“Mr. Lin and his primary guests are sitting down to dinner, and the rest of the guests will begin their departures. You are no longer required. Mr. Lin wants you to go to the police station tomorrow and get another update from Ryker.”
“Very well.”
“Did you notice Sergeant Ryker left immediately after Lin Dan’s wife?” Baluyevsky asked. He strove for a conversational tone, but failed miserably.
“I noticed no such thing, nor is it at all relevant to what I’m here to do. Unless you feel Mrs. Lin is a potential method for Ryker to use to expose the murderer?”
“That is why I bring it up. Is she?”
“I don’t know, Alexsey. My job is to look after the law enforcement side. I’d thought that you and Lin had the family relations angle under control?”
“I leave nothing to chance. I do not think she is involved in her husband’s murder. But she may have some information. And now it looks as if she has left with the policeman.”
Manning spread his hands. “So?”
“So? So we expect you to find out from Ryker what he was talking about with Mrs. Lin.” Baluyevsky pointed to a monitor. Manning hadn’t noticed it was a freeze frame of Ryker and Valerie Lin, apparently speaking on the back patio. He looked at the image and sighed.
“You recorded them?”
“Video only. We have no audio pickups there.”
“I’ll see what I can find out during tomorrow’s meeting with Ryker. But if it’s not in the murder book, he’s not going to tell me anything about it.”
Baluyevsky wasn’t impressed. “You must find a way.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Then you may start now. Your services are no longer needed for the rest of this evening.”
That brightened Manning’s day. “And to think I thought you were just another Russian ass. Thanks, Alexsey.”
Baluyevsky’s face darkened, and he drew closer to Manning, towering over him. Most men would have been intimidated. Manning was not most men. “Do not try and ‘press my buttons’, Manning. You will not like what happens.”
“You better remember who came to who, Baluyevsky. And don’t ever walk up on me, unless you want to take this to the next level.”
Baluyevsky thought about that for a moment, then turned and opened the door. “You may leave.”
“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.”
Manning returned to the hallway. Maggie had disappeared, and he spent several minutes winding his way through the mansion, looking for her. He finally found her stepping in from the courtyard.
“I wanted to get another look at the city,” she explained.
“Feel like getting a close up?” Manning asked.
She smiled slightly, her eyes fixed on his. Something flickered in them, and Manning wondered what it was. Desire? Anticipation? He could only hope to find out.
“I would like that very much,” she said.
Manning led her to the front door.
Maggie Shi had no idea what she was doing.
She allowed Manning to lead her to his car, and buckled herself into the passenger seat while he started the vehicle and pulled away from the Lin estate. As the tremendous mansion faded from view behind them, the car glided through the darkness, heading toward the Golden Gate Bridge. Manning didn’t make much small talk, and neither did she. Not that he needed to. She knew what he did, and she knew who he was after.
She couldn’t find her answer, no matter how deeply she searched for it.
Or, more realistically, she couldn’t find an answer she liked.
Like Manning, she had seen Danny Lin’s wife depart with the police detective hot on her heels. She knew how to read body language, and while the cues from non-Asians were slightly more difficult for her to interpret, there was no mistaking what she saw. Both Lin Dan’s wife and the policeman Ryker were aroused by each other.
Maggie was thankful. Not just for the fact that the detective had been lured away from Lin estate. While she had been as careful as humanly possible to avoid all security during her murder of Lin Dan, the American police were very good at reassembling puzzles even when several pieces were missing. Not having Ryker on hand was better than having him underfoot. She was also thankful the Lin widow had someone to occupy her time, now that her vile husband was gone forever. She hoped that Ryker would bring her much pleasure.
She had left with Manning for the same reason as the Lin woman had lured away the detective. But there was a difference in their circumstances. Valerie Lin was doubtless emerging from behind a thick shell of repression and needed to experience the sensations of being desired again. This was something Maggie understood; in fact, as she glanced sidelong at Manning beside her, she felt much the same thing. Unlike Valerie Lin, this would be the final time Maggie would be made to feel desirable. It was unlikely that she would have the opportunity ever again.
She was surprised to see that Manning took her directly to his home without any attempt at subterfuge. No anti-surveillance maneuvers, barely nothing more than an occasional glance in the rearview mirror. He lived in a secure apartment building, though Maggie thought the “security” was a joke. Apparently, Manning did as well; as he parked his black GTO in the garage, he kept an eye on the mirrors as the door slid closed, and remained just as watchful even after he had exited the vehicle. He walked to the passenger side and opened Maggie’s door for her. She thanked him, then allowed him to lead her to his apartment directly. It was on the third floor, only a short elevator ride away. The unit was a two-bedroom affair, certainly not elaborate, but not cheap either-she knew San Francisco had the highest rents in the United States, and where Manning lived in Russian Hill was never considered cheap even in the worst of economies. It was sparsely furnished, though if by design or circumstance she could not tell. She knew Manning spent most of his time in Asia, so it seemed reasonable that his U.S. presence needn’t be terribly upscale. There were a few photos on the wall, most of them with a blond-haired woman and a young boy whose hair was darker. There was no official portrait, but Maggie saw much of Manning in the boy.
“My family,” he told her in a flat voice. “They were killed in a car accident in 2003, when I was in Afghanistan.”
Maggie nodded slowly. She knew all about the pain, the outright agony, such a loss could leave in its wake. She looked at Manning and studied him for a long moment. He stood beside her and looked at the photo with clear eyes, his face immobile, his body at rest. Though she doubted he could ever grow used to the fact his family was among the departed, it did seem that he had accepted it.
She didn’t know whether to judge that as a weakness or a strength.
Instead, she took his hand and led him to the bedroom.
The sexing was urgent, driven by a sudden desire that almost consumed her entirely. Two strong orgasms failed to even dent it. She climbed atop Manning and slowly impaled herself on him, then stretched out on his body and rocked her hips up and down. Their bodies slammed together in a hurried rhythm, their lips together, tongues touching as she pistoned up and down his length. He held out for as long as he could, and her next orgasm tore through her like a grenade blast. She felt her desire begin to unwind then, slowly uncoiling like a constrictor releasing its dead prey, only to have another wave of pleasure slam into her. She screamed into Manning’s mouth, and a moment later he moaned as he fired into her again and again and again.
CHAPTER 20
Alexsey Baluyevsky walked the grounds himself even though it was almost four in the morning. The courtyard had been cleaned and returned to its original, pristine condition, as had the interior of the great house behind him. All occupants were safe and accounted for. Baluyevsky had his security team searching the house throughout the
