"Call me Jackal," he said, and grinned.

The scene was the 198th floor of Get-Rich-Quick Square in Hong Kong. Their first meeting with venture capitalists. Jackal loved the way the announcement of his given name startled people, knocked them slightly off balance, especially when accompanied by the grin. His boss Jefferson, sitting beside him, was also uncomfortable with this introductory approach, but there was nothing he could do about it. His English name after all was Jackal. It was quietly pleasing.

The other people around the long boardroom table identified themselves. There were three staff from the venture capital firm, two men and a woman, all in sharp, starched clothes with neat, shiny hair. No nonsense. Then there was Jefferson Huang, CEO of MaoPortal, and his team. Jackal, MaoPortal's marketing manager, Miracle Liang the Chief Operating Officer, and Stanley Chen, acting Chief Financial Officer.

The main seat on the VC side of the table, however, was still empty. Everyone unconsciously looked at it.

"Mr Daw will be coming in any minute, he had to take a call from the States," said one of the VC people. "He'll be here any minute."

"No problem," said Jefferson expansively. He played with the mouse attached to his laptop, flipped nervously through the Powerpoint presentation again, restrained himself with great difficulty from opening up his latest greatest fave computer game - SuperOuyangLand. It was a combination fighting, fantasy and history game that involved triads, police, army and various superheroes, and lots of little people who got caught in the action.

On his right was Miracle Liang, his COO. She had shoulder-length hair, an earnest expression and was wearing a grey business suit. She had met Jefferson at college in the United States, she from Dalian, he from Shanghai. They spent a lot of time together. She was in awe of him, he took her largely for granted. He spent a lot of time chasing after classy women who hardly paid him any attention, they remained friends. And round and round it goes.

They had graduated together from the MBA program at UCPB (Pismo Beach). Jefferson had no clear idea of what he wanted to do, although his basic plan was to stay in the United States and find a way to become rich and influential there.

"I don't know," said Miracle. "I'm wondering if it may be better to go back to China."

"Homesick!"

"No!" she protested. "Well, yes, a bit. I love it here in the States, but China is changing too. It's not what it was when we left, you know."

"So they say. In the People's Daily," Jefferson scoffed. "But the old order is still in place and they're not going anywhere anytime soon, even if they ARE hopelessly inefficient, by and large. Take my uncle, Lao Zhang, for instance. He and his factory wouldn't last a minute in a free commercial environment such as the US of A. It's all guanxi and the system, and there's not very much room for new ideas and new companies as far as I can see. Unless they are willing to work within the system as it is. It needs someone to change it. 'All this," he added dramatically, "has got to END!' Diane Keaton, Godfather 2."

"You watch too many movies," said Miracle. "China is messy, it's true. But it's changing faster than the States. It's changing faster than anywhere in the world. And with things developing from such a basic level, it should mean there are lots of opportunities, especially for people like us with MBA degrees from the States."

Jefferson shook his head. "I prefer the States. I'm used to the life here now," he said. "'I'll be back - NOT," he added, in his best Austrian accent with overtones stretching from Toronto to Pudong.

But it set him thinking.

He got a job after graduation with McKansey Associates, consultants to star companies which had lost their way. It was a good opportunity, and Jefferson was proud of his position. He worked hard. But he found himself to be uncomfortable with the sheer size and highly structured organisation of McKansey. And he began to notice that the good people around him in the company were beginning to disappear one by one. Often in the direction of companies that were involved with the Internet.

Then came holidays back to China. Miracle was on her way back to Dalian, so they took the same flight, and talked much of the way, about careers, business, the future. It had been several years since either of them had been back to China, and when they arrived, they were shocked and surprised. Shanghai at least really HAD changed. Many things, fundamental things, were perhaps still the same. But it was clear to both of them that a lot of progress was being made. Maybe Shanghai was a place to consider after all.

Lao Zhang was of the old Communist Party background, a member of the smug, comfortable world of guanxi and perks. He went to the right school, did military training with the right people, got himself into a good circle of people who collectively had an impressive and growing measure of influence, and he started to rise within the bureaucracy. He did stints in managerial positions in a couple of major state enterprises, and at one point was posted to Shijiazhuang to be political commissar at the Shijiazhuang Number 16 Toothpaste Factory. Being from Shanghai, he hated being in such a ackward city. "It's a toothpaste factory, but these country hicks STILL don't brush their teeth regularly!" he complained.

