It is hard to say where did they go for dinner but it had to be another fake italian restaurant and this offered him the final chance of getting rid of the other two idiots and get himself loose in those bars in Wan Chai. Right after the dinner, in fact, the other two had such a strong bowel movement that they had to spend the rest of the night sat on the room’s toilet. It was beautiful. They both had pizza with onion but Mazzei did not, he had some kind of overdone fake “risotto ai funghi”. It was lousy but at least it did not compromise his plans for the evening. He was finally free. Oliver Hardy, for once, would have been fucking around without is second son, Laurel, and, most importantly, without the second and double effective spy, his accountant-brother-in-law and “business consultant”.
The restaurant was in Wan Chai, not far from the hotel, which was also in Wan Chai, not far from the Amazonia, which happened to be in Wan Chai, and everything went right in a reasonable amount of time. While walking toward the Amazonia, Mazzei felt tipsy, not only for the wine they had at the restaurant, also because of the freedom he was experiencing for the first time in a long run. He remembered everything, for once he was able to get to the joint on his own, without guide, without the son-spy and the accountant-brother in low spy.
He passed the Amazonia, a couple of steps ahead, and turned to the right immediately at the cross. Another 50 meters and he would have been set, hundreds of hot women were waiting for him, just for him. On the right, in facts, there was this very small entrance to a long stairway that, going down in the dark, appeared to take you to hell. But he did not enter, he could not enter, because a number of negroes were grouping right there and nobody could go through.
“Is something the matter”? He asked to the last of them, the one closer to him.
“No. They just do not let us in”
“Why, is it too full?”
“No. You are good.” Replied the negro and another one echoed him: “yes, you are good”.
Mazzei did not realize the meaning of “you are good”, what they meant was something like “you are good to go (inside)”.
The two local bouncers at the door did not let them in because they were black.
Hong Kong is not Communist China, that must be understood. In Hong Kong things happen you will never see in China and vice versa. For instance, in Hong Kong they claim to respect the so called “human rights”, the rule of law, they do not have death penalty and the police cannot keep you on suspicion for more than 48 hours without charging you with something they have evidence for. Hong Kong has an historical tradition of freedom, freedom of speech, freedom of sex, freedom of trade, freedom of opium trade, freedom of petrodollars laundering, and so on. On the other hand, black customers are hardly allowed in those bars in Wan Chai, as well as those negro whores from Liberia. In those bars, you could have found hookers from China, not many, from the Philippines, from Indonesia, from VietNam (not many) and, unfortunately, very few, from Laos. If they are black african they stay outside, just as the black customers and the transexuals, those last had to stay out of the bars no matter what color they carried.
In communist China, on the other hand, even if historically the opium trade was prohibited by the emperor, and for this reason many cities were totally destroyed by the coalition armies leaded by the british crown, in those days and age you could have met black pushers casually selling dope in the center of Beijing, precisely in the embassies’ area, and nobody tried to molest them in any way…