them dated back to the nineteenth century, when this area was an enclave of foreign privilege, and Shanghai thrived on trade in tea, silk and opium. Where once the flags of many countries flew from these rooftops, now hung the distinctive scarlet Chinese flag.
The wide avenue paralleling the Huangpu fronted a river walk that held ten thousand or more Chinese tourists on a given night. Weekend nights, there were even more. There was a European grandeur to the Bund, like Grand- Place in Brussels, or the Champs-Elysees in Paris, an architectural nobility. The air buzzed with an intoxicating mix of human excitement, ships’ horns and the whine of vehicles.
Arriving at a group of valets, Knox had a glimpse of the teeming quay and beyond it, the neon- and LCD- charged Pudong skyline. The Pearl Tower flashed pink and turquoise through the evening darkness. Ten-story screens on the sides of high-rises played advertisements for Coke and KFC. Tens of thousands of tourists jammed the elevated quay, all jostling for a piece of the famous view.
Grace waited on the steps, pushed back against a handrail while watching guests being dropped off by their drivers. Mercedes, Lexus, BMW, the ubiquitous chauffeured blue Buick minivan, a symbol of the corporate expatriate life.
She looked ravishing in a short purple raw silk jacket over a black tea dress with a high neckline. A string of turquoise and red coral complimented her long neck. Her hair, not a strand out of place, was pulled back into a bun stabbed into place by a length of tortoiseshell.
She leaned to kiss Knox on the cheek, ever the role player. “You will find, unlike our American counterparts, Chinese women are always on time.”
Knox checked his watch. Five minutes late.
“You look…lovely,” he said.
“And I would take this as a compliment if I heard conviction over surprise.”
He took her arm, his grip strong on her elbow, and guided her up the marble steps.
Grace resisted. “I would prefer a drink, alone, before we go up.” She seemed hyperaware that anything and everything said between them might be heard. She angled her head across the street.
“Your wish-” he said, escorting her through a break in traffic.
They rode the elevator to New Heights, a seventh-floor restaurant and bar that also overlooked the river. They had a view across Guangdong Road and through the windows into the Glamour Bar where Yang Cheng’s party was already underway.
The bar itself was made of thick, frosted slab glass, the liquor bottles reflected off shiny shelves of black lacquer. He ordered a beer, and she a glass of Champagne. With no seats to be found, they stood at a chest-high drink counter.
“So?” Knox said.
“Before we go upstairs and into that,” Grace said, pointing toward the Glamour Bar, “where honestly we must play our roles to perfection-I wanted to know when you were going to tell me about what you are carrying in your coat pocket?”
Knox leaned away.
“I felt it when you kissed me on the steps. You don’t smoke. It is not a cigarette case. It is too heavy, and too big for a phone. Too light for a handgun, too bulky for another kind of weapon-a knife, for instance. It is in your right pocket-you are right-handed, so you obviously wanted it close.”
“Obviously.” He swallowed dryly and looked for the beer.
“A video camera?” she asked.
He glanced into the reflection off the glass, admiring her. Small, but beautiful. Fiercely put together into a showcase of fashion and femininity, giving no hint of the physical power she no doubt contained from her army training. Her focus. Most of all: her control. Lowering his voice, he said, “My friend’s GPS.”
“Ayee!” she let slip.
“It was your suggestion: the impound.”
Grace snarled. She clearly didn’t want compliments or small talk.
“I can follow its moving map. But I don’t know the city well enough to know if a waiguoren will stick out. And as much as I don’t care who’s there to greet me, I don’t want to put Danner at risk. We can’t afford mistakes. Not with only a couple days to go. We know they’ve moved at least once. I don’t want them moving again.”
He passed it across to her. “There are seven saved locations. It’s got to be Lu’s payout route. Danner follows Lu Hao and marks each location where he leaves a bribe. It’s better for us than his accounts.”
“We do not know what these locations are.”
“I know how Danner is,” he said. “Trust me: this is the money trail.”
Grace said, “It could be nothing but his favorite restaurants or massage parlors.”
“Then let’s go get a bite and a rub and see what kind of tastes he has.”
She turned on the GPS and scrolled through the saved locations.
“It is an interesting mix of neighborhoods,” she said.
“I’m listening.”
She looked across at him as if she considered this a rarity.
“Some are poor,” Grace said. “Others, upscale.”
“Both fit for kickbacks,” he said, “depending who’s on the take.”
“The riverfront compound across in Pudong,” she said. “Luxury condominiums for Chinese. Party officials. Businessmen.”
“You see?”
She softened and then said, “We do not want to accuse such people. We must leave this to others. Very powerful. Very connected, such people.”
“I have no intention of accusing anyone. I want to have a nice, quiet sit-down with them all.”
Grace flashed her disapproval.
“You want to involve accusations and lawyers?” Knox asked. “We have two days.”
“I want Lu Hao’s accounts,” she countered.
He threw up his hands. “I’m open to ideas, but this,” he said, tapping the GPS in her hands, “this is the closest thing we have to a lead.”
“This is not a good idea.”
“Help me with the neighborhoods, please. Danner bookmarked these locations. I need to have a look.”
Grace switched off the device and slipped it into her purse.
“Give me that!” Knox drew some looks.
“You must trust me,” she said.
“You’re not working real hard to earn it. Give it back, please. Or I’ll take it from you.”
“It is no good at night, this kind of thing. You must trust me. You ask for my advice on Shanghai. This is my advice. We must plan double egress for each location. Establish rendezvous. We will meet early tomorrow morning, at six A.M. First light. We will do this together. Early morning, the traffic is not as bad. This is a good time for us, John Knox.”
He attempted to cool himself down with the beer. He failed. His attention remained on her purse and the GPS it contained, but his eyes did not. He didn’t want her playing defense.
“To absent friends,” he said, hoisting the bottle and waiting for her Champagne glass.
7:30 P.M.
THE BUND
The Glamour Bar’s lavish Art Deco interior was a throwback to the heyday of Shanghai in the 1930s, when commerce, intrigue and opium conspired to form the most unique and magnificent city in all of Asia.
Knox and Grace were checked against a guest list and then welcomed by a gorgeous twenty-something hostess. The bar was a black granite island in a central room off which hung two sitting rooms and an elevated lounge that overlooked the Huangpu River. Pudong’s neon-trimmed high-rises flashed colorfully. River tour boats, tricked-out in neon and more video screens, slipped between coal-laden barges. It was Times Square times ten, with Broadway a quarter-mile-wide black water river.
The bar crowd was a mixture of Chinese and expatriates, the Asian women breathtaking, the men