Then at the age of 50, he was given the plum post of director of the Number Two Mao Memorabilia Factory back in Shanghai.

"The salary is not high, but the responsibility is great," said the official who informed him of the appointment. "The People and the Party are counting on you. You know how important Mao products are for our country and our economy."

"It is a great honour," Lao Zhang said humbly.

That night, he calculated how much he was likely to be able to make on the side using different accepted means. Not counting the weekend villa and the chauffeur-driven car, of course.

Mao products WERE huge, for all sorts of reasons. People across China, and increasingly around the world, bought, traded, collected and even worshipped all manner of items relating to Mao, and the Party encouraged the phenomenon for both its ideological value and the resulting revenue. In fact, the economic benefits from the business were so great that there was even talk in the politburo of re-adjusting upwards the original 70-30 assessment made of Mao's positive and negative contributions.

The Shanghai Number Two Mao Memorabilia Factory was a state-owned enterprise and by far the biggest producer of Mao products in the country. And as director of the Number Two Mao Products Factory, Lao Zhang was also automatically chairman of the National Mao Memorabilia Planning Committee, which had ultimate responsibility for setting all production and sales quotas across the country.

Lao Zhang took a long draw on his Marlboro cigarette, and sipped contentedly on his glass of Chivas Regal. Control of one of the biggest and fastest-growing sectors of the economy was within his grasp!

While in Shanghai, Jefferson spent time catching up with old friends, and visited many of the myriad restaurants and bars that had sprung up in his home town since he left for the States. There were also several gatherings of relatives. His mother was very proud of her son, the MBA graduate and McKansey Consultant.

At one of these family dinners, Jefferson found himself sitting next to Lao Zhang, his mother's brother, and they started to talk about business.

"How are things in the world of Mao products?" asked Jefferson. "I'm seeing a lot of Mao stuff around on the streets here in Shanghai - it's more popular than Louis Vuitton, Pierre Cardin and Levi's all rolled into one!"

Lao Zhang nodded. "Business is good," he agreed. "And we believe it will get better yet."

"The Mao badges particularly seem to be a big deal," continued Jefferson. I saw a queue yesterday on Huaihai Lu of people waiting to buy the latest in the badge series. They seem to be attracting more attention than the Snoopy dolls that McDonalds was selling a while ago. Very impressive!"

Lao Zhang nodded modestly. "It's tough, but we do what we can. At the moment, I am thinking that there is also a lot of potential in the fashion area. I am talking to a fashion house from Italy that wants to do a line of clothing and accessories based on the Red Guard uniforms of the Cultural Revolution. Lots of potential there!"

"Maybe in the future, we can co-operate in some way," Jefferson suggested.

The next morning, Miracle rang Jefferson and asked if he had any plans for that evening.

"Yes, dinner with you," he replied instantly. "I know this great little restaurant in a park called Park 01."

They started with a brace of red wines, Argentinian.

"You know," said Miracle, "I'm beginning to think this may be a good place to do stuff, to build something. The Internet is booming in the States, right? China is sure to follow the same path, or something similar. It's just a matter of time. I think we should do something on the Web. Here, not in the States."

Jefferson looked at her admiringly. "We could run a website!" he exclaimed. "Good idea. How about Jefferson.com? Or makemyday.com? Or China.com!!"

"That's gone already," said Miracle. "But the Internet is where the action is, and we should be well positioned to benefit from it. We know China, we know the States, and we know business. Or we're supposed to, with our MBA degrees."

"And I can be the CEO of a dotcom company!" he said excitedly, warming to the idea immediately. "I can be the Gill Bates of the Chinese Internet! That sounds pretty good. China is definitely virgin territory in terms of this kind of business. It's up to us to drag them into the 21st century!" He paused. "But what type of website shall we do?"

Just then, a slim, attractive girl wearing a qi-pao walked past, and Jefferson saw a large dayglo Mao badge prominently pinned on her dress. He leaned over to Miracle. "That's May-May," he whispered. "The trendiest person in Shanghai. Outstanding!"

Miracle ignored him. "The website," she said sensibly, "should be related to e-commerce. It has to be something that will make money."

Suddenly, an image of Chairman Mao sprang into Jefferson's mind. There he was, standing on the Tiananmen rostrum with his hand held high. And Jefferson saw that in his hand he was holding a Personal Digital Assistant!

