'We have a car,' Ventura said. He nodded toward one of the special
rental units.
Ventura had told Morrison about this before. Inside the car. Smith
couldn't eavesdrop on the conversation.
'Of course,' Wu said.
'Somewhere shady my driver can park and wait?'
'Over there under the trees by the garage would be good.'
Wu leaned back into the car and reeled off a fast bit of singsong
Chinese.
The driver responded in the same language.
Ventura said, 'Sure, there's a toilet in the garage.'
Wu turned back, one eyebrow raised.
'Ah. You speak Mandarin?'
'Not really. A few words I picked up in a restaurant ordering
dinner.'
Wu flashed a careful smile, turned back to the driver, and spoke again,
and it sounded different to Morrison, though it still seemed to be
Chinese.
Again the driver responded.
'That's okay,' Ventura said, 'as long as he doesn't wander far from the
car, he can smoke and stretch his legs. I'll have one of my people
keep an eye on him to make sure nobody bothers him.'
'I see you have a few words of Cantonese, too. You must really enjoy
Chinese food. Though wouldn't it have been a better tactic to pretend
ignorance? Perhaps learn something useful?'
Ventura shrugged.
'You weren't going to say anything useful anyway, were you, Mr. Wu?'
'Call me 'Chilly,' Luther. It's always nice to be working with
professionals. Makes things so much cleaner, don't you think?'
Still wearing his old birdwatcher costume, Walker drove, Ventura rode
shotgun, and Wu and Morrison sat in the backseat of the full-sized
Dodge Intrepid. Walker wore headphones plugged into a DVD player with
loud music blaring from the phones into his ears, making him
effectively deaf. The phones were a precaution. Even though Ventura
had worked with him long enough to know Walker could keep his mouth
shut, what you didn't know, you couldn't be forced to say.
Ventura had taken his pistol from its holster and laid it on the seat
where the men in back couldn't see it. He kept his hand on the weapon.
Wu didn't look it on the surface, but he was a dangerous man--Ventura
had been around enough of them to know one when he saw one. Something
in the eyes, something in the body language. Wu played it down--the
silk suit and expensive shoes--and he wasn't carrying a gun big enough
to show, but underestimating an opponent was always a mistake. With
Wu, it could be fatal in a hurry. It was still early in the
negotiations, and probably there wasn't any real threat yet, but
'probably' wasn't something you risked your neck on.
'So, what exactly are we looking at buying. Dr. Morrison?
Would it be too forward if I call you Patrick?'
Wu was showing off a little, dropping names just to let them know he'd
done his homework and that he knew who he was dealing with. They would
