“What comes to the ears of the Politburo will be investigated. You’ll be investigated.”
Yu Yongfu was desperate. “They’ll learn nothing?”
“They’ll learn everything. It isn’t in you to resist, son-in-law.” Li’s tone softened. “It’s sad, but it’s true. You’ll reveal everything, and if you live, you’ll be ruined. Which means the ruin of all of us. All of the Yu’s. All of the Li’s.”
“No!” Yu Yongfu shuddered. His stomach was a fist. He could hardly breathe. “I’ll go away. Yes, I’ll leave … ”
Li dismissed him with a wave. “The matter is decided.”
“But?”
“The only question now is how it is to be done. That is your choice.
Will it be prison, disgrace, and ruin for our family? Many questions asked and answered, and the loss of the favor of Wei Gaofan for all of us? Without the great Wei, I will go down. Your wife — my daughter — will fall with me, and there will be no future for my other children and their families either. Most crucial to you, there will be no future for your children.”
Yu trembled. “But?”
“But you are right, none of that need happen. The honorable way will save all of us. The responsibility will end with you. Without you to speak, and no question as to the manner of your death, nothing can lead to Wei Gaofan or myself. My position remains secure, because we will retain Wei’s favor. Your wife and children will still have an unlimited future.”
Yu Yongfu opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Fear paralyzed him as he saw his suicide.
Far to the west of downtown Shanghai, beyond the ring road expressway, Andy cut his engine and allowed his Jetta to glide to a stop on a tree-lined suburban street. There were no streetlights. The houses were mostly dark this late hour. Nothing moved in the blue-steel moonlight.
In the passenger seat, Smith checked his watch. It was after nine o’clock. Before he had rendezvoused with Andy, he left a message on Dr. Liang’s answering machine that he was indisposed and unable to join him and his colleagues for dinner. He hoped that would cover his activities tonight.
Now he had something far more crucial to worry about. He listened intently. He heard nothing except the faint noise of traffic back on the ring. Something was wrong about this street of affluent homes. He gazed around, trying to understand … then he saw what it was, and inwardly laughed at himself. He had lived in the Eastern Seaboard corridor so long he had become culture bound. The answer was, no cars were parked at the curbs.
“That’s the address over there.” Andy pointed across the street. “Yu Yongfu’s mansion.”
Smith saw no numbers. “How the hell do you know?”
Andy grinned. “In Shanghai, you just know.”
Smith grunted. There was a high, solid wall right on the edge of the dark street, occupying the entire block. Through the barred metal gate, he could make out an impressive compound in the courtyard style of the long-ago estates of rich landowners. Deep inside, the mansion was barely visible. Unlike anything he had seen in this Asian metropolis, Yu’s estate seemed to come straight from the last imperial dynasty.
Smith grabbed his night-vision binoculars and focused on the distant manse and had a shock. It looked American, as if it had been built around 1900. It was big, rambling, and airy. So far, the perimeter wall was the only trace of old China.
He handed the binoculars to Andy, who was as surprised as Smith. “It’s like one of those big houses the opium taipans had back in the eighteen hundreds. You know, in the British, American, and French Concessions?
Those were the dudes who ran the trading companies, built the Bund, and made millions swapping Indian opium for Chinese tea and silk.”
“That’s the impression Yu probably intended,” Smith guessed. “Judging from what I saw at his office, and what you’ve told me, the man thinks of himself as a modern taipan.” Smith continued to study the silent estate. There was no light in the house, no movement, and no sign of security guards on the grounds. That also surprised him. While the Communist government would certainly not permit elaborate private electronic security that could keep their police out, manpower here was both cheap and plentiful.
“Okay, Andy, I’m going in. Give me two hours. If I’m not back, get out of here. Better give me my suit in case we get separated.”
Andy handed him the suit in a tightly rolled bundle tied by his belt.
“What if someone comes before two hours?”
“Leave fast. Try not to let them see you. Hide the car then slip back on foot and hunker down out of sight. But don’t wait longer than the two hours. If I’m not back by then, I’m probably not coming back. Notify your contact and tell him about Flying Dragon and Yu Yongfu.”
“Jesus, don’t scare me any more than I am. Anyway, my contact’s not a him. She’s a her.”
“Then tell her.”
Andy An swallowed and nodded. Smith climbed out of the car and pulled on his backpack. Inside were his tools. In his black work clothes, he trotted through the darkness toward the compound as traffic hummed far away, reminding him again how quiet this neighborhood was.
At a corner of the wall far from the Yu mansion, a tree with thick branches hung over the side. The municipal government would not trim or cut down trees for the safety of a private tycoon, anymore than they would permit electronic security. Smith grabbed the branch and pulled himself up the wall. At the top, he paused. Blooming jasmine perfumed the air. He had a sense he was on the edge of a forest, so dense were the trees and underbrush. He dropped over into dry leaves. They crunched under his feet. Crouching, he waited motionless, hoping no one had heard him.
There was still no sign of security. It made him uneasy. A man of the ambition and ostentation of Yu would have some sort of protection. Most likely, a phalanx of personal guards.
He trotted toward the house and soon came out of the trees into a garden that brought him up as short as the house and the forest had. It was an elaborate, nineteenth-century English garden with narrow paths winding among rosebushes and immaculate flower beds, elaborate topiary, quaint benches, a gazebo, and even a lawn for croquet and bowling. There was the scent of freshly cut grass. He could imagine a homesick British tea tycoon finding solace here.
The garden gave less cover in the ghostly moonlight, but the grotesque shadows cast by the topiary would serve well enough. Moving swiftly, he was soon inside a stand of trees near the house. He circled, discovered a six-car garage at the side that contained only two cars — a large, black Mercedes sedan and a silver Jaguar XJR. He could see no light in the house or an open window.
He worked his way around to the front again. The ornately carved entrance door was mostly in shadow. The brass knocker was oversized and silvered by the moonlight. He studied the door. It was not set back inside a recess, so the moonlight shined directly on it. Moonlight distorted perspective, and depth perception became difficult. The door should not be shadowed at all. Where did the shadow that seemed to cover a quarter of the door come from?
The answer was, there was no shadow. The door was a quarter open, and what appeared to be a shadow was the house’s dark interior.
A trap? People had been watching and following him, but he had taken a multitude of precautions driving here. To all appearances, the estate was deserted. Still, there was the possibility he had missed something or someone.
He drew his Beretta, circled left, and worked his way back to the front door. He listened once more.
Everything was still, silent. Beretta in both hands, he inched the door farther open with the toe of his athletic shoe. The door was well oiled and swung soundlessly. Where were the servants who should be tending this post? He let the door open fully. A broad foyer of polished wood, floor to ceiling, came into view, illuminated by a wash of pewter-colored moonlight through the door and windows. An elegant, winding staircase led up at the rear.
He stepped inside, his soft-soled shoes making little sound. He paused to peer into the room to his left. It was a Victorian-style dining room, but everything in it was Chinese, from the carved-wood dinner table to the screens that hid various corners.
He padded to the right. Another open archway showed a living room twice the size of the dining room. It