"Uncle Zhang!" he exclaimed, and jumped out of his seat.

"What about him?" asked Miracle, surprised.

"Why don't we put his Mao stuff online? We can sell the badges and all the other Mao stuff produced by the Number Two Mao Memorabilia Factory. He's the factory director, so he controls the whole thing!"

Miracle considered the idea. "Mao commerce," she mused. "Mao mail."

"Mao dating!" countered Jefferson. "Maostrology! My Mao!! We'll call it "

"MaoPortal!!" they both said together, and laughed.

A South American hangover didn't stop Jefferson from phoning his uncle first thing the next day and making an appointment to meet at the factory.

The workshop floor was crowded with workers ministering to the assembly lines along which passed an endless procession of Mao paraphernalia. A huge red banner spanned the wall saying "Mao Products - benefiting the nation, benefiting the people". Business was booming, Mao sales in the traditional offline markets were growing by the day as the Mao craze sweeping the country moved to ever greater heights. Jefferson saw the latest "Little Red" Mao portable phones moving along one conveyor belt. They looked really cute.

He bounded up the steps and knocked on his uncle's office door.

"Uncle Zhang, I have a proposal for you," he said as he sat down, and a cup of steaming green tea was placed on the low table before him. "I believe it will make a lot of money."

That was a good way to grab Lao Zhang's attention. Jefferson briefed him on the idea of a website to be called MaoPortal, which would include online sales of Mao products, as well as other web based functions like email, e-commerce, e-everything, with a Mao spin on it all. Jefferson did a strong sales pitch, explaining how the Internet was the future, and how this was an opportunity for Lao Zhang and his factory to take a big stake in the future online world.

"But how do we make money on it?" Lao Zhang asked.

"We all take shares in the company, then we sell a portion of shares to investors in return for them putting money into the project. And when we are ready, we float the company on Nasdaq, the stock exchange in the United States, and our shares become very valuable, and we all get very rich." Jefferson leaned back. "That's basically it."

"Sounds good so far," said Lao Zhang. His knee began to vibrate as he pondered. "How many shares will I get?"

"Well, the Shanghai Number Two Mao Memorabilia Factory will have a big share, but we need to put a lot of thought into the precise share divisions. We need to look at the contributions to be made by the different parties, think about who else needs to be involved. The first thing is just to reach agreement on the idea. Then we can work out the details later."

"Hmmmm," said Lao Zhang. "Let me think about it. I will call you tomorrow."

Which he did. "Nephew, I think your plan for a MaoPortal is a good one," he told Jefferson. "And I think the Shanghai Number Two Mao Memorabilia Factory should have a majority stake in it. But I want another company to have a stake as well. It's called NepoHoldings and it is registered in Hong Kong. I will give you the company details later."

"We'll have to discuss the percentages," said Jefferson. "But in principle, it's great. Let's do it."

With Lao Zhang on side, Jefferson decided it was time make the leap. The numbers weren't nailed down yet, but after all, he thought, Uncle Zhang was family, they'd work it out. He flew back quickly to the States, resigned from McKansey (he had to queue at the human resources (HR) office to hand in his resignation letter - it was 1999) and returned to Shanghai.

The spectacular view of Hong Kong harbour dominated the boardroom. It was hard for the people ranged around the conference to stop their eyes wandering out there as they waited.

Jackal was thinking about his plans for the future, not necessarily in tune with those of Jefferson. He dreamt that he was the guy at the top of the table preparing to give the PowerPoint presentation. Watch and learn, be patient, strike when you spot the chance, he told himself. He would not be a dotcom marketing manager forever. He wanted to be the CEO.

They had travelled from Shanghai to Hong Kong the day before, and the shock of the transition from one China Coast city to the other was sharp. Hong Kong was clean, rich, efficient. Shanghai, by contrast, was something of a gold rush town, only gradually escaping from the grasp of the old Chinese centrally planned economy. Official bureaucratic obstacles abounded there, but still, Jackal sensed more opportunity there than in Hong Kong. The city was sewn up tight by the big guys. He wouldn't feel comfortable doing an Internet project here. There was a sense that China was opening up, and that if it was possible to create a company to capitalise on the combination of China + Internet, then it made sense to do it in Shanghai. But you couldn't avoid Hong Kong - it was where the money men hung out.

