Читать книгу The Snakeheads - Mary Moylum - Страница 13

The following morning, Kappolis showed up bright and early in Nick’s office with two large cups of Costa Rican coffee. The Mandarin Club owner had a nine o’clock interview with Nick in his office.

If first impressions are what counts, Sun Sui blew it right off the top by arriving late for his interview with Nick and insulting him.

“You’re over an hour late.” Nick made a show of looking at his watch.

“So? You’re a public servant. Aren’t you here to serve the public?”

Nick inwardly cursed Sun. Arrogant son of a bitch! Looking him over, Nick came to the opinion that Sui didn’t come across as someone victimized for protection money by Asian triads. He looked like what he was: a successful investor immigrant, the kind Australia, Canada and the United States were all trying to woo. He was dressed in an expensive grey silk suit, designer suspenders and European brogues.

At the sight of Sui’s lawyer trailing behind, Nick knew for sure the interview was headed downhill. Of all the immigration and refugee lawyers Nick knew, Don Verster was the one he admired the least. The two men took each other in with hostile looks.

“Good morning, Mr. Slovak. I see we meet again. How long has it been since the Ibrahim deportation case?”

“Not long enough,” replied Nick.

Kappolis glanced curiously from one man to the other, but he kept his thoughts to himself. As if reading his mind, Verster threw him a suspicious glance.

Nick explained the detective’s presence. “Detective Kappolis and I frequently work together on immigration cases. It’s usual practice for him to sit in on my interviews and assessments. You could say he keeps me in check. Makes sure that I’m not violating anybody’s constitutional rights.”

Verster gave Kappolis the once-over. Kappolis gave him a friendly smile and handshake. From Verster’s expression it was hard to tell if he had bought Nick’s bullshit or not.

The real reason Kappolis was present was because Nick needed a witness, or nothing Sui said could be used as evidence. The interview wasn’t being recorded; it couldn’t be without Verster’s consent, and he wasn’t likely to give it. Nick couldn’t testify, no way he could appear as a state prosecutor and a witness on the same case. But Kappolis could be called if necessary.

Nick had decided to take a polite approach at this point, and not make any direct accusations about gang activity or illegals. As Sun pulled out one of the client chairs across from the desk and seated himself, with an air of composure, Nick got the definite impression that the man before him was an old hand at official interviews. Most non-citizens were downright uneasy in the presence of immigration officials. Not Sun. One more reason to dislike him.

“This interview is part of our follow-up to our investor immigrant program. I’ve reviewed your application and I’ve got a couple of questions regarding the Investor Immigrant Application you filed in Hong Kong several years ago. You stated in your application that you intended to open a restaurant and nightclub.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Nick studied the papers in front of him. He said in a careful tone, “From my personal tour of the Mandarin Club …”

“Your personal tour?” Verster interrupted in a belligerent tone. “A thousand or so applications and you, head of the investigations and enforcement branch, are giving my client personal treatment? Well, Mr. Slovak, from where I sit, that smells like you’ve got my client under the microscope. Why’s that?”

Obviously the courteous, go-slow approach was not going to work. “Because it looks more like a strip club for lap dancing and solicitation than a sit-down, knife-and-fork, eat-in establishment.”

“It’s an entertainment palace, Mr. Slovak.”

Sun Sui sat, full of ease, watching his lawyer answer the questions.

“It caters to those who want to eat, sing karaoke, dance or watch others dancing. My client’s market study told him Toronto was like New York and L.A. And there was an excellent opportunity for this kind of business. Any business-school grad would be able to see the common sense of taking advantage of market conditions.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what this is? Trafficking in people and prostitution takes advantage of market conditions?”

“Are you making a finding of fact, Mr. Slovak? Or are you merely smearing my client’s good name?”

“The evidence we have is this. Two hundred and sixty-three foreign work authorizations have been issued since the club opened two years ago. Mr. Sui may or may not be aware of what’s going on at his club, but that number seems excessive. I don’t think there’s any shortage of women in this country willing to work as exotic dancers. And my staff has been looking into how many of these so-called entertainers have claimed asylum when their visas expired. From our checks so far, quite a few.”

Sun Sui spoke at last. His English was only slightly accented, his voice well-modulated but defiant. “Yes, some of my girls have made that decision. And yes, my girls do more than waitressing. It’s something along the lines of a supper club, and I agree their outfits are very thin. Go to another club like mine and you’ll find that’s customary. However, I don’t see myself as a trafficker in people. Or girls for that matter.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m a businessman. An employer of beautiful girls from small villages all over Asia. I offer these girls the opportunity to leave their backward lives and see more of the world. If they wish to use their beauty to find husbands here I see nothing immoral in that.”

Sui was a guy who could think on his feet.

“Girls without underwear, giving extra services like blow jobs. You see nothing immoral in that? Turning village girls into prostitutes isn’t immoral in your book, huh?”

“I don’t pressure them. Those girls who want to make extra money, offer extra services. They are showgirls. Perhaps they look like prostitutes to you. That doesn’t mean they are prostitutes.”

“You know what they say in this country? If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is a duck.”

“Sun, don’t say another word! Mr. Slovak doesn’t have the best of intentions here.”

“Oh, come on, Verster!” Nick slapped the file folder against the corner of his desk.

“This meeting is over,” said Verster, standing up. “My client hasn’t broken any laws or immigration regulations. He filed 263 applications to bring in a bunch of good-looking women on temporary work permits. If you think that’s abuse of procedures, it would be more productive of you to question your own immigration officers on why they signed them off.”

Nick stood up too. “Your client peddles drugs on the third floor of his supper club.”

“My client does not peddle drugs and has never observed anyone selling illicit substances in his club. And he’ll testify to that under oath, Mr. Slovak. So what if his business venture isn’t politically correct and his club isn’t a highbrow affair? Mr. Sui isn’t a politician courting votes from the morally conscious middle class like yourself.”

Nick brushed this aside. “Whether the drugs were free or for sale is a moot point. The fact of the matter is, drugs were being used there. In my book, prostitution and the possession of drugs are offences under the Immigration Act as well as the Criminal Code. There is also the fact that casinos are known to be big moneylaundering operations.”