Выбрать главу

“The two appeared to have reviewed financial statements.”

“Lu Hao’s accounts?”

“In public?” Feng said. “No. Their waitress, Sweet Lips Woo, said it was an expense account, maybe.”

“You paid the waitress? You are a smart man, Feng.”

“It’s what I do.”

“Did you follow the foreigner?”

The question put Feng in a difficult position. If he admitted his man had lost the foreigner, he, Feng, would be held responsible. If he tried to pretend he’d been shorthanded and had not followed, he would be declared incompetent.

“I deemed it more important to stay with the woman,” he said.

“Next time, get your head out of your ass and wipe the shit out of your eyes.”

“But if anyone is to lead us to Lu Hao’s bookkeeping, it is this woman. I have it on good authority she has spoken directly with Marquardt himself.”

“All important. Absolutely. But I want the name and employment situation of the waiguoren. Your job is information. Bring me the information!”

“Yes, sir.”

“You must do better, young man.”

“Of course,” Feng said, having no idea how he might go about finding the man again. “I endeavor to serve your every need.”

“Your needs as well. There’s a bonus in it for you.”

Feng thought there was no more sweet-sounding word. Yang was known to hoard his profits, but he could be generous with his mistresses and held much guanxi with his business partners.

Yang stared out at the Pudong skyline, envious of the Xuan Tower. It stuck in his side like a thorn.

Feng said, “If I might make a suggestion?” Yang Cheng didn’t take kindly to suggestions. This was dangerous territory.

“If you must.”

“Perhaps, if you were to invite the accountant, Chu Youya-the one they call ‘Grace’-to this evening’s festivities? Perhaps encourage her to bring a companion?”

“The waiguoren?”

“If we get lucky.”

“I am always lucky. I was born lucky. Eighth day of eighth month.”

Feng suppressed a gasp. It explained so much about Yang’s ability to amass such a fortune so relatively young. Double eights. What more could any person ask?

“It’s a good suggestion,” Yang said. “A fine suggestion! This is exactly why I pay you so well.”

Feng coughed, keeping his sarcasm at bay.

Yang passed the invitation along to an assistant by phone. When he hung up he said to Feng, “Should she refuse my invitation, perhaps her employer or the PSB would be interested in her contact with this waiguoren. Perhaps she lacks the proper licensing to do such business. I leave the details to you.”

“You are a brilliant and cunning strategist.”

“You will join me tonight. The nineteenth hour. Place two of our men outside number twenty Guangdong Road. At the ready to follow. You will be inside with me.”

Feng’s chest swelled with pride. “My pleasure.”

“This isn’t about pleasure, you fool. Keep your wits about you. It’s about laying a trap. It’s about outwitting the competition. Have you learned nothing?”

“My apologies.”

“Go now. Leave the DVD with me.” He had freeze-framed the naked image of Grace striding across the bedroom. “If you get any more like this, I want to see it.”

“Of course.” Feng suppressed a grin. The bonus couldn’t be far off. Eleven percent in two months, he thought, already doing the calculations.

8:45 A.M.

CHANGNING DISTRICT

Grace had no intention of showing up for work, her full attention on obtaining Lu Hao’s records of bribery. The three days remaining until the ransom drop felt more like three hours. She and Knox had a few sketchy leads: the existence of the Mongolians, their phone records and their Resident Identity Cards. They knew Danner had been held alone. A return to the Sherpa’s driver had found him gone, as they’d expected.

Knox had called to nudge Kozlowski once again about making a connection to the police motorcycle impound, while dropping another leaden hint that he needed the contents of Danner’s laptop.

So they waited, the one thing Grace was not particularly good at.

She was sipping a coffee at a bakery/café, when her phone rang-not the iPhone, but her private mobile. She reached for it tentatively, fearing another battle with her mother.

“Ms. Chu? Hello.” A woman, definitely Chinese. She spoke English. “I am calling for Yang Construction at the request of Yang Cheng, our president and CEO.”

“Yes?” she said politely, her chest suddenly tight. Yang Cheng calling her? On this number? How did he even know about her?

“Mr. Yang invites you, and a guest if you like, to a cocktail reception at the Glamour Bar this evening. Seven P.M. Business casual.”

“I am…flattered,” Grace said. “Honored. But-”

Perhaps anticipating her hesitancy, the woman said, “Mr. Yang like to welcome your return to Shanghai.”

“My return?”

“Y…es. This is Chu Youya?”

“Yes. Exactly so.” They’d done their research.

“Can I put you down for a party of two?”

“Thank you.”

“I apologize for such short notice. Entirely my fault, I assure you.”

“No apology necessary.”

“We would be happy to send a car for you if-”

“No need.” So they wanted to know where she lived as well. “Seven. Business casual?”

“As you wish.”

“See you tonight, then, Ms…”

“Katherine Wu. I so look forward to meeting you,” the woman said. “Should I put you down for plus-one?”

“Yes. I will bring a client with me. Thank you.”

As Grace hung up, a throat cleared behind her. She looked over her shoulder wondering how much Selena Ming, Allan Marquardt’s assistant, had overheard.

An awkward moment, as neither spoke.

“Congratulations on the new apartment,” Selena said.

“A promise is a promise. Certain arrangements were made at the time of my hiring.” Grace knew that only executives of vice president and above were provided such luxury housing. She wondered how this might sit with the other Chinese employees. “Join me?” Grace motioned to an empty chair.

“I could not.”

“Please.”

Selena sat. “It is nice? The apartment?”

“Very nice.” It took Grace a moment to catch on. “Would you like to see it sometime?”

“Oh, please, I do not wish to trouble you.”

“No trouble. In fact, Mr. Marquardt has meant to deliver the EOY-the end-of-year-financials to me. Perhaps you would be so kind as to bring them along?”

“I can check with Mr. Marquardt. But if he clears it, most certainly.”

“Good! Thank you very much.” Grace had hoped to avoid that hurdle, but by putting the request to a third party, it pressured Marquardt to either deliver the accounts or explain to Brian Primer of Rutherford Risk why he would not.

The girl’s face brightened. “Yes. And thank you,” she said. Selena walked off, practically floating.

Grace reread her note about the cocktail party. She needed to reach Knox. Then, a new dress.

10:25 A.M.

HUANGPU DISTRICT

The air was guncotton gray, visibility less than five blocks. Commuters and pedestrians wore surgical masks against the smog.

Kozlowski waited at the entrance to the police impound, a door marked with a small plaque.