White Gold

by Caitlin O'Connell

  “How long have you known about how much money your father had saved?” Sam asked.

  “Only a couple days.”

  “How did you react when you found out?”

  “I insisted that he let me put the money in the bank.”

  “Did he agree?”

  “He laughed.”

  “We have evidence that the Guangzhou ivory cartel, Kwan Woo Dun, is trying to take control of Hong Kong’s underworld from the Sun Hee Un,” Sam explained. “They have taken over Bird Street. Any evidence that it could have been them?”

  “The Sun Hee Un has control of the Da Xin Ivory Carving Factory in Guangzhou, and the Kwan Woo Dun are upset about that. But I think this is not related.”

  “And what did you say that Jin Jin’s son was upset about?”

  “He didn’t agree with whatever his father had been up to in the last year. He said it put the whole family in danger.”

  “Do you know what Jin Jin was up to?” Sam asked directly.

  Li shook his head. “No.” He broke down again. “The children shouldn’t have to see such things.”

  Ling-Ru put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Li. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “I should have known.” He wept. “I just needed to support my family.”

  “No, Mr. Sung. This is not your fault. But we need to understand the history,” Sam explained. “What was the relationship between your cook and your father?”

  “She takes care of him.”

  “How long do you think Smara could have known about the money he was hiding?”

  “I’m not sure exactly what she knows. She may not have read the notes to me, but she would have had to have brought the pen and held the paper to his mouth.” Li covered his face. “Who would have garroted a man who couldn’t move? All they had to do was take the stuff and run. Why would they do that?”

  “Do you think she was intending on giving you the notes?”

  “What do you mean?” Li looked surprised.

  “Look, Mr. Sung. Please understand. We can’t leave any possibilities uninvestigated. Smara was here at the time of your father’s death. Unfortunately, that makes her a suspect. And if the Sun Hee Un is in any way involved, we don’t want to give them any opportunity to cover their tracks. We have to move quickly.”

  “Yes, of course.” Ling-Ru handed Li a tissue and some hot tea. He wiped his face and took a sip. “Smara has been with our family for three years. She has been totally dedicated to her work and to taking care of my father. She is only seventeen. I just don’t see any way that she would want to bring harm to him or to my family.”

  “Perhaps she didn’t intend to.” Sam got up. “But if she had known about his winnings, she could be considered a potential threat to his safety. And it’s clear that Smara had to have known something of this from the notes. Either she or some other person, like Jin Jin’s son.”

  Li shook his head, incredulous.

  “Do you know anything more about the favor your father had asked of Jin Jin?”

  “No.” Li took a deep breath. “My wife is going to find Jin Jin’s wife on Bird Street to get information. There must be a connection to the Da Xin ivory factory. The manager paid my father a visit three days ago. They hadn’t seen each other in years.”

  “You mean Mr. Hang?” Sam scribbled down some notes in a pad.

  Li nodded. “He brought him another nightingale.”

  I paced the small shop. Mr. Hang had told me other things, but why not about the nightingale that he brought to Li’s father? Between two murders and my hotel being burnt down, and Mr. Hang’s cryptic response to my questions about nightingales and the meaning of the letters NNS, the truth seemed more and more elusive. I needed to get into the office to finish the DNA analysis of the ivory from Jin Jin’s boat. Maybe the clues would be more straightforward coming from the African side of the equation. But first I needed to see Marcus and find out what the story was with Mr. Hang.

  When I sat back down to let Ling-Ru know I was going to leave, I made the mistake of looking over at Li’s father. They had covered his body in a sheet, but his toenails were still visible. It startled me to see them again, as if nothing had changed. It wasn’t rational, but somehow I had expected them to look different on a dead man.

  I couldn’t help but wonder about his final moments. Utterly defenseless—his gray eyes wide with terror. His hands would have been limp at his sides while he was being strangled. It wouldn’t have been silent. I imagined the murderer’s face contorted with effort as he finished him off.

