“I’ll talk to Freddie,” said Yan definitively. “And he’ll talk to you. Beyond that, I can’t make any promises.”
Cape stood. “Mister Yan, I’ve taken enough of your time.”
Yan extended his hand. “Good luck.”
They shook hands. “Thanks,” said Cape. He started to turn, but Yan held his hand a moment longer than expected.
“You know, Mister Weathers,” he said, turning to look out his window, “your answers might not be in Chinatown.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know what was onboard that ship?” asked Yan. “Or what those people were doing in China?”
“No,” said Cape. “I don’t.” He thought about telling Yan he’d already asked that question of someone else, but for some reason didn’t. “Do you?”
Yan shook his head. “I just thought it might be relevant.”
Cape nodded. “Thanks again. If you think of anything else…” he handed Yan his card.
“There is one more thing,” replied Yan, reaching behind him. He extended his right hand and pressed something into Cape’s palm. “Wear this in November, if you don’t mind.”
Cape looked down to see a round button emblazoned with
Cape turned and walked down the hall, passing through Yan’s gallery of photos. Waving to the pretty receptionist, he let himself out and took the stairs down to the street. The air was crisp, a hint of fog in the chill wind coursing down the street.
He stood for a moment on the curb, reflecting on the meeting. It was still early and the street was crowded, pedestrians of all ages moving around him like water. Yan was a politician and a lawyer, which normally meant two strikes against him, but there was something disarming about the man. Cape reminded himself that he didn’t really know Yan, but he suspected that he’d like him if he did. And if nothing else, he’d given Cape a reason to move forward.
Cape moved to cross Grant and was knocked sideways by a young Asian boy with orange hair carrying a large backpack. The boy muttered something under his breath as he brushed past, stepping up onto the curb without looking back. Cape started to say something but caught himself, watching as the boy rounded the corner. Looking both ways before resuming his walk, he crossed the street and turned right toward Broadway.
He walked two blocks before reaching into his right jacket pocket to fish out his cell phone. He wanted to call Linda and see if she’d found any background on the ship. His fingers brushed against something that wasn’t his phone, something with a hard, thin edge to it.
Cape pulled a card out of his pocket, a rectangular piece of cardboard about an eighth of an inch thick. Written across the top were the words
Cape turned the card over in his hands. On the back was a triangle, the three sides carved into the card with blood-red clarity. Below the triangle were three Chinese characters that meant nothing to him.
Cape thought of the boy with the orange hair and looked again at the card. He wondered if he’d been followed on his way over here or maybe the entire day.
Either way, he didn’t like looking over his shoulder.
Chapter Twenty
“Nuts?”
Lucy cranked up the wattage on her Tennessee smile as she proffered the small cup of mixed nuts, but the big Chinese fella wasn’t having any of it. He looked at her like she’d just shit on the tray table.
She didn’t think he spoke English, but it was pretty damn clear what she was saying. She was holding the nuts in her hand, after all.
Part of being a flight attendant was meeting all sorts of interesting people, but the flipside was dealing with folks who just couldn’t see the sun for the clouds. This boy’d clearly had a tough life, just from the look of him. That scar was as long and crooked as an interstate highway. Not even a mother could love that face.
But this was business class, and she wouldn’t become
She bent down to show some cleavage and gave it another Tennessee try.
“Nuts?”
“Yes,” came the reply, and Lucy almost yelped in surprise, his English crisp and clear, the voice so deep. Then the big man turned away and closed his eyes, never reaching for the small cup in her outstretched hand.
Lucy wondered if maybe he didn’t understand her after all, or if he thought she was asking him a personal question. That last thought gave her a little shiver.
Lucy walked back to the galley and checked her watch. They’d be landing in San Francisco pretty soon. She decided to keep to herself for the rest of the flight. Pulling out the folding seat next to the lavatory, she absently chewed on a Macadamia from the cup in her hand.
It was only the middle of the month, she told herself. Still plenty of time to win that trip. Better to conserve her energy so she could charm the shit out of the passengers on the way back to Hong Kong.
Chapter Twenty-one
Hong Kong, 11 years ago
