The next year was more of the same, except this time Grace Chan had recorded four commission payments. Four? Ava thought. Two paintings were sold to the Wongs that year, not four. Where did the other two commissions come from?
She left the boardroom, the file under her arm, and found Grace Chan. “These two commissions,” she said, pointing to the entries. “Were they invoiced?”
“Yes. I only pulled out the copies of invoices and paperwork relating to the five paintings, but yes, those entries were invoiced. The paperwork is in the back storeroom.”
“Could you get them for me, please?” Ava asked. “And Grace, how many other large commissions were there over that period — commissions not directly related to Kwong and Wong?”
“Quite a few. They were making him wealthy. He could have retired in style if not for the cancer.”
“What were the commissions for?”
“I was never sure. The invoices just say, ‘For consulting services rendered.’ When I asked him what that meant, he said he was doing provenance work on Chinese ceramics for a European company.”
“And you believed him?”
“Ava, as long as the paperwork and the money matched, and as long as he was properly declaring his income and paying his taxes, it wasn’t up to me to question him.”
“I think we should look at all the files and put dates and amounts to these commissions.”
“I’ll get the files.”
It took them more than two hours to go through each file and find the appropriate copies of invoices. Ava recorded everything in her notebook. When they were done, she compared dates and amounts. There were exactly fifteen invoices, each issued shortly after the Wongs had bought a painting from Great Wall. But the commission invoices weren’t made out to the Wongs; they were made out to a numbered company with a Liechtenstein address. The invoice amount was exactly three percent of the Wongs’ purchase price.
“Is it possible for me to make a private phone call?” Ava asked Grace.
“Certainly. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
Ava tried May Ling’s office line first and got voicemail. She didn’t leave a message. She tried May Ling’s cellphone, which she answered on the first ring. “Ava, I was hoping you would call.”
“I’m in a meeting but I need you to answer a couple of simple questions for me. First, the paintings you bought, how did you pay for them?”
“By cheque or by wire transfer, a bit of both.”
“You paid against an invoice, correct?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Always?”
“No invoice, no payment.”
“I need you to do something for me. Get one of your financial people to go back through the twenty transactions. Dig out the invoices and then tell me who, when, and how you paid. It’s probably best to email everything to me. I’d like copies of the invoices and any wire transfers, and copies of the returned cheques — back and front.”
“What have you found?”
Ava heard the eagerness in her voice and knew she was going to have to be cautious about how often and in how much detail she spoke to May Ling. “Nothing yet. I’m just trying to be thorough about recreating the transactions.”
“I’ll have someone do it right away.”
“Thanks.”
“Please call me later.”
“If I have something to report.”
Ava hung up and then used the boardroom phone to call reception. She asked to be connected to Grace Chan. “How was Mr. Kwong paid these commissions, the ones for the supposed ceramic provenance consultations?” she asked.
“By cheque.”
“Do you have the bank deposit slips, the cheques?”
“Not the original cheques; they stayed with Mr. Kwong. I have copies.”
“They will do just fine.”
Ten minutes later she had copies of the fifteen cheques the numbered company had sent to Kwong for commissions. The company’s bank was the Liechtenstein Private Estate Bank. Ava knew what her chances were of getting any information from the bank: zero. She wrote down the address anyway and double-checked the numbered company. If it wasn’t registered in Liechtenstein she might be able to find out something about it.
“You’ve been really helpful,” Ava said to Grace, passing her a sealed envelope with HK$2,000 in it. Grace looked at it but didn’t open it. The lady has some class, Ava thought. “If this works out well, I’ll see if I can find an additional bonus for you.”
“To be honest, the money doesn’t mean that much to me,” Grace said, not raising her eyes from the envelope.
“Pardon?”
“I’m more interested in knowing whether Mr. Kwong was involved in something improper and if I’ve been a party to it. I’ve found all this quite unusual, and upsetting.”
“I don’t know what he was actually involved in, but whatever it was it won’t be any reflection on how well you did your job. I found your work completely professional and beyond reproach. You have nothing to fear.”
Grace looked at Ava. “And I guess Mr. Kwong has nothing to fear now either.”
(11)
Ava went online as soon as she returned to the Mandarin. There was nothing yet from Wuhan. Still, she pushed aside any idea of returning that day to Toronto. There was something odd enough about Great Wall’s accounts to compel her to stay at least until she had figured it out. Wherever it led, she would have fulfilled her commitment to May Ling and could head home knowing she had done all she could.
The thought of home brought her father to mind. How was he surviving the cruise from hell? It was late in the evening wherever at sea he was, but she knew he was a night owl. She punched his number into her cellphone. It rang once and went immediately to voicemail. “It’s Ava. I’m in Hong Kong. The job in Wuhan may not turn into anything worth pursuing, and if it doesn’t I’ll be back in Toronto before you. Give my love to everyone, and tell Mummy I said she’s to behave.”
She hung up and went back to the computer. An email from May Ling with attachments was now in her inbox. When she clicked on it, the email simply said, Here is everything you requested. There were twenty invoices, all from Great Wall Antiques and Fine Art. Five had no payment instructions other than a net ten-day term request; cheques were mailed to the Kau U Fong Road address. The other fifteen specifically requested that the cheques be sent to Great Wall Antiques and Fine Art, care of the Kowloon Light Industrial Bank. An address was provided for the bank, along with Great Wall’s account number.
She checked her notes. The five cheques sent directly to the street address of Great Wall were for paintings Brian Torrence deemed genuine or possibly genuine. The fifteen cheques sent to the account at the Kowloon bank were for those Torrence was sure were forgeries. What was stranger was that the five cheques had been deposited into an account at the Hong Kong Shanghai Bank, which was where Kwong banked, according to Grace Chan’s audit records.
Was Kwong running two accounts? And if he was, why? Grace Chan had made it clear that she wouldn’t have tolerated it if he’d been trying to avoid taxes.
Ava phoned Uncle. “Do we know anyone at the Kowloon Light Industrial Bank?”
“Friends own most of the Kowloon Light Industrial Bank.”
“Then I need you to talk to them.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Great Wall Antiques and Fine Art. Who controlled the account? I need copies of all the activity going through the account over the past ten years.”
“I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
“You have that tone in your voice, the one you get when you have found something.”
“I’m easily excited,” she said.
“I will pretend I believe you,” he said. “What are you doing for dinner?”
“No plans.”
“There is a new Shanghai restaurant near the Peninsula that they say has the best stewed sea cucumber in Hong Kong.”