  I had the sudden morbid urge to lift up the sheet and look into his frozen eyes, to search for clues of his executioner’s purpose, as if it would be imprinted on his irises. But I thought better of it, and my eyes fell back onto his toenails. They looked exactly the same, yet everything was different. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but on a second glance, it finally seemed fitting that they were black and unmoving.

  Testing Bonds

  I texted Marcus from Li’s apartment to let him know that I was back in Hong Kong. He wanted to see me immediately. I didn’t even try to contact Craig or Jon. There were so many unanswered questions that I knew only Marcus could answer.

  I arrived at Marcus’s office at ten o’clock the following morning. He had hot water waiting. “Tea?”

  “Sure.” I sat down heavily, eager to get started.

  He waved his hand across an impressive tea selection. “I’m sure you have a favorite by now?”

  I didn’t have the energy to read the labels, most of which were in Chinese anyway. “Surprise me,” I said dismissively. “No, wait.” I thought back to my dim sum tea tasting with Ling-Ru. “Do you have Iron Goddess of Mercy?”

  Marcus looked impressed as he scanned his wall of tea and pulled out a red tin can with Chinese characters written down the side. “Hang said you had a productive visit?”

  “Yes. He’s not what I expected.”

  Marcus scooped a teaspoon-sized portion of rolled-up tea leaves into two mugs and poured hot water over the leaf pearls. “Oh? Care to elaborate?”

  I drew a blank. “Not really.”

  “Perhaps his integrity took you by surprise?”

  “And yet, Sam didn’t seem to trust what Hang was saying.”

  “Curious.” He paused. “Do you have any idea why?”

  “No, but I got the sense that the feeling was mutual.”

  “Most interesting.” He took a sip of tea. “There’s been a new development. Do you remember a fellow by the name of Jimmy Johnson?”

  “Jimmy Johnson…Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “You spoke on the radio recently. In the Gulf of Tonkin. Ring a bell?”

  Instantly, my head was filled with the voice of Jimmy Johnson and his southern accent over my radio as I flew over the gulf in the dark. “Yes, that does ring a bell.”

  “He got in touch with me yesterday. He is offering you his services.”

  “What services?” I sat up. “And why me?”

  He smiled smugly. “I guess he took a fancy to you.”

  “What’s he offering?”

  “Jimmy figures the kind of smuggling traffic that he sees crossing the border of Myanmar could be considered a national security breach, so just as well to have you along on one of his flights to see if the conservation community could help put a stop to it. Seeing the routing and making a plan for how to trap one of these caravans could be helpful.”

  “Why would he do this?”

  “Jimmy loves elephants and it kills him every time he sees them having to navigate those mountains. He wants to help.”

  “What aircraft?”

  “One of your U.S. spy planes.”

  My eyes narrowed. “An EP-3?”

  Marcus nodded. “The U.S. Navy EP-3E ARIES II.”

  “The U.S. military has clearance to fly these areas?”

  He took a sip of his tea. “He wants to fly tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow
?”

  “That’s when he suspects you’ll see some activity.”

  There was a world of difference between an EP-3E and a Cessna in terms of negotiating those treacherous mountain ranges. But the EPs were very large and flew slow and low, not allowing for any stealth.

  “Does Craig know?”

  “He will.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Trust me on this one.”

  “Trust you? Craig is my boss. I’m not going behind his back.”

  Marcus leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Didn’t your experience in the Caprivi teach you to question everyone and everything?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Wasn’t Nigel a surprise?”

  “Yes, so?”

  “Have you ever had a reason to doubt Craig?”

  “No,” I responded immediately.

  “Think about that before answering so quickly.” He scrutinized my expression. “Anything odd about scheduling or planning that was just slightly off?”

  I couldn’t help but remember the poor timing of the incident in the Gulf of Tonkin.

