He watched as she walked down the hallway, then stepped out onto the patio. The bar was suddenly looking pretty good right now.
The Chinese bartenders were dressed in black vests and trousers, and smiled broadly as Manning approached. He ordered and received a bottle of Anchor Steam beer, a San Francisco area favorite and wandered around the vast patio. The huge grill beside the house was already fired up, apparently in an effort to supplement the busy kitchen, and flavorful smoke wafted through the air. Manning’s stomach grumbled, and he realized he was hungry. Thankfully, a caterer walked past at the moment with a tray of fresh shu mai in bamboo steamers, and he helped himself to a few. They were excellent, light and steamed to perfection. It was almost a shame to drink the beer after sampling such a fine delicacy, but he did it anyway. At the far edge of the courtyard was a series of arches which terminated at a pavilion that overlooked the Bay. It was currently deserted, so Manning headed for it and stood there for several minutes, taking in the view. There was a low glass-topped table flanked by four wrought-iron chairs in the middle of the open pavilion, but he ignored them and chose to stand. It was a clear night, and the lights of downtown San Francisco glittered in the growing night. It was most certainly a million dollar vista. Despite everything, he had to admit that Lin had no shortage of taste to go along with his fortune.
He was compelled to call Ryoko in Japan, despite her wishes. It would be nice to hear her voice, and to find out how she was getting along. She would still be sleeping, of course. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked at it. His thumb stroked the keys idly. Finally, he returned it to his pocket. She expected him to respect her wishes, and forcing himself on her was not likely to impress her.
Footfalls caught his attention, and he turned from the beauty spread out before him. Lin was leading Ren Yun and the woman Manning had briefly spoken with toward the pavilion. Manning turned to head off across the lawn, but he was surprised by Ren’s gravelly voice. He spoke in rough Mandarin.
“No need to leave because of us,” he barked. “We’re only here to take in the view for a moment!”
“Mr. Ren says there is no need to leave,” the woman said instantly as the trio entered the pavilion. “He and Mr. Lin are-”
“Manning knows what he said,” Lin said in Mandarin. “Don’t you, Manning?”
Manning nodded. Ren looked dubious.
“You speak Mandarin?” he demanded.
“I do.”
Ren grunted and stepped closer to Manning, looking up at him. He was bald with a round face and dark complexion, and his eyes seemed too large for his head. With his thick lips and short neck, he resembled a Chinese frog. He was somewhat sloppy in appearance; even though he wore a tuxedo, it seemed too big at the shoulders but pulled too tight around his round belly. Comparing him to Lin’s polished appearance, it was not hard for Manning to imagine he was Mr. Hyde to Lin’s Dr. Jekyll.
“Do you also speak Shanghainese?” Ren asked.
“I do not.”
Ren grunted again and looked over at Lin. “Americans learn Mandarin but not Shanghainese? Well, I guess we can’t ask too much of them, Lin Yubo.”
Lin smiled and put a hand on Manning’s arm. “Manning, meet my close friend and associate, Ren Yun. He and I have been through an eternity together, and I consider him to be my brother.” To Ren: “This is Jerome Manning. He works for me in Japan.”
“Japan?” Ren echoed. He cackled suddenly and turned to Lin. “Don’t tell me he works with Chen?” Without waiting for Lin to answer, he turned back to Manning. “So
Manning looked over at Lin, who gave him a resigned nod. “There is little about my business dealings that Ren Yun does not know.”
“I do not know why the
“A personal matter,” Lin replied.
Ren got the message and nodded. He looked back at Manning with a vague, sour smile.
“I wish you luck then, Manning.”
“Thank you, sir.” Manning glanced at Lin and had no difficulty reading his body language. He nodded to both men and smiled tightly. “I should be going-enjoy the view.”
“You may leave also. Lin Yubo and I have matters to discuss,” Ren said to his translator. He said this without looking at the elegant woman who stood slightly behind him. She inclined her head to his back, but both men had turned to regard the vista beyond with hooded eyes. Manning looked at her as he started down the flagstone walkway, but her expression was blank. Clearly, she was likely used to such casual dismissals. They were a part of life when working for the Chinese elite. When they were a short distance away, Manning glanced over his shoulder. Lin and Ren were dark silhouettes standing shoulder to shoulder.
“I would guess he’s always that brusque?” he asked her.
The woman looked at him for a moment, then at the courtyard they approached. “Mr. Ren has his way. I would imagine Mr. Lin does as well?”
Manning shrugged. “Can’t really say. I’m here for a short term assignment, so we don’t have a lot of casual interaction. Usually I get my instructions, and I’m on my way. I’m Jerry Manning, by the way.”
“Yes, I heard. I’m Maggie Shi.” She glanced at him again, but didn’t offer to shake hands. Manning let it go.
“Pleased to meet you. What’s your birth name?”
“My birth name?”
“Your Chinese name. I’d imagine Maggie isn’t your real name, right?”
She glanced at him again. “Most Americans wouldn’t ask that question,” she said. “They’d take what I gave them at face value.”
“I guess I’m not like most Americans.”
“Meihua,” she said after a moment.
“Beautiful Flower,” Manning said. “Or maybe, Beautiful Plum Blossom, depending on the interpretation.”
“Well done. You are certainly a scholar when it comes to names, Mr. Manning. Is this how you ingratiate yourself with Chinese ladies?”
She didn’t look at him when she said this, so he had no idea if she was joking. He glanced at her, but she rewarded him with only her profile.
“I spend most of my time in Japan, so there’s not a lot of opportunity to ingratiate any Chinese ladies, Ms. Shi.”
She stopped suddenly. Manning came to a halt and turned back to her. She looked at him speculatively, her features illuminated by the wan light sconces attached to the columns supporting the archway overhead.
“I did not mean to be rude,” she said suddenly. “If I sounded that way, I apologize. I don’t have much time for…for social interactions, I’m afraid.”
“It’s not a problem.” Manning offered his hand. “Let’s try again. I’m Jerome Manning.”
She smiled after a moment and accepted his hand. Her grasp was strong and warm.
“Shi Meihua,” she said. “You may call me Maggie, if you prefer.”
“Which do you prefer?”
Her smiled deepened after a moment, and she released his hand. “Shi Meihua would be interesting,” she said. “I never hear my name from foreigner’s lips.”
“An interesting way to phrase it, but very well-Shi Meihua it is.”
“Do you prefer Jerry or Jerome?” she asked.
“Either will do, and are preferable to
“Do you know what that means?” she asked incredulously. “Oh-of course you do. It’s so odd, hearing a foreigner say things like that!”
“I’m sure you’ve met your share of whites who speak Mandarin. It’s not a rarity these days.”
She nodded. “True-but very few of them try to use humor. Especially self-deprecating humor. The foreigners Ren Yun associates with are usually high-level businessmen looking to make inroads into China, or those who have to sustain the inroads they’ve already built.”
Manning nodded back the way they had come, where the two men were only vaguely visible. “He’s like Lin? A
