“None,” Ryker said. “But you might have information that could save your friend’s life. We believe that as of right now, James Lin is in great danger, and that whoever killed his sons is now coming for him.”
Ren listened to Chee Wei’s translation. He puffed on his cigarette for a long moment as he thought this over. He then nodded to the Chinese man standing next to Nyby by the door. The two men left, closing the door behind them almost soundlessly. Ren looked at Ryker directly.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why were you meeting with Lin’s eldest son in Shanghai?”
“I’m here on business. Lin Jong was the president of the business unit my organization deals with in Shanghai. This was an official business-to-business visit. Lin Jong was acting as his father’s intermediary, and was kind enough to arrange for the appropriate visas and such. And as he is the son of my oldest friend, it was my duty to ensure he was well taken care of during his time in Shanghai.”
“Taken care of how, exactly?”
“Dinners. Entertainment. Not whores or drugs, like you think. That’s not my job.”
“Who was Lin Jong involved with in China?”
“I would have no idea.”
“The son of your oldest friend? The man you sponsored back into the Communist Party after Mao died? The man who oversaw the purges in Shanghai? And you have no idea who a man as important to you as Lin Jong was involved with?”
Ren glared at Ryker for a moment, then stubbed out his cigarette. He folded his hands across his belly and leaned back in the rich, leather chair he sat in. He looked up at the wood-paneled ceiling for a moment.
“I see you’re very well informed,” he said after a time. “How did you get such information?”
“From China, of course. But I’m not at liberty to discuss the workings of nation-to-nation cooperation.”
Ren snorted again and looked at Chee Wei. He said something that Chee Wei didn’t translate right away, and whatever it was, it pissed off the younger detective. He stared at Ren angrily.
“Hey, what did he say?” Ryker asked.
“He said that if anyone in my family passed that information off to us, that person was now dead,” Chee Wei said. His voice was hard, stony, and he kept his gaze locked with Ren’s. “This guy’s a fucking maggot.”
“Tell him he’s a fool. Tell him the Shanghai police are working with us directly, that they need to save face by solving Lin Jong’s murder. Then tell him to answer my last question: Who was Lin Jong boffing in China?”
Chee Wei fired away in strident, rapid-fire Mandarin. Ren Yun reached for another cigarette and lit it with his cheap lighter. He exhaled smoke, and it refracted the light coming in from the window behind him, adding a cathedral-like effect to the room.
“I have no idea who Lin Jong was seeing in Shanghai. He was a handsome young man. I have no doubt he did not lack for companionship. But he was discreet, very much unlike his younger brother. Lin Jong was brought up in a different time than Lin Dan. Excesses were not easily obtained, and if they were, they were never overlooked. Punishment was a constant in China in those days—not like today, where every red prince has a harem of women following him around all day, every day. Lin Jong was mindful of his place in our society, and equally mindful of his father’s station. And mine. He would not compromise us with an open dalliance. But I do not mean to say he had no one. I simply mean to say I do not know who that person, or persons, might be.”
“Who from your entourage met with him?”
“Which entourage? I have staff in China, and here with me.”
“Those here in the United States.”
“Myself. My secretary. My chief of staff. My travel affairs assistant.”
“May we have their names?”
Ren Yun rattled off the names, and Chee Wei wrote them down on his pad. He handed the list over to Ryker. He read it without any sign of emotion, then handed the pad back to Chee Wei. One of the names suddenly tickled his memory.
“This person named Shi. It’s a woman, right? Does she go by the name Maggie in the West?”
“She is my travel affairs assistant. Also my primary English translator when I travel abroad. And yes, she uses a Western name when traveling.”
“She met Lin Jong?”
“Of course.”
“What of Lin Dan?”
“I do not know. I very much doubt it. You can’t tell me you suspect her? Her record is impeccable.”
Ryker ignored Ren’s protest. “Did she arrive with you?”
“No. She arrived much earlier, to prepare things in advance of my arrival. She…” Ren stopped suddenly, a confused expression crossing his frog-like features. He puffed on his cigarette, a bid to buy time. Ryker felt a flash of anticipation surge through his gut. He was on the right track, and he knew it, knew it deep down. He leaned forward in his chair.
“Continue, Mister Ren. Tell me about Shi’s arrival date.”
Ren puffed on the cigarette furiously and stabbed it out in the ashtray. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Ryker with an expression of disgust.
“It’s coincidence only,” he said.
“Explain that, Mister Ren.”
“She left for the United States the night Lin Jong was believed to have been murdered…or at least, that’s what the Shanghai police think. But it’s coincidence. Complete coincidence.”
“I met this woman last night, Mister Ren. Now that I look back upon it, I very much think she is someone we would be very interested in speaking with. Where is she?”
Ren reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I will call her.”
“That would be wonderful, but don’t mention the police.”
Ren nodded. “I understand.” He hit a speed dial combination and put the phone to his ear. He listened for a moment, then shook his head at Ryker as he spoke. He didn’t talk for long and disconnected quickly.
“Voice mail,” Chee Wei said.
“Where might she be, Mr. Ren?” Ryker asked.
