He was going to point out that her earlier mistake had led to the attack in the alley, but she didn’t strike him as a person who wanted or needed such reminders. Still, as he pieced it together, he couldn’t help himself.
“Yang’s men must have overheard your ranting about me taking the GPS from you,” he said.
She looked struck. “I had not considered.”
“Nor I. But that’s why they hit us with force: they knew we had Danny’s GPS.”
“My apartment,” she said.
“There’s something I haven’t mentioned,” he said. “A guy thing. The way Yang Cheng and his bodyguard looked at you at the cocktail party. It wasn’t casual. It was…all-knowing.”
She stared at him. “I do not understand.”
“There’s checking out a woman, and then there’s the X-ray vision thing. The full body scan. The snicker. Boys in the treehouse. These two had seen you.”
“Of course. They were looking at me.”
“Had seen you in…private. Your apartment, I’m thinking.”
She pursed her lips.
“Listen. They were ogling you.”
He saw her shiver.
“We might be able to use that,” Knox said.
Her eyes pleaded for him to stop.
“I need to call Sarge and let him know we’re blown,” Knox said.
“And injured.”
“He can inform Marquardt.”
“I will take care of that when I see him and Preston Song. John, I am sorry for this. It is my fault.”
He didn’t disagree with her. “The assault. After the hurt we put on Yang Cheng’s guys…even though they won’t report it to the police, there’s a good chance the police will hear about it. Way too many eyes in this city. So we can add the police to the list of people to avoid.”
He chugged down half his beer. “Face recognition.” He burped. “Sarge warned me. We need to take care.”
She sipped from the bottle. “When he hears of your injury, Mr. Dulwich will order you back to Hong Kong.”
“So he won’t hear. Besides, I don’t answer to Sarge.”
“We both answer to Mr. Dulwich,” she corrected. “He is our immediate superior.”
“It’s a cultural thing,” he said.
“I believe we will be recalled.”
He scoffed. “Let me ask you this: if they ‘recall’ us, are you going to leave Lu Hao behind?”
She nursed the beer, eyes probing over the curve of the bottle.
“Me neither,” Knox said.
13
12:10 P.M.
TOMORROW SQUARE
SHANGHAI
The White Lotus, located on the twenty-seventh floor of the Marriott Tower in Tomorrow Square, had a dozen private rooms off its central dining room. Each private room had an expansive view of the city. A private waitstaff came and went; only the headwaiter remained in the room, arms behind his back, standing rigidly in the corner.
Allan Marquardt dismissed him. The round table could accommodate ten. Three was somewhat awkward. Preston Song sat slightly closer to Marquardt than to Grace, isolating her from the center of power. A soft forty- something with piggish eyes, Song wore a glorious blue suit, a gold tie pin and a leering look of displeasure.
Grace updated them on the Sherpa’s connection and her possessing Danner’s GPS locations all in an effort to gain the elusive end-of-year accounting.
“From what you’ve told us, you’ve clearly made progress,” Marquardt said. “We’re encouraged by that.”
“I understand you have done well with negotiations,” she said.
“Yes.”
Preston Song studied her distrustfully.
Grace collected her thoughts and sought a professional and confident tone. “In our pursuit of Lu Hao’s accounts, and location, my associate and I have questioned those people on Lu Hao’s route-those receiving incentives. I am afraid none is a candidate for Lu Hao’s kidnapper. During this process, we were made aware of a recent payment added to Lu Hao’s route.” She watched for reaction. Marquardt smirked. Preston Song revealed nothing.
“If we are to be effective, we need to know who these people are, and the purpose of the payment.” She paused, waiting.
Song was too practiced to allow anything to show on his face.
She said, “The first of two payments occurred on or before the tenth of last month,” having gleaned the date from the voice memo on Danner’s GPS.
Song’s eyes were fixed as she imagined him working out what to say.
“My dear girl,” Song said, “as we approach the conclusion of a project the size and scope of the Xuan Tower, it is only natural that unforeseen expenses arise.”
“Additional incentives must be paid. Understandable,” she said, knowing then that Song oversaw the payment of incentives for The Berthold Group, and acted as a buffer, protecting Marquardt.
“The point is,” she continued, “these men have taken an active interest in our efforts to find Mr. Lu. Knowing their exact role is crucial. If I may be direct: we need to know if they are friends or enemies. To date, they are behaving much like enemies.”
A knock on the door interrupted her. Song wore an irritable expression as a wave of servers delivered dim sum. Tea was poured. As quickly as the servers arrived, they were gone. The food moved around on a lazy Susan, propelled by Marquardt’s hand. Plates were filled.
“What was the purpose of these payments?” she asked.
Marquardt rested his chopsticks on the small porcelain lift alongside his fork, his appetite apparently gone.
“Your line of questioning is growing impertinent,” Song said.
“This information is central to our task and to our safety,” Grace said. “Extortion? Blackmail? Might it have to do with the documentary being shot? The missing cameraman?”
Marquardt looked up quickly, his eyes piercing. Song never skipped a beat, eating the dim sum before it went cold.
“The first I heard of the matter was a few days ago,” said Marquardt. “I promise you, we have nothing to do with this.”
“And these most recent payments?”
“As Preston has said: end of project stuff. The usual unforeseen complications.” He paused deliberately for a breath. “We have every hope and intention of getting Mr. Lu back safely. With your help, that is. Certain financial matters need to remain confidential. There are millions of dollars at play, as you can well imagine. If these matters had anything to do with Mr. Lu-anything at all-we would not hesitate for a moment to share them with you. Do you understand? We’re not fools. We want the same thing as you do.”
It occurred to her that Lu Hao might have discovered the film crew. He could not resist anything to do with film. His passion was the reason he-and everyone else-was in this mess. He had put his family on the brink of financial ruin because of his passion.
Song said, “This most recent increase to our subcontractor’s invoice was approved and paid out. Nothing more. The reason we hire such subcontractors is so that someone else handles these complications.”
She knew very well why they hired such subcontractors: so their criminal acts of bribery fell onto others. She bit her tongue.
