phone would have?”
That made him pause. “’Zactly. What, you’re like, Dancing with Spies?”
“It would be a spy?”
“Not necessarily. Actually, probably not a spy, they’d have their own tech. This, it’s just to be polite. Something our guys do for VIPs when someone asks them to, so when they make a date to go to, like, Stringfellows, it doesn’t end up on Page Six. But what I mean, they don’t just do it for anybody. If this dude that has this phone is from somewhere else, he’s probably pretty high up in whoever’s government we’re talking about. What’s going on?”
“I’m not telling you so you don’t have to deny anything.”
“Hey! Uncool! I—”
“Did you say you had something else?”
“Oh, man, I should hold out on you until you talk. Uh-oh, Trella’s giving me a look. Never mind, here’s the rest: the government. They’re, like, everywhere. Your Dennis Jerrold dude? That’s where he works. But not some foreign government. Our government. He’s with the State Department.”
12
Linus filled me in, I told him to keep digging, hung up, and turned to the guys. “Hoo boy.”
“What’s up?” Bill echoed himself from my last phone call.
“I wish I knew.” I told them what Linus had said about Samuel Wing’s phone, and then about Dennis Jerrold. “Chances are this won’t surprise you, but Linus says Jerrold’s on the China desk. Cultural affairs. Mid-level. Not a newbie, but not senior.”
Jack gave his drawn-out, “Re-eally?” Then he said, “But the PRC guy, Wing, he
“To have that phone protection. Seems that way.”
Jack looked at Bill. “You said if the PRC government wanted to stop Lydia, they’d have gone to the State Department. Well, here’s the State Department.”
“But not trying to stop me,” I objected. “Dunbar, or Jerrold or whoever he is, is the one who got all this started in the first place.”
Bill said, “Unless he’s freelancing, too.”
“You think there’s that much of that going around?”
“It makes sense. Otherwise why meet you in a tea shop and use a phony name? If the State Department wants to find the Chaus, they have all kinds of resources. Why go to a PI? But if Dunbar heard about the Chaus in the course of his work and is trying to get over without his bosses finding out, that makes the stakes pretty high if he gets caught. Even if he’s not committing a crime, it would be the end of his diplomatic career.” Bill turned to Jack. “I wonder if your client’s working for someone’s government, too.”
Quick swallow of soup. “You must have missed it. I don’t have a client.”
“What?”
“I got canned.”
“I thought you specifically
“Until Dr. Yang thought about it. He called about five-thirty and told me I specifically was canned.”
“Why?”
“He changed his mind.”
“About?”
“Me. No, I don’t believe it and no, I don’t know what’s going on.” Jack scooped up the last of his eight-treasure tofu.
“So why are you here?”
“Instead of back in my office, washing my hands of all this? You think, just for the chance of finding something to do that might turn out to be both safe and profitable—not to mention actually doable—I’d miss noodles this good?”
“You didn’t know how good they were when you came down here,” I pointed out.
“Hey, do I have to remind you which of us got shot at?” Jack crumpled his napkin into his empty bowl. “I have a stake in this and getting pink-slipped just fanned my flame.”
“I knew I liked you.” I signaled Tau for the check.
Jack grinned. “Almost worth getting shot at, to hear that.”
“Really?”
“No. Well, maybe once.”
Our grumpy waiter dropped a greasy scrap of paper onto the table. Bill picked it up and stood. He took out his phone and handed it to Jack. “Shayna’s photo of the Chaus is on there somewhere.”
“Say
“Only one. And it’s not very good. Anyway, there you go. Lydia found it.”
“Is that a dare? How fast?”
“Took her close to two minutes.”
