Several long seconds passed. “OK.”
“How soon can you have it?”
“This is the FBI, junior,” said Williams. “Not the 1-hour photo.”
“Can’t you say it’s a matter of national security?”
“Is it?”
“Isn’t everything these days?”
“You got a point,” said Williams. “When can you bring it in?”
“I can’t,” replied Cape. “Can you pick it up?”
“Jee-zus, you are high maintenance.” Cape heard Williams cupping the phone, muffled voices in the background. “Where are you?”
Cape gave him directions to the nearest corner.
“OK, look for a blue Honda.”
“The FBI drives a Honda?”
“We might be on a budget, but we’re not stupid,” said Williams. “If you don’t drive an import in California, everyone thinks you’re a cop.”
“Sneaky.”
“That’s the idea.”
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“My prints are on this thing, too.”
“No problem, you’d be in the files ’cause of your license.” Williams held the phone away from his mouth again and shouted to someone in another room, then came back on. “Never mind-my man in the car will have a kit-stick your hand through the window, he’ll take your prints. It’ll save us time.”
“Thanks.”
“If this pans out, we’re even.”
“You’ll call me either way?”
“Sure,” said Williams. “Give me your number.”
Fifteen minutes later the car pulled quietly up to the curb next to a hydrant and cut its lights. Cape reached through the window and dropped the button into a plastic bag the driver held open, then extended the fingers of his right hand and felt them rolled across an ink pad one at a time. The whole exchange took less than two minutes.
Cape walked back up the block and turned down the alley. He had gone less than ten feet when he sensed someone behind him. Pivoting on his left foot, he raised his left elbow high and spun around, just as he felt an electric jolt across his shoulders. His body twisted backward as the muscles in his neck started to spasm, black spots appearing at the edge of his vision. He felt the breath leave his lungs as his momentum completed his turn, bringing him face to face with a man with a jagged scar cutting across his right eye and down his cheek.
Xan smiled, the scar dancing in celebration, as Cape felt the ground fall out from under him and saw the lights at the end of the street go out one by one.
Chapter Fifty
The driver’s license spun like a leaf as it fell, tapping sounds chasing after it as the plastic edge ricocheted off the rungs of the ladder.
The guard nearest the tunnel turned as the card hit the stone floor. Bending down, he saw there was a note wrapped around it, Chinese characters drawn in short bold strokes. He quickly stepped across the room and dropped the license onto the desk, then bowed and returned to his position at the bottom of the ladder.
The first thing Sally saw as Dong unwrapped the note was Cape’s picture on the license.
“Ta ma de,” muttered Sally. Oh shit.
“That doesn’t even look like him,” said Dong, taking the license. “How does the Department of Motor Vehicles do that? You know, in Hong Kong-”
“Dong.” Sally’s voice was full of warning. “What does the note say?”
Dong read aloud. “‘Bring the heart.’”
“That’s it?”
“It gives a location-Buddha’s Universal Church.”
“Just a few blocks from here, on Washington.”
“At this hour, the church will be deserted,” said Dong miserably. “Yan has set a trap, and your friend is the bait.” He blew out his cheeks as he handed the note out to Sally.
Sally’s eyes grew wide as she looked at the slip of paper.
“Yan didn’t write this note.”
“How do you know?” Dong reached for the note but stopped when he saw the grim expression on Sally’s face. When she looked up, her eyes were hard and her voice flat.
“I recognize the handwriting.”
Chapter Fifty-one
Harold Yan looked worried.
“Drink this,” he said as he handed a mug to Lin. “It tastes bitter, but it will help the healing process.”
“Mh goi.” Lin winced as she extended her arms but nodded her thanks.
“That shoulder looks bad,” muttered Yan. “You didn’t go to a hospital?”
“No,” said Lin.
“Smart girl,” said Yan approvingly. “The hospital has to report gunshot wounds to the police.”
Lin nodded as she blew into her mug, the steam making her eyes water. “The bullet passed right through.”
“You’re very brave.”
Lin forced a smile before sipping tentatively. He was right, the drink tasted awful. She hated this, sitting in Yan’s house, the front room that doubled as a home office, trying to explain herself without telling him what really happened. She didn’t even know Yan, beyond what she’d been told. A true friend, someone we can trust. She tried to think of someone she could really trust and came up empty, save for a dead sister she only remembered from pictures.
Yan looked nice enough, professional, well-mannered. Comparing him to men she’d known, he seemed more like the Dragon Head or a businessman than the thugs and killers she usually hunted. Not anything like the sze kau pigs on the ship. He already asked her about that, something in his voice warning her to stretch the truth. She said someone tried to steal the heart-that shut him up, got Yan saying wait one minute, then going to the next room for tea. Lin suspected he didn’t care about the women and children in the hold any more than the crew, so there was no point trying to explain. Lin knew how to follow orders-she’d made the trip, didn’t she? — but how she completed an assignment was up to her.
“I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind,” said Yan pleasantly. “I’ll keep it short tonight-I know you’re still weak.”
Lin nodded, clenching her jaw. She was weak, a feeling new to her. She’d never been injured this badly in all her years of service, but now she could barely stand without seeing spots. Yan had her sitting in a high-backed chair with wooden arms, something she could hold onto as she drank her tea. Her shoulder burned, the bandages still wet with blood. It had taken her almost two hours to find this house, on the border of Chinatown and North Beach, an old two-story Victorian in the middle of a short, twisted road that was more alley than street. She never could have found it that first night, half dead and soaking wet. If Sally hadn’t been home, Lin knew she’d be dead.
But then she woke up underground, betrayed. One-eyed Dong had been exiled, a price on his head. Sally hadn’t left the society, after all-she must be part of the conspiracy to steal the heart. Lin cursed her lack of strength, unable to risk anything except running away. But at least she was alive and free, able to tell Yan where it was.
Now they just had to get it.
Yan stepped around his desk and sat on its edge, only a few feet in front of her.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked idly. “What did the Dragon Head tell you?”
“Lung tau gave me the heart,” Lin began.
“But you knew he would tell people you stole it?”
Lin nodded. “He explained there are traitors within our society, planning to steal the heart and kill him.”
“But he couldn’t hide it.”
“No,” said Lin, shaking her head emphatically. “If he moved the heart himself, it would be an act of fear, a sign of weakness. His enemies would gain support.”
“So he stole the heart from himself,” said Yan. “Brilliant.”
“He said to tell you everything,” said Lin. “But no one else knows, not even Master Xan.”
“Your…” Yan paused, searching for the word. “Instructor.”
Lin nodded again. “The Dragon Head told Xan there was a situation in China that needed attention, and he requested that Xan send me-to Fuzhou.”