“Have a seat, captain.”
“I’ll stand.”
“Captain. I have no jurisdiction over you. I have no authority to arrest or investigate anyone. But I can sure as hell bring a shit storm to your door. A cloud of investigation the likes of which you cannot even begin to imagine.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. Not at all. But I would be interested in what the Department of Justice has to say about a police officer on a sweatshop owner’s payroll.”
“I need to speak with the girl. There was a murder at Chang Industries this afternoon and the girl may have been the only witness.”
“What is an incapacitated girl from a sweatshop going to know about a murder?”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t understand. If you need to question someone, start with the doctor. Ask him about the bandage on his neck. Do your job. Believe me, when this girl starts telling her story, I don’t think you are going to want to have the questions streaming into your office. And I will make sure they do.”
Captain Talua considered his options. On the off chance the man before him wasn’t bluffing, he folded.
“Have a good day, Mr. Foti.”
“And you, Captain.”
The captain waited for two of his officers to arrive and lead the doctor away. As C.F. Chang’s personal physician exited the door, his hands cuffed behind his back, he yelled out over his shoulder to Wei Ling in the wheelchair. “
It had been an hour since Wei Ling first opened her eyes—a brief visit to the conscious world before fading out seconds later. In the hour since her initial arousal, Tom and Jake took turns speaking softly to the girl in the wheelchair.
“Wei Ling?” Tom asked, sitting in a chair, their faces on the same level no more than a foot apart. “Wei Ling?” he asked again with the same soft tone. The thin Chinese sweatshop worker with the child of a senator in her womb looked at Tom and nodded ever so slightly.
“My name is Tom Foti and I work for the U.S. government. You are safe now. You have nothing to fear.”
Wei Ling smiled a doped-up grin, hope radiating in her slowly clearing mind. Twenty minutes later, as she realized she was no longer captive, warm tears trickled down her cheeks. It was only a matter of time before the sedatives would wear off, and she would have to make a decision that would change her life forever.
Another hour passed as Jake paced the floor. Tom Foti went outside to talk on his incessantly ringing cell phone. Wei Ling opened her eyes and said, “water.”
Jake jumped from his seat, raced across the charter terminal, and fetched a paper cone cup of spring water. He handed her the water, sat down, and introduced himself to Wei Ling with a handshake. Her hand was weak, clammy, her fingers calloused.
“My name is Jake. My father is Peter Winthrop.”
Wei Ling looked at Jake with warm eyes. “I didn’t know Peter had a son.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about him. There are a lot of things
“He sent you to get me?” Wei Ling asked, groggily.
Jake paused. The question was a hopeful one. Jake didn’t want to be breaking hearts and trashing dreams, however misguided. He certainly didn’t want to be doing his father’s dirty work, telling women things his father wasn’t man enough to say himself. Jake swallowed and answered without elaborating. “No, my father didn’t send me. I’m sorry.”
“How did you know about me?”
“It is a long story. But I guess your friends were looking out for you.”
Tom Foti came back into the room and interrupted. His jacket was off. The perspiration under his armpits dripped down to his elbows. “Jake, we need to get moving. There are some forces at work that can’t be held at bay forever.”
Jake nodded.
“Wei Ling, Jake needs to ask you a serious question. As a representative of the U.S. State Department, I assure you that you can answer freely. Either way, I am here to help you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Jake moved closer to Wei Ling and put his hand on the arm of her wheelchair. “Wei Ling. If you want, I would like to take you back to Washington, D.C. I will make sure you receive medical care from the best doctors.”
“Can I stay here?”
“Yes, you can,” Tom Foti answered. “If you want, you are welcome to stay here. Or I can arrange for you to go home.”
Wei Ling thought about her parents in Guangzhou. “Why Washington?”
“The chance to save a thousand girls just like you,” Jake answered.
Tears welled up in Wei Ling’s eyes. Her mind played a mini-film of the two years she had been on the island. Five days off in two years. A hundred other girls just like her, locked up with no money, no power, no options.
“Then I will go.” ***
The preparation for departure was short.
“Do you need anything, Wei Ling?” Tom asked as Jake, Wei Ling, Tony, and the Castello brothers prepared to exit the waiting room. Wei Ling refused to sit down in the wheelchair in which she had arrived. She had had enough immobility. Her healing bedsores hurt. Jake held her by one arm, guiding her steps toward the door.
“Can you call my parents?” Wei Ling asked.
“I can do that. What do you want me to tell them?” Tom Foti answered.
“Tell them don’t worry.”
“It’s done.”
Tom Foti watched Wei Ling shuffle out the door. “Hey Jake.”
“Yeah.”
“Say hi to Al for me.”
“Sure. I will. And thank you.”
“Do the right thing,” Tom said, sounding suspiciously like Jake’s homeless counterpart.
“Always,” Jake answered.
Chapter 42
With the eastwardly jet stream pushing the Gulfstream G550 nearly four hundred mph, and the outside temperature at twenty-five below zero, Wei Ling curled up into the reclined seat of the private aircraft. She slipped both hands under her head, something she hadn’t been able to do for weeks, and dreamt the dreams of someone set free. Heavy breaths, followed by drool, followed by a light rhythmic snore.
Jake was buried in medical books, dog-earing pages, taking notes, slapping sticky notes on appropriate pages. He read every passage scrawled in Kate’s handwriting on the cheat sheet she had given him. It was a crash course in pregnancy and neonatal care. Armed with a stethoscope, thermometer, and a blood pressure gauge, it was as close to practicing medicine as he was going to get. A doctor for the day, now complete with a fake diploma.
Jake looked at Wei Ling and felt relieved. Her face had good color, a basic indicator of proper health. At least according to his grandmother. The healthy hue was Jake’s medical ace-in-the-hole. Sure Wei Ling was thin, but she wasn’t play-her-ribs-like-a-xylophone thin. And if her spirit were any indication of her physical well being, the girl would be fine.
Tony, the heavy-hitting bone-breaker, looked at Jake with a hint of respect. A young kid who just went halfway around the world and, only God knows how, managed to pick up a girl who was ill. What had transpired in the airport was beyond Tony’s comprehension. All he knew was that Sorrentino had ordered him and the Castello