“I dismissed her last night. I won’t require her services again until next week, when I meet with a committee representing the San Francisco Bay.”
“Do you know where she’s staying?”
“Of course. At the Grand Hyatt in San Francisco. Room seven one three. Do you want me to call the room?” Ren raised his cell phone.
“No. We’ll attend to that. Mister Ren, it’s very important that you search your memory and try to remember if there was any interchange between this Shi woman and Lin’s son in Shanghai. Did anything unusual happen? Anything at all. Amorous, contentious, whatever.”
Ren listened to Chee Wei’s translation and thought about it for some time. Finally, he shook his head. “The only thing that I can tell you is that she seemed unimpressed,” he said slowly. “I did not pay much attention to her during our meetings with Lin Jong. You understand? She works for me. So long as she does her job, I don’t care about anything else. But the other women in the area all seemed impressed with Lin Jong. He was a handsome man, as I said before. But Shi Meihua…maybe not so much. She’s met many men who are just as handsome, and some who are more powerful. And Lin Jong did not seem to notice her either way.”
“Mr. Ren…where did Miss Shi grow up?”
Ren looked puzzled by the question, and he took his time in answering. “I believe she is from Hong Kong, or immigrated there.”
“Are you sure she’s not from Shanghai?”
“She knows Shanghai as well as many people who work for me but who do not live there, Detective Ryker.”
“Is there any chance her family might have been from Shanghai?”
Ren looked at Ryker directly now, but he listened to Chee Wei’s question intently. He took some time to answer, searching his memory for the information Ryker requested. At last, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know the answer to that question. Why is this important?”
“James Lin oversaw the purges in S
hanghai. More than a few innocent civilians were sent to hell by that man. There are more than a few reasons to hate him.”
Ren said nothing.
“Can you call your office to find out if someone can get that information on Miss Shi? Regarding her parentage, where she was born, so on?”
“Of course. I’ll do it immediately.”
“Last question. Where’s Lin?”
“He left early this morning, with his guard Manning. Where they went, I do not know.”
“Left with Manning, huh?” Ryker thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “Has Lin spoken to you about the deaths of his sons?”
“Of course.”
“And?”
Ren reached for his pack of cigarettes but didn’t shake a smoke from the pack. Yet. “He is upset. His sons were all he had. His wife died years ago. He is a lonely man, now made even lonelier by an assassin who won’t attack him directly.”
“Mister Ren…did Lin ever tell you anything about the circumstances of his son’s death?”
“I know everything about Lin Jong’s…demise. Lin Yubo informed me Lin Dan met with an identical fate. The mutilation. The desecration.” Ren stirred uncomfortably, and Ryker found his discomfiture hypocritical at best. From what he had seen, Ren had participated in the deaths and displacements of thousands, perhaps millions. And here he sat, uneasy discussing the particulars of two deaths he hadn’t even partaken in.
They’re all the same…this son of a bitch, the Lins…I shouldn’t be trying to stop this woman from murdering them, I should be sending her flowers. He had to struggle with himself to keep from shouting epithets at the small, pot-bellied Chinese man sitting before him, and sudden anger surprised him.
“What else do you know about the murders?” Ryker asked instead.
“Nothing.”
Ryker nodded and checked his watch. Mid-afternoon was afoot, and he wanted to get to the downtown hotel in San Francisco and start tracking Meihua Shi. He wasn’t convinced she was the best candidate for the murder of Danny Lin, but she was the only lead they had. He rose to his feet.
“Thanks for your time. If you could check with your people in Shanghai about Shi’s background, that might be very helpful. Please contact Detective Fong with the information, whenever it arrives. Chee Wei, give the man your card.”
Chee Wei repeated what Ryker had said, and then handed Ren his card as instructed. His face was a blank mask, and Ren accepted the card with a similar expression. Chee Wei pointed out the telephone number, and turned to Ryker.
“You want to tell him anything else?”
Ryker considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Tell this cock-sucking, dog-fucking, inbred son of a whore I don’t have more to say to him.”
Ren’s eyes widened slightly, and Ryker laughed. Some words truly had international meaning.
###
On the way back to San Francisco, Ryker called in a phone warrant giving him the ability to search the hotel room registered to Maggie Shi. He then called Morales, still on babysitting duty with the Zhu woman and gave him a quick brief. Morales wanted to meet them at the hotel, but Ryker told him to stay put. He didn’t know where Baluyevsky was, and until he got a handle on that, he didn’t want Xiaohui Zhu left unguarded.
“Man, this isn’t exactly easy duty over here,” Morales said. “This woman’s a hundred percent bat-shit crazy.”
“That’s a high-maintenance woman for you,” Ryker said, and then disconnected.
Chee Wei drove as fast as before, but wasn’t quite as reckless about it. He signaled his lane changes, and didn’t hit the brakes like he was trying to stop a speeding airliner on a short runway. He kept his eyes rooted on the freeway before them, and his chin was set.
“What’s wrong?”
Chee Wei didn’t look over at him. “That motherfucker threatened my family.”
“Ah. Yeah, he did. You should give your cousin a call, and let him know. I don’t think Ren is the kind of guy to make an empty threat, you know?”
