Marcus," I said, taking a slow sip of my iced tea. The ice clicked against the glass. It was cold and sharp. "I require stability in my investments. Recently, I’ve noticed a disturbing trend of municipal interference in the Outer Harbour. Police audits, zoning inspections, tax inquiries. It creates a volatile environment for the local businesses."

Marcus frowned, confused. A drop of sweat ran down his temple. "The Outer Harbour? But the Trust’s developments are in the northern district. The Outer Harbour is controlled by the Golden Koi syndicate. It has nothing to do with our portfolio."

"It has everything to do with my portfolio," I corrected gently. "I have... secondary interests in the Outer Harbour. Interests that require the municipal government to look the other way."

The terrace was quiet except for the distant sound of a golf club hitting a ball. _Thwack._ A bird called from somewhere in the trees.

I leaned back in my chair, removing the aviator sunglasses so he could see the absolute, unyielding coldness in my eyes. The frames were warm from the sun.

"I know about the deficit in the secondary accounts, Marcus," I said softly.

Marcus froze. The color drained from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

"I know about the losses in Hong Kong," I continued, my voice a velvet hammer. "I know you’ve been cooking the books to hide the theft from Madam Song. If she finds out, she won’t fire you. She’ll bury you under the foundation of one of your new casinos."

"How..." Marcus choked out, his chest heaving. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything," I said simply.

A waiter passed by with a tray. The smell of coffee and pastry followed him.

"The two hundred million is still on the table, Marcus," I said. "It will cover your deficit, save your life, and make you a very wealthy man. But in exchange, you are going to use your influence within the Trust to call off the municipal dogs. The audits stop. The police pressure stops. The Golden Koi operates with absolute impunity."

"I... I can’t," Marcus whispered, terrified. His voice shook. "Madam Song ordered the pressure herself. If I tell the Mayor’s office to back off, she’ll know."

"Then you better find a very creative way to convince her that the pressure is bad for business," I suggested, standing up and buttoning my linen jacket. The button slid through the hole with a soft sound. "Because if the municipal interference in the Outer Harbour doesn’t cease by tomorrow morning, I’m going to send the unredacted ledgers of your Hong Kong losses directly to the Empress’s personal email."

The sun was bright on the green. It made me squint.

I picked up my sunglasses and looked down at the broken, terrified portfolio manager. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair. Knuckles white.

"It’s your move, Marcus," I said. "Choose wisely."

I turned and walked away. The tile was hot under my shoes.

Behind me, I heard the sound of the tablet clattering onto the table.

My earpiece clicked. "He’s not moving," Nia said. "He’s just staring at the tablet."

"Good," I said.

The car was waiting at the curb. The driver opened the door. Cool air from the AC hit my face.

Li was in the back seat. She looked at me.

"Did he take it?" she asked.

"He will," I said. The door closed. _Thump._

The car pulled away from the club. The gate opened with a slow hydraulic whine.

Outside the window, Coloane passed by. Trees. Water. The sea glittered.

In the morning, the audits would stop.

And the Empress would start looking for who pulled the strings.

And she would find Julian Croft.