'We always get our man'

When searching for inspiration, the modern thriller writer need look no further than the efforts of Hong Kong's graft busters. Murder, intrigue, greed, missing millions and global manhunts are a recurring theme in the war on corruption, especially in a city as besotted with lust for the dollar as Hong Kong. And when it comes to getting their man, the bloodhounds of Hong Kong's Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC) have earned a fearsome reputation. Much of their work is unglamorous - countless hours of sifting through personal records, financial accounts and obscure bank statements. But beyond that, the anti-vice detectives also engage in dangerous undercover operations and covert fact-finding missions overseas. Ironically, it is in the international judicial arena that the ICAC encounters some of its biggest hurdles on the road to justice - and the crooks know this. Often the wily fraudster will flee to a foreign bolt hole, knowing that there is either no extradition treaty between the two countries or that any agreement is shaky. The latest example is the ongoing diplomatic spat between Australia and Hong Kong over the rejection at ministerial level of an extradition request already approved by a court for two men wanted in relation to an ICAC investigation into a short-piling scandal in the construction industry. It has cast a shadow over future relations and is in sharp contrast to the normally smooth process of getting criminals back to face the music. A notable example was former tobacco executive Jerry Lui Kin-hong, who thought he had evaded capture in the United States, but was flown back to Hong Kong in 1997 after a long legal battle. Hong Kong authorities are now nervously awaiting a decision by the Australian Justice Minister, Chris Ellison, on the latest ICAC-related extradition request, for alleged fraudster Ng Ship-ping. A high-ranking former officer with the ICAC operations department says it prefers to take a long-range view of such setbacks. 'We always get our man,' the detective said. In its 30th-anniversary year, the former graft buster points to one celebrated ICAC case with a story-line worthy of any murder mystery. From the steamy jungles of Sarawak to the mahogany-lined boardrooms of corporate Hong Kong, it is a tale of the rise and fall of a multibillion-dollar business empire built on a house of cards. The plot thickens when a senior lawyer of the territory's oldest law firm is found dead in the deep end of his pool, a length of nylon rope tied around a sunken concrete manhole cover at one end, his neck at the other. In a scratchy patch of jungle outside Kuala Lumpur, a senior Malaysian banker is found murdered, his body dismembered, with no apparent motive for his slaying. Back in Hong Kong, another senior Malaysian banker checks into a luxury hotel, meets an associate, places a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, and orders a light lunch and coffee. It is to be his last meal. Strangled with the cord of a bathrobe, the banker's body is placed in a large suitcase and carried to the lobby with the help of a bellboy. The suitcase - with the banker's body stuffed inside - is later found dumped in a banana grove in the New Territories. Three bodies and only one name to link them: the Carrian group. With characters including princes, politicians and members of the British blue-chip investment establishment, the story unfolds into a 10-year manhunt, a lengthy extradition battle and a multimillion-dollar legal wrangle, the implications of which are felt through the city to this day. At the heart of it is a conniving conman, Tan Soon-gin, aka George Tan, who endlessly puffs his cigars, rides in his Rolls-Royce, and backs his business deals using fung shui and a 'mystical feel' for the numbers involved in each transaction. His rags-to-riches, roller-coaster ride eventually ends and - in the face of determined policing and prosecution work - the house of cards tumbles down. But this cautionary tale of 1980s excess has a sting in the tail. And it rests with the one adage that seems to ring true for the dogged investigators of Hong Kong's ICAC: crime does not pay. In the words of Hector Lee, author of Carrian: Robed Men of Justice, reflecting on the rewards of persistence: 'The fact is they [the defendants] were nailed. In other jurisdictions they would have walked free. 'It's an indication of the qualities of the ICAC. It took so many years but they got their men. Without them this would have collapsed.' In June last year, the Hong Kong government recovered assets worth about $4 million from former police staff sergeant Cheung Wing-shu, who was sought by the ICAC for 27 years. Cheung is alleged to have acquired the assets through corrupt means during his 22 years in the force. An ICAC spokesman said: 'This case demonstrates the ICAC's unrelenting determination to pursue corruption and to recover ill-gotten gains through legitimate channels.' Cheung, now 76, was first investigated by the ICAC for suspected corruption in early 1975. During the trial of former police chief superintendent Peter Godber in that year, Cheung was fingered as having corruptly associated with Godber. Godber, who extorted 'tea money' from the hawkers and cafes on his patch and kept a neat little account book tallying his weekly profits, was the first big kill for the fledgling anti-graft outfit. It was the unmasking of Godber, who had ferreted away more than $4 million through corruption, that spurred the governor, Sir Murray MacLehose, to create a specialised law enforcement agency with sweeping powers. Three decades after the ICAC was founded - the anniversary was on February 15 this year - business remains brisk for what is regarded as the world's toughest and most efficient graft-fighting organisation. Former ICAC officer John Tyerman recalls the moment as if it were yesterday when, handcuffed to his fugitive, he brought Godber back to face justice. 'There had been a huge public outcry,' the 57-year-old retired British bomb-disposal expert said. 'People had taken to the streets, waving banners and demanding justice ... emotions were running high. 'But he [Godber] was quite happy. He seemed to accept his fate.' Mr Tyerman, an ICAC section head in the 1970s, said Godber seemed to have exhausted his ill-gotten gains well before his extradition from England to face trial in Hong Kong. 'He certainly never gave any of the money back - we don't know what he did with it. 'When we picked him up in Britain he was living like a pauper, certainly nothing befitting a man of his alleged wealth and status.' Over the 30 years since, 11,296 people have been charged by ICAC graft busters with various offences connected to corruption. More than 8,000 have been convicted. The most significant legacy of the commission is invisible, many observers say. It is in the hearts, minds and souls of Hong Kong. Of 1,500 respondents polled in the ICAC's annual public perception survey last year, released two weeks ago, 30 per cent said corruption would increase next year, compared with 36 per cent in the 2002 poll. According to the ICAC, this means people in Hong Kong are increasingly optimistic that corruption is under control in the city. Among those who believed corruption might rise, more than half attributed it to economic factors. With the battle for the hearts and minds half won, the anti-graft body is a step closer to stamping out the taint of corruption.