  “See?” He could read my expression. “No one is above suspicion in this game, Catherine. Humor me. I’m going to tell you something that very few people know.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Craig had a partner who dealt in certain prized objets d’art.”

  “Out of the Forbidden City, I know.”

  Marcus looked impressed. “Craig lets his underlings in on more than I had expected.”

  “Craig is a very private man, but an honorable one.”

  “Maybe so. But had you been questioned about Nigel in the beginning, wouldn’t you have said the same thing about him? Hard to remember the Nigel you first met, isn’t it?”

  “Where are you going with this?”

  “Craig’s partner got in a little deeper than Craig had anticipated.”

  “Yes, he was murdered,” I said flatly, determined not to let this guy have the upper hand.

  “Yes, and before that unfortunate incident, it was no longer clear where Craig’s loyalties lay.” He leaned forward. “The triads know what they’re doing, Catherine.” He paused. “They know exactly how to make things personal—to draw you in and then imprison you in a hell you can’t even imagine.” He penetrated me with his knowing eyes. “They make it impossible to escape.”

  I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw his Iron Goddess of Mercy tea leaves. “This sentiment seems to be coming from a very personal place.”

  “The thing is, we all need to be tested. Even that South African lover of yours—shifty bugger.”

  “Can we keep this professional, please?”

  “My apologies. Look here, you and I both have a unique opportunity here to test loyalties. Nothing personal, as you say, but a necessary evil. Think of it as something you’re doing for the elephants. If Craig’s clean, he either won’t ever have to know about this, or he’ll forgive you. Either way, you win.”

  I couldn’t help wondering what Craig would think of this conversation.

  Marcus noted my silence. “You forget how recently Craig has come onto this scene. The Chinese pride themselves on long and deeply embedded, ritualized relationships. Two years is barely enough to place Craig above the map of suspicion. Like a tea that hasn’t steeped long enough, or a suit with too modern a line—haste, or novelty, equates with suspicion.” He smiled. “And we know how Craig is about his tailoring. A little flashy for my tastes. Perhaps too flashy for the locals.”

  “And I suppose you think you’re the perfect cup of tea.”

  He sneered at me. “I’ve been in China for ten years. My eyes are mature enough to at least warrant a conversation at the table.”

  “Or get your hands dirty.”

  “As I said”—Marcus shifted in his chair—“you need to test everyone in this game, and I’m giving you the opportunity to test someone who’s in a position to do you a lot of harm. And if I’m right, do great harm to the cause.”

  “And what will this mission be testing exactly?”

  “Craig knows what’s going on down there,” Marcus reasoned. “Why would my buddy know more than him? Why wouldn’t Craig have proposed this opportunity?”

  “Really? Is that all you’ve got?” I felt the immediate urge to jump up and scream in relief. Craig had been my rock since the beginning of this investigation. I couldn’t stand the thought of having to challenge him. And in the past few days, I had completely lost my footing with this mission. But I refrained from jumping. Or screaming. Marcus didn’t deserve my emotion.

  Marcus nodded. “Leave no stone unturned, Catherine. Remember what you just went through in Namibia.”

  “Can I have a customs colleague join me?”

  “There’s no chance of getting a Chinese national onto one of your spy planes. But it’s a long way down to Mengla. Wouldn’t hurt to have company. From there, Jimmy will arrange to get you delivered to the U.S. base.”

  I was relieved that I wouldn’t be taking a bus. “Where am I going to tell Craig that I disappeared to for the next few days?”

  “I talked to him yesterday. He’s in Macau. Won’t be back until you return.”

  “Macau? He didn’t mention that to me.” I had known that Craig’s partner Patrick had kept some of his artifacts in Macau. Perhaps Craig was going over to collect the rest of his teapot collection.

  “It just came up, apparently.”

  Could Craig have known all along that ivory was to be transferred from Myanmar tomorrow night, and that’s why he sent me down there well before it was scheduled to take place? It didn’t seem possible.

