White Tiger

“We need to speak with Ren. Is he still here?”

Nyby didn’t miss a beat. “Mr. Ren isn’t available, I’m afraid.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Ryker nodded to the second floor window where Ren stood watching them. He was now smoking a cigarette. “Seems to me he’s pretty free at the moment.”

Nyby turned and looked up. His expression didn’t change a bit when he faced the policemen again.

“As I said. Mister Ren is not available.”

Ryker put his hands on his hips. “Let me talk to your boss. What’s his name, Baluyevsky?”

Something flickered behind Nyby’s eyes at the mention of his boss, and Ryker caught it like a shark seizing a fish in its teeth.

“What happened to the Russian?” he asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nyby said.

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s total bullshit,” Chee Wei added. He must have seen the flicker as well, and he took a couple of steps toward Nyby. “What are you hiding, Nyby?”

Nyby stepped back, keeping both men in sight. “I’m hiding nothing. No one is available to speak with you gentlemen now. Next time, please call ahead, or bring a warrant.”

Chee Wei’s cell phone was in his hand in a flash. “I’ll get a telephone warrant right now. Marin and San Francisco counties have full reciprocity, did you know that? I can get a Marin county judge to sign off on a warrant, and a Tiburon detective will deliver it.”

“Fuck that.” Ryker walked directly to the house. Nyby started to reach out and stop him, but thought twice about it. He tried to put himself between Ryker and house instead.

“You can’t go in there. It’s private property, and you’re not even in your jurisdiction! We’ll have your badge for this!”

“And I’ll have Danny Lin’s killer. A suitable trade, right? Now get out of the way, pencil neck.” Ryker slipped past Nyby as Chee Wei approached him from the other side, his hand already resting on the butt of his pistol. Nyby saw the stance and kept his hand well away from his own weapon, but he continued to try and block Ryker.

“You can’t go in there!” he said.

“Then call the police. I think you’re hiding something, so I’m pretty sure you’ll be happy to have them roll up, right?”

Nyby faltered slightly at that, and Ryker pushed past him. He threw open the great wooden door and walked into the house, his footfalls echoing loudly in the granite entry hall.

“What is it that you want with me,” Ren said. Ryker determined his manner to be a combination of imperious, surly, and just plain nasty as they sat in second floor library. The same room Ren had looked down at them from. If he’d known Ryker and Chee Wei had been looking for him, Ryker was certain he wouldn’t have exposed himself at the window.

Chee Wei translated the statement into English for Ryker. Ren maintained he didn’t speak English, so Chee Wei was stuck with the translation duty. The suited Ryker fine; at least he could trust his own partner. Another Chinese man and Nyby stood in the room as well. The Chinese man hadn’t been introduced, but he was one of Lin’s people. Not a security guard, probably more of a personal assistant, Ryker guessed. He had offered to translate on behalf of Ren, but Ryker had refused.

“Tell him we’re going to talk about the days in China when he was with the Communist party. Specifically, tell him we’re going to talk about his meeting with Lin Jong before coming to the United States.”

Chee Wei looked at him oddly. “This guy-?”

Ryker nodded. “This guy was meeting with Lin Jong around the time he was iced.” Behind him, Ryker heard both Nyby and the Chinese man stir uneasily.

Chee Wei told Ren what Ryker had said. At the mention of Lin Jong’s name (this time with the proper intonation, something that had escaped Ryker completely), the old man’s eyes grew even more hooded. He lit another cigarette with a cheap lighter and flicked ashes into the standing ashtray beside his chair. Chee Wei translated his replies for Ryker.

“What business is that of yours?”

“The murder of Lin Jong directly relates to the murder of Lin Dan. This makes it our business.”

“Talk to the Shanghai police.”

“They’re not interested in sharing the details of a murder case they are actively investigating. And I don’t think they could tell me what you can tell me, Mister Ren.”

Ren snorted and blew smoke from his nostrils. “And what makes you think I’ll tell you anything? Why should I even talk to you? Have I broken any of your laws?”

“None,” Ryker said. “But you might have information that could save your friend’s life. We believe that as of right now, James Lin is in great danger, and that whoever killed his sons is now coming for him.”

Ren listened to Chee Wei’s translation. He puffed on his cigarette for a long moment as he thought this over. He then nodded to the Chinese man standing next to Nyby by the door. The two men left, closing the door behind them almost soundlessly. Ren looked at Ryker directly.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why were you meeting with Lin’s eldest son in Shanghai?”

“I’m here on business. Lin Jong was the president of the business unit my organization deals with in Shanghai. This was an official business-to-business visit. Lin Jong was acting as his father’s intermediary, and was kind enough to arrange for the appropriate visas and such. And as he is the son of my oldest friend, it was my duty to ensure he was well taken care of during his time in Shanghai.”

“Taken care of how, exactly?”

“Dinners. Entertainment. Not whores or drugs, like you think. That’s not my job.”

“Who was Lin Jong involved with in China?”

“I would have no idea.”

“The son of your oldest friend? The man you sponsored back into the Communist Party after Mao died? The man who oversaw the purges in Shanghai? And you have no idea who a man as important to you as Lin Jong was involved with?”

Ren glared at Ryker for a moment, then stubbed out his cigarette. He folded his hands across his belly and leaned back in the rich, leather chair he sat in. He looked up at the wood-paneled ceiling for a moment.

“I see you’re very well informed,” he said after a time. “How did you get such information?”

“From China, of course. But I’m not at liberty to discuss the workings of nation-to-nation cooperation.”

Ren snorted again and looked at Chee Wei. He said something that Chee Wei didn’t translate right away, and whatever it was, it pissed off the younger detective. He stared at Ren angrily.

“Hey, what did he say?” Ryker asked.

“He said that if anyone in my family passed that information off to us, that person was now dead,” Chee Wei said. His voice was hard, stony, and he kept his gaze locked with Ren’s. “This guy’s a fucking maggot.”

“Tell him he’s a fool. Tell him the Shanghai police are working with us directly, that they need to save face by solving Lin Jong’s murder. Then tell him to answer my last question: Who was Lin Jong boffing in China?”

Chee Wei fired away in strident, rapid-fire Mandarin. Ren Yun reached for another cigarette and lit it with his cheap lighter. He exhaled smoke, and it refracted the light coming in from the window behind him, adding a cathedral-like effect to the room.

“I have no idea who Lin Jong was seeing in Shanghai. He was a handsome young man. I have no doubt he did not lack for companionship. But he was discreet, very much unlike his younger brother. Lin Jong was brought up in a different time than Lin Dan. Excesses were not easily obtained, and if they were, they were never overlooked. Punishment was a constant in China in those days-not like today, where every red prince has a harem of women following him around all day, every day. Lin Jong was mindful of his place in our society, and equally mindful of his father’s station. And mine. He would not compromise us with an open dalliance. But I do not mean to say he had no one. I simply mean to say I do not know who that person, or persons, might be.”

“Who from your entourage met with him?”