detail.”
“Now you know. Are you angry?”
“Angry? Because you became hard at the sight of me? No, I see what you mean. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The circumstances were less than ideal. My husband had died. You were the bearer of sad tidings. You carried out your duty well. And you were honest with me. I remember that too. Please, I can’t wait any longer. Please….”
He put his hands around her tiny waist and lifted her up off the floor. She put her arms around his neck and drew her knees up to her chest. They enjoyed an exquisite moment where his swollen and eager cock head hovered directly beneath her wet and fully open sex, just barely touching her labia with every beat of his heart. Her breath came in desperate gasps. Sweat ran down her face. He lowered her onto his pole. Her furnace enclosed him totally. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Without warning she let go of his neck and leaned completely back, so he had to hold her hips to stop her from falling off. Whimpering noises escaped from her throat. He moved her up and down, hoping he was doing the right thing. Her insides clamped about him, giving him a clue. He kept at it, hoping his heart didn’t give out before she took her pleasure.
CHAPTER 16
For the thousandth time, Manning had to wonder just what the hell he was doing.
He’d been at the S.F.P.D. precinct for over an hour, waiting in a small interrogation room. All had gone well upon his arrival. He’d left his firearm at home, so going through the metal detector hadn’t been an issue, but the uniformed cop manning it had gone over his body with a wand anyway, just to be sure. His California driver’s license had been scanned and entered into a computer, and from that a temporary badge had been made, which bore his photo, name, and the legend ESCORTED. After that, he’d been buzzed into the stationhouse itself, and escorted by another uniformed officer to the interrogation room. Manning had been unnerved that this is where he had been taken, and it left him wondering if the Tokyo police had made him after all. The door had been left open, and as Manning sat at the table in the center of the room, passersby would look in at him. Manning looked back, his face a composed mask.
Finally, the door opened. An officious-looking woman stepped in, followed by a man in a rumpled suit. He regarded Manning with bleary eyes. The woman walked directly toward the desk and held out her hand.
“Mr. Manning?” she asked, even though he was sitting alone in the room and wearing a name badge. “Good afternoon-I’m Selma Kaplan, from the district attorney’s office, and this is Detective Sergeant Hal Ryker, the lead investigator on the case.”
Manning rose and shook Kaplan’s hand. Her grip was firm, but her handshake was perfunctory. She released his hand and put her attache case on the desk.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Jerry Manning.” Manning held his hand out to Ryker. Ryker stared at it for a moment, then settled on a nod instead.
“Sorry for the wait,” he said unconvincingly.
Manning dropped his hand. “Yeah… no problem. I think you guys know why I’m here?”
“We do, and if you’ll bear with me for just a moment…” Kaplan opened her attache case and pulled out three stacks of forms that had been neatly stapled together. She spread them on the desk and held out a pen to Manning.
“These are the nondisclosure forms you’ll need to review and sign before Sergeant Ryker can share anything regarding the Lin case with you. The language has already been vetted by both the D.A.’s office and Mr. Lin’s legal representatives. Were you informed of this?”
Manning nodded.
“Then here you are.” Kaplan wiggled the pen she held. Manning took it, gave the forms a cursory examination, and then signed all three copies under her watchful eye. If these weren’t the forms Lin’s attorneys had agreed to, then so much the better. Manning didn’t care one way or the other.
“Thank you,” Kaplan said when Manning returned her pen. “The S.F.P.D. gets one copy, the district attorney’s office retains the second, and Mr. Lin will receive the third by messenger tomorrow morning.” She gathered up the signed forms, dropped them in her attache case, and snapped it shut. Her movements were quick and economical, and Manning had no doubt she was an apex predator in the San Francisco court system.
“I’ll leave you and Sergeant Ryker alone now. Thank you, Mr. Manning.”
Manning shook her hand again. “My pleasure.”
With that, Kaplan left the room. Ryker closed the door behind her. He had a thick notebook under one arm. He looked back at Manning with flat blue eyes, his expression one of barely-concealed disgust. Manning maintained a poker face as he looked back. He figured Ryker was a few years younger than he was, and shorter. He was broader in the shoulders and his dark hair was neatly combed, but there was a haggard cast to his face. Whether it was because Ryker was a cop who had seen too much or just didn’t sleep well at night, Manning had no idea. He watched as Ryker slowly sat in the chair across the table from him. Ryker clasped his hands together on top of the notebook and stared at Manning for a good thirty seconds without saying anything.
“So are we just going to stare at one another, or are we going to get down to it?” Manning said finally. He pointed to the notebook.
“I don’t like this, Manning. I don’t like it at all.” Ryker’s voice was a ragged baritone, commanding and maybe even a bit imperious.
Manning shrugged. “Not my problem, Detective.”
“Detective sergeant,” Ryker corrected.
“Is that your full name?”
Ryker didn’t smile. Manning slid back into his chair, and kept his palms flat on the table. Its surface was marred here and there by scratches, old coffee stains and even older cigarette burns which must have dated back to the 1980s.
“I had you checked out,” Ryker said before Manning could continue. “You’re an interesting guy.”
“Really.” Manning tried hard not to let his chronic disinterest creep into his voice, but he failed.
“Former Army Special Forces. Afghanistan, Iraq, Panama. Been around the block a couple of times, huh?”
Manning said nothing.
“Tried out for Delta Force, but didn’t make the cut,” Ryker said unexpectedly. “Why was that?”
“It was boring,” Manning said.
Ryker grunted and leaned forward with his hands pressed against the notebook, as if frightened Manning might try to snatch it away.
“Delta Force was boring, huh?”
Manning said nothing, just waited. He didn’t have to wait for long.
“What’s a supposedly stand-up guy like you doing working for a scumbag like James Lin?” Ryker asked.
“What does it matter, sergeant?”
“He have something on you?”
“What could he ‘have’ on me, sergeant?”
“You tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“You work in Asia a lot these days, right? Security interests?”
“A lot of ex-military go into the security business after leaving the service.”
“Yeah. Blackwell, Pinkerton…but you, you work for yourself. A hired gun sometimes, maybe some other stuff. You work for Lin in the past?”
“This is the first time I’ve worked for James Lin,” Manning said. “I’ve never worked for him or his family before.”
“What about for one of his companies?” Ryker pressed.
“Not that I’m aware of. Look, Ryker-I know Lin has you pressed to the mat, and I respect that. But you keep dancing around and drag things out, I’ll eventually have to tell him you’re not being cooperative. That’ll probably go
