efficiently, not caring about the specific contents. He found no tripwires, no electronics, no detonators or plastic explosives-the most menacing thing he found was a letter opener crafted from pure silver.
And a small Walther PPS pistol. Manning looked at Lin as he pulled the weapon from the drawer and inspected it.
“Do you know how to use this?”
Lin’s voice carried the requisite affront. “Do you think I’m a fool, Manning? For what reason would I have something I did not know how to use?”
Manning ejected the magazine and looked at the ammunition. The pistol fired.40 caliber rounds, and all looked fairly new. He slapped the mag back into place and pulled back the slide. A round was already in the chamber. Manning released the slide and placed the weapon on the desk.
“Keep that on you.”
“You think I’ll need it? Aren’t you here to guard me?”
“If you need it, I’ll be dead.” Manning waved toward the chair. “You might as well have a seat. And think about where you want to order lunch from.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Manning checked his watch. “You will be later, and this is going to take a while.”
Lin sat in his chair and slid it toward his desk. He picked up the Walther and turned it over in his hand, examining it closely. He put it back on the desk after a moment and looked up at Manning.
“My secretary orders for me.”
Manning pointed to the computer on Lin’s desk. “Then start surfing the web, Lin Yubo. Find a place that delivers…but not one that’s too close. Just in case.”
Lin sighed again and switched on the computer. Manning left the office and stepped into the secretary’s area. He closed the outer door, then dragged the secretary’s rolling chair inside Lin’s office and closed the door behind him. He rolled the chair over to Lin’s desk and sat down at one end, and started playing the waiting game.
Chee Wei drove his sparkling Lexus up Interstate 101 as if it was a fighter jet and he was hot on a bogey’s tail. Ryker sat in the passenger seat, fairly terrified as the young detective weaved in and out of the light traffic, pushing the car hard, even across the Golden Gate Bridge. He tailgated incessantly and changed lanes without even touching the turn signal, all the while listening to blaring, saccharine-sweet Canto-pop music that did nothing to ease Ryker’s tension. All Ryker could do was sit like a statue in his leather seat and try not to shit his pants.
It got worse across the bridge, when Chee Wei accelerated up the twisting roads like he was trying to win the Nextel Cup, blasting through the shifts, cutting over into the opposite lane so he could pass slower-moving traffic. When he narrowly avoided hitting a moving truck head-on, Ryker reached out and turned down the music. He heard the truck’s blaring horn fade behind them.
“Isn’t this car
“You know, we’re not going to get any answers if we roll up to Lin’s place dead.”
Chee Wei looked over at him while still accelerating, and Ryker pressed himself back in his seat as the rear bumper of a minivan loomed seemingly just outside the windshield. Chee Wei stood on the brakes and slowed the Lexus suddenly, a look of disappointment on his face.
“Shit, Hal. You’d think you were scared, or something. Live a little, pal!”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do-live. Now please…drive like a sane person. Okay?”
Chee Wei looked properly downtrodden. “What the hell do I look like, a grandmother? This is a
“As if that means anything? What, if we crash, we won’t die?”
Chee Wei pouted and did as Ryker asked, keeping the Lexus high-performance sedan traveling at a more leisurely pace. But just to demonstrate his angst, he turned up the stereo and sang with the music. Thankfully the music was so loud that Ryker couldn’t really hear his warbling voice.
Eventually they made it to the Lin estate. The guard manning the gate looked at the Lexus with a dour expression. He wore a sharply pressed gray uniform and walked with military precision. He was also armed, and had a radio transceiver clipped to one shoulder epaulet.
“Help you?” he said.
Chee Wei showed him his badge. “Detective Fong, S.F.P.D., along with Detective Sergeant Ryker. We’re investigating the Lin Dan murder.”
“So?”
“So?
The guard looked at Chee Wei’s identification card, which was next to his badge. “S.F.P.D.? A little outside of your jurisdiction, right?”
Ryker leaned toward Chee Wei and caught the guard’s eye. “Maybe you should call the house. Tell Lin we’re here to see him. After all, it was
“Yeah well, maybe. Of course, he’s not here.”
Ryker frowned. “Where did he go?”
“Didn’t say. He doesn’t exactly report to me, you know.” The guard put his hands in his pockets.
“What about his guest? Mister Ren.”
“What about him?”
“Listen, we don’t have a lot of time. We need to get inside. You going to open the gate?”
“You have an appointment?”
Ryker unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car. Chee Wei started to say something, then closed his mouth. Ryker looked over the car’s roof at the guard with steely eyes.
“Do yourself a favor. Call your boss. Tell him who’s here. Tell him we need access to Mr. Ren. Because if you don’t, rent-a-cop, I might just have to break my foot off in your ass.”
The security guard glared at Ryker for a long moment, then shot him a crooked smile. He reached for the radio at his shoulder and spoke into it as he walked back to his little shack. Ryker didn’t hear the answer, for he stepped inside the structure and pulled the door halfway closed. Ryker kept standing outside of Chee Wei’s idling car.
The gate slid open, and the guard waved them through. Ryker got back into the car without thanking the guard, and Chee Wei accelerated the Lexus up the driveway.
“Gosh Hal, think you were a little harsh on the guy?” he said.
Ryker chuckled. “Never underestimate the power of the po-po.”
Chee Wei pulled up into the huge drive in front of the mansion and slipped the Lexus’s transmission into park when the front door opened and a man in a suit stepped out of the house. Ryker made out the telltale bulges of a radio and a sidearm under his jacket immediately. He threw open his door and stepped out of the car. The man walked toward the vehicle and stopped by the front left fender as Chee Wei got out himself.
“Gentlemen, I’m Christian Nyby. How can I help you?”
“Ryker and Fong, San Francisco Police. We’re actively working the Danny Lin murder case. I’m sure you know about that.” Ryker looked from the man to the imposing mansion behind him, eyes scanning the windows, looking for anyone who might be watching. He caught a glimpse of movement in one of the second story windows as someone pulled open a drape. And there was Ren Yun, glaring down at Ryker and the others as if they were nothing more than putrid waste that hadn’t gone down the toilet on the first flush.
“I do know that, but I’ll still need to see your identifications, if that’s all right,” the security man said.
Chee Wei pulled his and handed it over. Ryker slowly walked around the car and reached for his. Nyby checked the IDs, then handed them back. He looked at Ryker for a long moment, and Ryker looked back.
“What?”
“Weren’t you wearing that suit last night?” Nyby asked.
Ryker ignored the question, and Chee Wei’s inquisitive expression. His only response was to stare at Nyby as if he was a common hood. Nyby got the message.
“Anyway, Mister Lin isn’t here. So I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.” Nyby smiled sympathetically, but it looked 100 % false. “Maybe next time, you can call ahead, save yourself some trouble.”
