Must Come Down

by Brett Baker

  12

  Chapter 12

  Half the morning remained, and Buster had already walked past the conference room at least a dozen times. Wenzao and his men seemed to have completely taken care of the situation, but paranoia still consumed Buster. He made excuses to walk around the office, and always found his way to the conference room. He studied the faces of his employees for looks of concern or dismay, but saw nothing. Just before ten o’clock he called an impromptu meeting in the conference room with seven other people. He preferred someone notice what happened sooner rather than later, if they noticed at all. The apprehension had become too much to bear.

  Thirty minutes later, after discussing topics already settled, and asking for opinions from people to whom he rarely listened, Buster adjourned the meeting. He asked a man and a woman to stay behind to discuss another matter with him, and the three of them stood in the exact spot where Li’s body lay twelve hours earlier.

  While he listened, Buster looked down at the carpet, hoping that the other two would follow his lead. He dragged his foot back and forth in front of him as if smoothing a pile of dirt. After he ran out of things to say he dismissed them. He watched them walk out of the room, and finally felt satisfied that no one would notice the room had been disturbed.

  Buster hadn’t slept at all while he waited for Wenzao and his men to do their thing, and he felt such relief that the changes had gone undetected, that he wanted to collapse. He sat in his chair and thought he’d fall asleep right away, his head crashing into his desk. He’d never felt so tired.

  He told his secretary he had to leave for the rest of the day for meetings in Luojiang, and then drove to his apartment. Since he arrived in China he had taken little time to relax, and never spent a weekday at home. So when he walked into his apartment, his girlfriend, Alice, let out a shriek.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked after recognizing Buster wasn’t a burglar.

  “I need some rest,” he said. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, and I’ve got nothing going on today, so I figured I’d come home and relax.”

  “Are you okay?” Alice asked. She walked toward Buster, her deep concern evident on her face. She grabbed him by the hand and led him to the living room. “Here, sit down. Can I get you something?”

  “I just need some rest,” Buster said. “I’m going to bed for a couple of hours. If I’m not awake by three o’clock, wake me up.”

  “That’s almost four hours from now. What’s going on Buster?”

  “I just told you.”

  “You’ve never come home during the day. And I’ve seen you walk out of here after staying up all night more times than I can count. What’s different about this? Are you sick?”

  “Maybe I’m just getting old,” Buster said. “Really, I’m fine. If I had things to take care of at work, I would have stayed. I’ve got nothing planned though, so I came home.”

  “Oh no,” Alice said, covering her mouth and sitting down on the arm of the couch. “What’s happening at work? Is it collapsing? Are you in trouble?”

  Buster laughed, walked over to Alice, and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her on the lips, and then held her face in his hands. “Nothing’s wrong at work. I’m tired. I need a nap. End of story.”

  Buster left Alice on the arm of the couch, still skeptical of his reason for being home. He spread out on top of his bed, closed his eyes, and fell asleep seconds later.

  13

  Chapter 13

  He woke up just before Alice had planned to wake him, refreshed. He’d never required much sleep, so he didn’t need more than a brief, mid-day nap.

  Alice hadn’t moved far. Instead of sitting on the arm of the couch, she’d transitioned to sitting on the cushion, but leaned over the arm, looking down the hall toward the bedroom she shared with Buster. As soon as he opened the bedroom door he could see her concern. He greeted her with a smile.

  “That’s what I needed,” he said, kissing her forehead. He sat next to her on the couch, and could feel her eyes following him. “There’s nothing to worry about, Alice. In fact, I’m going to go back to the office right now. So that should make you feel better. That’s normal Buster behavior, no?”

  Alice didn’t respond.

  “I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

  Minutes later he left. Alice still sat on the couch.

  He didn’t mind telling Alice the small lie—that he was going back to the office—because he intended to protect her, not deceive her. If he told her the truth—that he was going to Yuzhan Li’s home—she would begin asking questions, and Buster did know where that might lead. He didn’t want to disclose more than he intended, and if she found out too much she’d be faced with the decision of whether to turn him in to the authorities or become an accomplice to the crime. He didn’t want to put her in that position. Ignorance is bliss, he reassured himself.

  Forty-five minutes outside of Quanzhou, near the Fushanyao residential district, Buster spotted the row of warehouses to which Li often referred. When their plan had been in its infancy, Li suggested that the warehouses might work perfectly for what they needed. They were near a large city, but in the countryside, and he lived just behind them, and he knew the locals well enough that he could construct a security team to guard the warehouse. Buster had considered the idea, but decided on a safer, more centrally-located facility. Fushanyao’s absence of a rail line also worked against it.

