Strand.
“Mr. Strand, I find it difficult to believe that someone who works for me could cause me that much damage and I would not yet have found him out. This is very disturbing.”
“He doesn’t work for you, Mr. Lu. He works with you.”
Lu’s head came up. “I see,” he said, and his eyes regarded Strand differently now, as though he was reexamining everything Strand had said in a different light. Strand watched as the old man reordered his thoughts, recalibrated his mental instruments to adjust for a new kind of measurement and calculation.
“This will be interesting,” Lu said finally. “But first, before we hear this name”-he cut his eyes at Mara and allowed a polite, almost timid, smile-“which you have so cleverly withheld up to now”-he came back to Strand, his smile fading-“what wicked thing do you want done in return for this… kindness?”
The note of irony in Lu’s voice was not lost on Strand. He did not want to respond too readily. He did not know what influenced him in this decision to be hesitant, but he gave in to it. He looked at Lu and tried to appear as guileless and straightforward as possible.
“I will be satisfied having done this,” he said.
Lu raised his eyebrows. He studied Strand. And then slowly, very slowly, a smile returned to his face.
“Oh, Mr. Strand,” he said, “that is a most revealing answer.”
Strand waited.
Now Lu adjusted his position in his chair, turning his body slightly toward Strand. He was still smiling, as though he were enjoying the game they were playing and he had just anticipated Strand’s next move.
“You must believe that you know me very well, Mr. Strand. Having brought this… valuable… information to me, you have already envisioned my response to it. You are satisfied that this response will suit you. And that is enough.”
He paused.
“Certainly, my reaction to such a traitorous association cannot be a happy one for the person under discussion. He may come to a bad end. Which will suit you. So. You betray him out of revenge. Or from a desire to be rid of a burden. Or from a deep-seated hatred. Or, perhaps, greed: you would benefit financially from his demise.”
He waited with an anticipatory expression, his eyes on Strand.
Strand met his gaze candidly. “I have many faults, Mr. Lu, but greed is not one of them. It doesn’t suit me.” And he left it at that.
Lu Kee continued looking at Strand for a moment and then stood up and walked a few steps to the tall windows that provided the fairy-tale view of Lake Como. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked out. He said nothing.
Strand glanced at Mara whose attention was fixed on Lu.
Lu turned around.
“Okay,” he said. “Who is it?”
“Wolfram Schrade.”
Lu’s face did not change. Then he tucked up his chin and turned down the corners on his mouth dismissively and shook his head.
“Well,” he said finally, “that’s very interesting.” Unhurriedly he sat down in his chair. He sat forward, closer to the coffee table between him and Strand. “Let me see what you have.”
Strand opened his briefcase and laid out on the table all the material he had prepared for Lu. The old man listened to him, looked at the photographs, read the documents, and let Strand explain to him what was on the recordings and the CD. Lu asked a few questions, which Strand answered while the old man listened carefully, pensively.
When Lu finally sat back in his chair, he shook his head again, thinking. He smiled at Mara as if to say he hadn’t forgotten she was there. He said to her:
“Do you know anything about the Song dynasty, Ms. Song?”
“A little…”
“Can you give me a single important fact about it?”
Mara, surprised by his question, smiled, embarrassed. She hesitated. “The Song were the first to provide a recipe for gunpowder, I believe, and they were the inventors of the true cannon used in warfare.”
Lu grinned, surprised and delighted. “Good. Can you name any famous historical figures of the Song?”
“I remember a famous outsider: Chinggis Khan, who overran most of the northern Song dynasty in 1215.” She paused. “Mmmm… I remember Su Shih, known as Su Dongpo, perhaps the greatest essayist and poet in the Chinese tradition. There is Zhu Xi, the dynasty’s greatest educator, who established many academies and revived Confucianism.”
Lu laughed softly, nodding. “Good, good, very good. Okay, one last question: What was the Song’s greatest accomplishment?”
Mara did not hesitate. “In my opinion…” She looked at him and tilted her head for permission.
Lu nodded.
“Its greatest accomplishment is that in its three-hundred-and-nineteen-year history, there was not a single tyrant among the Song emperors.”
Lu continued to beam at her. Then, slowly, he lifted his hands just above his head and applauded silently while inclining his head in a bow to her.
“I applaud your knowledge… and your sound good judgment. And I applaud your father’s intelligence and sense of responsibility.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lu, but it was my mother, not my father, who taught me the history of the Song. As well as the history of Abraham and his people.”
“Then I commend your mother even more. Her daughter has honored her.” He looked at Strand. “Would either of you care for something to drink? I would like a few more words with you, and then you may go.”
They both declined Lu’s offer for refreshment, and the old man went on.
“Mr. Strand, the information you have brought me poses an interesting situation for me. You see, it seems that Wolfram Schrade has been committing adultery with both the wife… and the husband.”
Strand frowned.
Lu put his short legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. Even in his casual clothes, he was elegant. Strand expected that he still went to Savile Row for everything he wore. He was clearly an Anglophile at heart. Lu went on.
“It must have been shortly after you retired from the service that Mr. Schrade came to me with a proposition. He said that he had had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of an intelligence officer in the United States Foreign Intelligence Service. He said that this man, who was very well placed, would be retiring in a few years, and he was interested in building a retirement fund for himself.”
Strand’s pulse quickened.
“I began making payments. Strategic bits of intelligence began coming my way. I benefited greatly from this. I gathered from a few remarks by Mr. Schrade that I was not the only one receiving helpful… information. Nor was I the only one whose enterprises profited, literally, from this arrangement.”
“You’re still paying?”
“No.” He smiled. “That’s why I can tell you. Mr. Schrade stopped it about eighteen months ago. He said something had happened: he could no longer trust his source.”
“So, you received information from this man, via Schrade, for about three and a half years.”
“About three years.” He looked at Strand steadily, trying to see the effect of this surprising information. Strand gave him no satisfaction.
Strand said, “Why have you told me this?”
“Because, sir, I am afraid my reaction to the news you have brought me will not be suitable to you.”
Strand’s stomach tightened.
“I am skeptical that I can… affect… Wolfram Schrade’s life in any way.”
Strand’s disappointment was sudden and complete.
Lu nodded at the coffee table and the papers and photographs, the audiotape and CD.
“I trust your information, Mr. Strand. I believe it. If circumstances were different, I would act upon it as you