  As much as I wanted to catch these guys, I resented the fact that Craig was under Marcus’s scrutiny. It made me feel more alone and isolated than I already did. One positive outcome of not seeing anything during the flight would mean that Craig would have passed Marcus’s test.

  I tried to map out the next forty-eight hours, and if it hadn’t been for the thought of Ling-Ru’s company on this mission, I would have felt completely alone in the world. I said my goodbyes and left.

  Murder at Monkey Table

  Ling-Ru and I took a two-and-a-half-hour flight to Kunming from Hong Kong and then a private charter flight to Mengla, in Xishuangbanna. Mengla was a convenient place to meet up with Jimmy at the base and Mong La, the border town, was only a hundred and sixty kilometers away. Given there couldn’t be too many paths that traversed the rugged mountainous border between China and Myanmar, I didn’t anticipate the flight would take a whole day.

  The area was called the Golden Triangle and was controlled by a renowned drug lord and his National Democratic Alliance Army. The town catered to Chinese visitors who crossed the border to partake in the many illicit industries offered there, including prostitution, drugs, gambling, and endangered animals. But we were after something different—an elephant-back safari with a particularly heavy load.

  When we got to the hotel, Ling-Ru informed me that she had made a reservation for us at a restaurant that had a dinner show offering cultural dance and ethnic cuisine. I didn’t really want to be entertained, but Ling-Ru insisted that I experience the local fare. I think she secretly thought we’d be safer in a public place than in our hotel room, but no amount of discourse could prove it, so I relented. Besides, the number of anonymous phone calls offering a free couples massage in our room was getting old.

  I didn’t want a late night as my flight with Jimmy was early the next morning. He was scheduled on a signals reconnaissance mission off the coast of Myanmar, with a flight plan to cover the area surrounding Mong La.

  According to Jimmy, our flight path would coincide with an elephant-back safari of smugglers. And if there weren’t any smugglers at the time, at least we’d be able to map the well-worn route to catch the next group going through.

  A waiter seated us in a private alcove at the back of the banquet hall just as a host announced the line
up of cultural dances. I hadn’t realized that there were so many different ethnicities in southern Yunnan. Although fascinated, I didn’t have the energy for such an affair. I had no choice but to rally for Ling-Ru’s sake, or face the onslaught of masseuses back at the hotel room.

  As a waiter stood over us, I read the menu items and almost jumped out of my chair:

  Snake wine.

  Shark fin soup.

  Bird’s nest soup.

  Braised pangolin.

  Roasted tiger penis.

  Oil-fried fresh monkey brain.

  Grilled elephant trunk.

  Ling-Ru squeezed my leg under the table. “This is their special menu.”

  I glared at Ling-Ru and whispered, “Are you crazy?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, letting me know that she had good reason to bring us to this place. Still confused, I smiled at the waiter and put the menu down. I ordered a bottle of water. There was absolutely no way I was going to order any of the items on the menu, no matter what Ling-Ru might have been planning.

  “Baijiun and two glasses,” Ling-Ru ordered. “Oh, and could you also give us your appetizer menu?”

  The waiter nodded and headed off to get our drink orders.

  As I watched him hurry off, I eyed Ling-Ru cautiously. “Ling-Ru, why are we here—really?”

  “I’m looking for someone.”

  There was no one in the vicinity who appeared to be looking at us. “Who?”

  “Someone who might be able to tell us about the group that’s scheduled to transport the shipment tomorrow.”

  “You failed to mention that.”

  Ling-Ru seemed evasive. “I wasn’t sure he’d be here.”

  I picked up the menu. “What’s with the menu?”

  “It was the only way I could get us into these back rooms.”

  “This is where you’ll find your informer?”

  “Yes,” she said vacantly. “He wouldn’t approach me if we were in the main hall.”

  I was given an appetizer menu, and Ling-Ru glanced over it and suggested the fried banana flower. Since it was the only thing on the menu that wasn’t an endangered species, I ordered it.