roused him from his reverie. “Yes?”
“Ms. Sun is in the living room, sir.”
“Thank you, Lawrence. Give her a drink. Tell her I’ll be along.”
He remained mulling for another few minutes and then roused himself. Sun Liuxia was the daughter of an important official he could not afford to offend. She was also stunning and young.
Smiling, he freshened up, changed his dinner jacket, and left the bedroom. It was still early. Through the penthouse windows, the lights of Hong Kong spread before him as if all the world were his. By the time he entered the living room, his good humor had fully returned.
Shanghai Still seated in Yu Yongfu’s exotic armchair in the Flying Dragon offices, Zhao Yanji sighed. Miserable and discouraged, he stared down at the empty pistol in his lap. Perhaps the American actually could help.
Maybe the answer was to leave Shanghai at last. Or he could always retrieve the clip, put the pistol to his head, and pull the trigger.
He studied the weapon thoughtfully, stroking it with a finger. He imagined the bullet shooting from the chamber, exploding like lightning from the barrel, and blasting through his skull and the soft tissue of his brain. He did not shudder as he contemplated this. In fact, he had a moment of peace. At last, his battle would be over, and he would no longer feel the terrible burden of the company’s dishonor.
He looked around Yu Yongfu’s office, so familiar. As treasurer, he had spent a lifetime here, it seemed, trying to educate the selfish entrepreneur and rescue the company from him. He took a deep breath and found himself shaking his head. A surge of resentment, almost of determination, rushed through him. No, he was not ready to die. He still wanted to fight. The company could still be saved.
He should get out of here before he was discovered. He pushed himself up to his feet, feeling relieved. To make a decision was to reaffirm the future.
There was a small sound. No more than a sharp click.
Puzzled, he turned. The office door was open. A figure stood silhouetted against the outer office’s light. Before Zhao could speak, there was a loud pop. As his sight went blank, he realized what it was — a silenced gunshot. Abruptly, pain burst from his heart. It was so overwhelming he did not feel himself topple face first to the carpet.
Chapter Seven
In their mansion on the outskirts of Shanghai, Yu Yongfu and his family had an important guest. His arrival had surprised them. He was a fat old man with many chins, who sat behind Yu’s massive desk as if he owned it.
Yu said nothing, trying to forget the aggravations of having such a meddling father-in-law. At least the Empress’s manifest was safely locked away now, and all that remained to be handled was the American spy. He must have faith that Feng would eliminate him.
With pride, he watched the old man beam at the small boy who stood shyly to his side. He turned to study the boy, who wore Western-style pajamas with the face of Batman emblazoned on his thin chest. He was small for his age and smelled of Western peanut butter.
The old man — Li Aorong — patted him indulgently on the head. “You are how old now, Peiheng?”
“Seven, honored Grandfather.” With a glance at his mother, he continued, “I will be in a month anyway.” He added proudly, “I’m in the American school.”
Li laughed. “You like being in school with the children of Westerners?” “Father says it’ll make me important in the world.”
Li glanced at his son-in-law, Yu Yongfu, who sat rigid in one of his suede armchairs. Still, despite his obvious tension, Yu was smiling at his son.
Li said, “Your father is an intelligent man, Peiheng.”
From where she stood near the door of the study, Li Kuonyi interrupted, “You have a granddaughter, too, Father.”
“So I do, daughter. So I do. And a most beautiful little one.” Li smiled again. “Come, child. Stand with your brother. Tell me, are you, too, in American school?”
“Yes, Grandfather. I’m two grades higher than Peiheng.”
Li feigned astonishment. “Only one year older, and two grades ahead? You take after your mother. She was always smarter than my sons.”
Yu Yongfu spoke sharply, “Peiheng learns his numbers quickly.”
“Another businessman.” Li chuckled with pleasure. He stroked the faces of both children as if touching rare and delicate vases. “They will go far in the new world. But it’s past their bedtime, eh?” He nodded gravely to Yu and his daughter. “It was kind of you to allow them to remain awake.”
“You don’t visit us often enough, Father,” Kuonyi told him, an edge to her voice.
“The affairs of Shanghai keep an old man busy.”
“But you are here tonight,” Kuonyi challenged. “At such a late hour.”
The father and daughter stared. Kuonyi’s gaze was as hard and bold as that of her powerful father, demanding an explanation.
He said, “The children must be in bed, Daughter.”
Kuonyi took their hands and turned toward the door. “My husband and I will return.”
“Yongfu will stay. He and I will speak together,” he said. Now the edge was in his voice. “Alone.”
Kuonyi hesitated. She straightened her back and took the children away.
Above the mantle in Yu’s Western-style office, the Victorian clock ticked quietly. The two men sat for some minutes in silence. The older man stared at his son-in-law until Yu Yongfu said politely, “It’s been too long since your last visit, honored father-in-law. All of us have missed your wise counsel.” Li said, “A man’s first responsibility must be to his family. Is that not so, son-in-law?”
“As has long been written.”
Li fell silent again.
Yu waited. The old man had something on his mind, perhaps an important position for Yu that might be seen as favoring his own family too much.
He needed to be sure Yu was equal to the task. Yu wanted good news tonight. His problems with the Empress were draining him.
At last, Yu echoed, “A man must never bring disrepute to his family.”
“Disrepute?” The older man lifted his head and repeated the word in a tone almost of wonder. “You have a wife and two children.”
“I’ve been blessed, and they are my soul.” Yu smiled.
“I have a daughter and two grandchildren.”
Yu blinked. What had happened? What was he supposed to say to that? His mouth turned dry as the deserts of Xinjiang, because something had changed in the room. Fear riveted him. He was no longer looking into the eyes of the indulgent grandfather of his son and daughter. Instead, this was the flinty, unrelenting gaze of an official of the Shanghai Special Administrative Zone, a politician who was owned by the immensely powerful Wei Gaofan.
“You’ve made an irredeemable mistake,” Li told him in an emotionless voice. His large, fat-encrusted face was as still as a waiting snake’s.
“The theft of the true manifest to The Dowager Empress puts us in grave jeopardy. All of us.”
Yu felt himself dissolve in fear. “A mistake that’s been corrected. No harm has resulted. The manifest is locked in my safe upstairs. There is no?”
“The Americans know what the Empress carries. An American spy is sniffing around Shanghai because of it. He cannot be disposed of without many questions being asked. You have imperiled me, and — worse — you have imperiled Wei Gaofan. What was secret is no longer secret, and what is no longer secret can come to the ears of Wei Gaofan’s enemies on the Central Committee, the Politburo, even on the Standing Committee itself.”
“Feng will dispose of this American!”