“It’s four in the morning in Hong Kong. He won’t even answer the phone.”
“So leave a message?”
Chee Wei nodded, checked his mirrors, and merged into another lane. “You think this woman killed Danny Lin?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“Are we going to arrest her, or shake her hand?”
“What the hell do you think?” Ryker’s cell phone buzzed, and he checked the display. It was Spider. “This is Ryker.”
“What’s shaking, Hal? I just got a pulse from the DA’s office. You phoned in a warrant?”
“We have a lead. Not sure how hot it is, but it measures up with some new intel Fong picked up.” Ryker gave Furino the short version, elaborating only when Furino asked. It didn’t take long, and the more he talked about it, the slimmer it felt.
But at the same time, it felt right.
Spider didn’t comment right away when Ryker finished, and for a moment, he thought he’d lost the connection as the Lexus sped down the freeway toward the Golden Gate Bridge. “Spider, you there?”
“I’m here. That sounds a little thin, Hal.”
“I’m following up a lead, not bringing in a collar and typing up the arrest report for the DA to use at trial.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But Jericho’s going to be hearing about this, he’s got the DA’s office spooled up to contact him if there’s any official actions required on the Lin case. That’s how I got the call myself. The only difference is that Jericho’s probably on the golf course, while I’m sitting at home watching my ten-year-old clear a room full of zombies on his Xbox.”
“So what do you want?”
“I want you to loop me in if something develops. And track your time, both you and Fong qualify for OT compensation.”
“Oh, you got that.”
Ryker disconnected and looked over at Chee Wei. The younger detective’s face was almost expressionless, as if carved from stone. Ryker didn’t have anything further to say to him, so he just tightened his seat belt and leaned back in the seat.
CHAPTER 25
The office building was well secured, seemingly surrounded by dozens of video cameras. She knew the doors would be locked, as it was the weekend and there was only a skeleton workforce on the premises, at the very best. This was simultaneously to her advantage and a sort of drawback. If there had been more foot traffic entering and exiting the building, she might have had the opportunity to slink inside and take her chances that way. But that was not an option; to try such an approach in the late afternoon hours would have been carelessly brazen, not to mention a complete failure. While she had no doubt the building’s security team was less than effective—how often had they truly been tested?—she was certain that even on a Saturday afternoon, their numbers were substantial enough to delay her. And more importantly, one of them might be able to summon the police before she could effectively deal with them.
Another impediment to trying to slip in through the ground floor was that, after all these years of waiting, of practicing, of training…she found the blood lust she needed to complete her mission was fading. There had been enough death in her past already, enough to fill a dozen lifetimes with unending remorse and grief. The security guards in the lobby of 101 California were only trying to earn a living, and were not guarding Lin himself, per se. Killing them might give her a few minutes of advantage, but that advantage would be tenuous, at best. She’d had the opportunity to slip into Lin’s mansion the night before, but she’d squandered it, wasted the chance on killing his primary guard dog, just to send a message, to increase his terror a thousandfold, to ensure he knew his life was near its end. She cursed herself now for her stupidity, for prolonging the inevitable. Time had been wasted, and opportunity had been frittered away like rice thrown at a Western-style wedding, despite the fact that millions went hungry on a daily basis.
Bu zhan, bu he. She repeated the hated axiom to herself, ove
r and over, like a mantra. It took some time, minutes even, but soon her breast filled with the anger, the hatred, the components that allowed her to disassociate herself from the horrible events that lay in the near future. Bu zhan. bu he. Bu zhan, bu he. Bu zhan, bu he.
No war, no peace. Without going to war with oneself, there was no chance for peace.
She embraced it fully now, as she had never allowed herself to do before. It was an interesting moment, drawing power from her enemy’s most hateful slogan, a slogan that had been the epitaph for thousands. Friends. Family. Her mother, her father. Her brother, so small, so defenseless.
If she’d had much humanity left, she might have shed another tear for their absence. But the part of her that felt pain at the touch of grief had perished long ago, and now the despair only served as fuel. As motivation.
She pulled her old Corolla into the driveway that led to the parking garage. She pulled the magnetic card she had taken from Baluyevsky’s body last night before fading into the night, and swiped it across the card reader before the sealed garage doors. Automatically, one of them opened, rolling upward into its ceiling recess. She pulled her car into the garage and drove around, looking for the black GTO. The garage was mostly deserted, and she had no trouble finding it. She parked a few spaces from it, then exited her car, carrying a black, nylon duffel bag over one shoulder. The bag’s color matched her clothes, baggy garments the color of midnight, loose enough to allow for freedom of movement. She walked toward the car and pulled a lock pick from one pocket.
In just a few moments, she had the trunk open. She removed the recording device she had planted in the vehicle the night before while Manning slept, sated. The memory of the early part of the night rose in her mind unbidden, and she remembered the rapture she had felt while riding him. It had been years since she had allowed herself to run so freely, to take pleasure, and in a rare moment, return it as well. She wished she had allowed herself to lie beside him throughout the night and take him again the following morning, but that was not to be. Never to be.
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