residence, where he hoped to locate Lu’s bribery records, Knox first wanted to visit Danner’s apartment. He knew the DNA was crucial. But he also knew Danner to be a thorough researcher. If he were minding Lu Hao for Rutherford and The Berthold Group, then he would have known all about Lu’s “consulting” work. So there was at least a small chance he’d have made a copy of Lu’s books, or created his own version, or perhaps even made notes about where Lu Hao kept his confidential documents. Likewise, if Danner had had any suspicions about Lu Hao’s clientele, he might have noted it in advance of their abduction. Knox would gladly follow any leads that Danner had left behind.
Pudong had arisen from shipyards and rice paddies twenty years earlier and was now the Wall Street of Shanghai. Inventive office buildings and gorgeous apartment towers lined the wide streets. The security guards in Danner’s river-view co-op were twenty-year-old boys in ill-fitting gray suits. Knox knew they wouldn’t mess with a waiguoren-a foreigner. Their job was to put a face on the compound and to keep out potential thieves and robbers.
Knox introduced himself as a friend of Mr. Danner’s and saw in their faces that they were aware of their resident’s absence.
“He asked me to get a few of his things and send them to him,” Knox said. Again, he monitored their response. What he detected surprised him. What were they expressing? It looked like fear-just below the surface. It took Knox a moment to make sense of it, but once he did his heart sank: someone had beaten him here. He had a fairly good idea who that might be.
“Entrance to Mr. Danner’s apartment is not possible,” said the most senior of the boys. “So very sorry. Must hear from Mr. Danner directly.”
Knox switched to Shanghainese, a local dialect few Westerners could command. Politely, he berated the man for his insolence.
The guard flushed.
“You will join me,” Knox said, still in Shanghainese. “Together we will take inventory. Anything I remove, I will sign for. No problem. Would you like to check with your manager?”
“I think this arrangement is good,” the guard said, chastened and relieved.
“I am glad you thought of such a workable solution,” Knox said. “I will make certain to let your manager know how promptly and efficiently you handled my request.”
He withdrew two hundred yuan from the vest on their way to the elevator, making sure the guard saw him do so, balling the money in his left hand.
Knox kept the brim of the Tigers cap toward the floor for the sake of the hallway cameras.
Danner’s contemporary Chinese luxury apartment was the perfect example of decorative contradiction: marble floors, faux-leather furniture, glass dining room table, all under the glow of low-voltage lighting-mixed together with red velvet curtains, polished brass “gold” plumbing fixtures and leaded crystal lighting sconces. Gaudy, pretentious and over-the-top.
Knox planted the man outside the door in the hallway, then, inside, conducted a thorough search of Danner’s desk, closets, drawers and bathroom. He searched for hair samples to provide Dulwich his DNA sample. Maid service had scoured the place; he failed to find a brush or comb offering hairs. He located an electric toothbrush, but doubted its sample strength. He was about to give up when he spotted a clear plastic razor dispenser holding new and used razor blade cartridges. He studied the used blades more carefully-all were caked with thick black lines beneath the blades: whiskers. He pocketed the dispenser. He would overnight it.
He continued the search for evidence of a kidnapping. Danner was far too careful and clever to leave anything important where it might be easily discovered, so Knox also searched for hidden panels and loose floor tiles. He accessed and unscrewed four air vents, peering inside. The closet safe was locked, but if he was right about the man who’d preceded him, its contents were now gone.
Five minutes dragged into ten. Fifteen. Knox took it to the next level, patting down and searching his missing friend’s clothing. An elliptical trainer faced a flat-panel TV, a neatly folded white towel draped over its handlebars. He checked in the slight inclined gap beneath it. Checked behind the flat panel. Checked the flat panel itself for a USB drive or memory card. Dug down into the soil of the potted plants. Searched the refrigerator and freezer. Pulled both away from the wall. Removed the stoppers from the sink and tub drains and looked for hidden wires or chains used to lower contents out of sight. Inspected the toilet tanks. Put his hand down the garbage disposal in the divided sink.
A framed bedside photograph of Peggy and a two-year-old boy won Knox’s attention, stopping him. He studied it, then removed it from the frame, but found nothing. For show, he gathered a pair of pajamas and placed them in his backpack along with two paperback books. He would show these to the security man.
He took photos with his iPhone and disassembled the apartment’s phone, looking for eavesdropping bugs. He collected a power supply from behind the desk, taking note of the absence of dust on the power strip where a grounded plug had been connected-Danner’s laptop. Also plugged into the strip was a lonely charger cord, its power supply marked “Garmin.” A GPS. He zipped it in his backpack as well.
He found the Garmin’s owner’s manual in a desk drawer, along with another for a Honda 220 motorcycle, and one for the elliptical trainer.
He called the security man inside and showed him the few items he was taking out of the apartment, but did not reveal the Garmin power cord. The man nodded, not asking for Knox to sign anything.
“The other man or men that came here,” Knox said calmly. “Chinese or waiguoren?”
“I did not say other man come here.”
“Same question.”
The man didn’t answer.
“It is up to you,” Knox said. “The issue of the computer being removed will have to be addressed, of course.”
“Waiguoren.”
“Tall. Hair shaved close. U.S. Consulate credentials.” It was the only person outside of a fellow Rutherford Risk employee whom Knox could imagine talking his way inside and leaving with something like Danner’s laptop computer.
Still, the man said nothing.
“Did he sign for it? Is there an inventory of what else was taken?”
“No one here. No one take anything. No need to sign.”
“I beg your indulgence,” Knox said, keeping it polite, “but I believe you may be mistaken. You see, Mr. Danner asked me to collect his laptop computer for him. And yet it’s not here. Do you see his laptop computer anywhere?”
The security man squirmed.
“If he did not sign for it, did you search the waiguoren?” He hardly paused. “No, I didn’t think so.”
The man’s lips pursed and his eyes darted about.
“I mean no disrespect. But you see, my job is complicated by the laptop not being here.”
“I said this man took nothing.” The man’s voice faltered.
“My mistake.”
Now in the elevator, Knox handed over the two hundred yuan. Again, he spoke Shanghainese. “The waiguoren asked you to contact him if someone like me made inquiries.”
The security man stood stoically.
“If you want to become further involved with the U.S. Consulate, then go ahead and make that call.” He offered two more hundred-yuan bills. “As for me, I do not wish to be bothered, cousin. My government can make life hard for me. Same as your Party can make life hard for you. Neh?”
The bills disappeared.
Knox fixed his gaze onto the man for the rest of the slow elevator ride. The man stared straight ahead at their reflections in the polished metal. Then the doors opened and Knox left the building, his baseball cap brim held low against the eyes of the cameras as he entered the darkening dusk of Shanghai.
4:50 P.M.
CHANGNING DISTRICT
SHANGHAI