Lao Zhang divided his attention between the stunning view and his nephew Jefferson, who he viewed with admiration and hope, hope that this son of his sister would help him cash out after all these years in the system. Perks were all very well, he thought, but nothing beats cash. He had personally done well out of his position as director of the Number Two Mao Memorabilia Factory in Shanghai, managing to funnel a steady flow of cash into his own bank account in Hong Kong through a variety of means. But he had a sense that the game may be coming to an end, and he was looking for a way to cash out. Also, he wanted to profit from this Internet thing. He didn't understand it, but he wanted to profit from it. Jefferson was the key.

Stanley Chen, meanwhile, was sitting at the end of the board table, fidgeting. It was his money that got MaoPortal off the ground and Jefferson into this boardroom. If it worked, and if Stone Daw bought into the deal, he would be on the way to a possible big win. If he didn't, and if MaoPortal failed to find any other investors, then he'd lost his up-front gamble. His angel share in the company would be worthless.

There had been difficult discussions about the share holdings. Jefferson suggested that the Shanghai Number Two Mao Memorabilia Factory should have 20 percent of the new dotcom company. Lao Zhang said absolutely not -- 50 percent as a minimum and probably more, and added that it was his product which was being sold.

"But," said Jefferson, "the Mao Memorabilia Factory will have an exclusive contract with MaoPortal as supplier. You'll be earning money twice over. Not fair."

"Our products are at the heart of the whole concept," pointed out Lao Zhang. "Without our Mao stuff, you have nothing."

"But without me, Uncle Zhang, you also have nothing," Jefferson countered. "To be direct about this, Mao Memorabilia is a state enterprise. I don't know how we are going to arrange this, but it will probably require some, shall we say, careful handling."

X-Mozilla-Status: 0009as true.

They finally agreed on 30 percent for Mao Memorabilia, with another 10 percent for NepoHoldings (a British Virgin Islands company set up in the name of Lao Zhang's wife on his last trip to Hong Kong), 30 percent for Jefferson, 10 percent each for Miracle and Jackal and the last 10 percent to be held in reserve for the first "angel" who came their way and gave them enough money to get things rolling. It turned out to be Stanley.

"But Uncle Zhang," said Jefferson. "It's crucial that in return for these percentages that the Mao Memorabilia Factory really gives MaoPortal all the support it needs. We need product, we need good prices, we'll need your help sorting out problems with the bureaucracy. And that, and more."

"Nephew, don't worry. I will arrange it. Also, Mao Memorabilia has control of a piece of land in Pudong that MaoPortal could use. Interested?"

"Of course," said Jefferson. "Thank you. We're going to need a big warehouse if business grows as fast and as far as I hope."

The door to the conference room opened and in strode Stone Daw, the Venture Capitalist from Texas. He was wearing cowboy boots and jeans, and comfortable shirt and jacket of a cut and colour that said money, confidence and new economy power.

He didn't beat around the bush. "Tell me," he said, as he sat down in the seat of honour, "why I should fund you guys."

"I'm glad you asked, and I'm here to tell you!" replied Jefferson with all the confidence and enthusiasm he could muster. He clicked his mouse and the first Power Point slide appeared on the screen, showing the MaoPortal logo superimposed on a red ascended line on a graph.

He told Daw about the basic concepts - putting Mao product sales online, using the connection and market power of the Number Two Mao Memorabilia Factory, in the overall framework of a general interest portal with all the functions necessary to attract true mass market traffic. It would be a one-stop Mao-based online information, trading, people-oriented integrated one-stop-shop type website, a Mao portal - a Mortal!

"We'll have a search engine function -- Ask Mao!, and online Mao-auctions, Mao-dating, Mao-advertising and finally Mao-classifieds, which we're thinking of calling massifieds, in an echo of the Cultural Revolution."

His last slide showed the MaoPortal logo with the main slogan they planned to use for the publicity campaign - as soon as they had the money to finance one: "MaoPortal is the Sun in Our Hearts!"

There were questions from Daw and his associates on the market size, the expected revenue, the proportion of the turnover of Lao Zhang's company that would be shifted to the web company. Jefferson was well-briefed and answered all the questions well.

"We see MaoPortal.com as a really fun project," he said when the questions appeared to running to a close. "We hope you will join us for the ride."

Stone Daw leaned across the table and stabbed him with a look filled with silicon daggers.

"Son, I am not here for the fun," he told him coldly. "If I give you my money, I want to look after it, and grow it. Business is serious, and don't you forget it."