  Still, Li sang the praises of his neighborhood, and in happier, more trusting times, had invited Buster to visit him at home. Buster had declined, both because he wanted to keep his relationship with Li on a professional level, and also because he didn’t want to trek so far out of the city just to spend time with an underling.

  When Buster found the warehouses and saw the chaotic arrangement of hovels that stretched out behind them he stopped his car in disbelief. Li lived in this shanty town? The man on whom Buster had relied on so much when formulating the plan lived in a poor ghetto of lean-to shacks built from scrounged surplus building material?

  Buster thought he had the wrong place. It didn’t make sense that someone whose living conditions implied extreme poverty could help develop such a sophisticated plan.

  But Li always talked about the warehouses. He described their location and appearance in detail, and emphasized that he lived in the neighborhood behind them. Buster knew he’d found the area Li described.

  However, he wished that he had visited Li. The chances of finding his home seemed slim. Buster hoped to find some clues as to what Li planned to do, but he also wanted someone to see him looking for Li. Since Li would be missed eventually, Buster hoped that coming to look for him would provide safe cover in the future. If investigators tracked Li to Buster’s office, he could claim that they met, and that Li left for New York. He’d tell them he came to his home to search for documents that might reveal Li’s plans, but he had no idea what happened to him after leaving his office.

  Buster had considered denying that he saw Li that night, but if evidence to the contrary arose then suspicion would surround Buster.

  Buster hoped to find details of Li’s plan in his home. But the idea that he made any elaborate plans in such an environment was entirely incongruous.

  He followed the narrow road that twisted and curved around and in between the shacks, until he found an open space to park. Tucked in between two other buildings, Buster assumed that a home had once occupied the space, and he half-expected someone to tell him he couldn’t park there. But when he exited the vehicle and stood near the door for a couple of minutes no one paid any attention to him.

  Since he didn’t know where Li lived, he’d have to ask around to see if anyone could point him in the right direction. If he ran into someone who knew Li he would mention his meeting with Li, and that Li left for New York. Doing so would help reinforce his story.

  Despite living in China for so many years, Buster didn’t feel confident about his Chinese language abilities. Whenever
someone asked him how well he spoke Chinese, he always joked that he spoke it well enough to be understood, but poorly enough to have to repeat himself. In truth, he spoke it so well that few native speakers realized he was a non-native speaker.

  Buster stood by his car for a few minutes before a young man in his late teens approached him, and asked him in Chinese, “Are you lost, mister?”

  “Sort of,” Buster replied. “I know I’m in the right neighborhood, but I don’t know where my associate Yuzhan Li lives.”

  “If he wanted you to know where he lives, wouldn’t he have told you?” the young man asked.

  Buster waved one finger at the man, as if admonishing him. “That’s a good point. However, Mr. Li has skipped town with some information very important to me, so it’s not surprising that he’d keep his exact location a secret. I know he lives here though. And if you can just point me in the right direction, I’d really appreciate it.” Buster waited for the young man to speak, but instead he just returned a blank stare. “So can you help me?”

  “Help you what?” the young man asked.

  “Find Yuzhan Li’s home.”

  “I have no reason to help you.” The young man smiled at Buster, who recognized his point right away.

  Buster reached into his pocket and handed the young man a 100 yuan note. “This will be enough of a reason?” he asked.

  The young man smiled, and began to walk away before looking back and waving over his shoulder. Buster followed.

  They walked down a lane walled on both sides by shacks that looked so unsteady that they might collapse at any moment. The young man led Buster between houses, across streets, around obstacles, and through empty lots. After countless twists and turns Buster had no idea which direction he faced. He worried that the young man intended to get him lost and rob him, or worse.

  After walking for fifteen minutes, the young man stopped at the front door of a yellow shack. As he knocked, Buster felt a sick feeling in his stomach. He’d begun to worry about being attacked so much that he’d forgotten about finding Li’s house. He worried that someone from Li’s family or a friend would take one look at him, recognize the guilt in his eyes, and bring him down. He had no idea what he’d say if confronted by Li’s relatives. He cursed himself for not establishing more of a personal relationship with Li, so that he’d at least know with whom he lived.

  A woman about the same age as Buster’s neighborhood tour guide answered the door. She wiped her hands on an apron she wore, having just come from the kitchen. When she saw the young man standing in front of her she smiled and threw her arms around him. They exchanged pleasantries, and Buster imagined a budding romance between the two of them.

  The young man wasted no time explaining the reason for his visit. “My friend here is looking for Yuzhan Li’s house. Do you know him?”

  Buster interrupted the man before the woman could respond. “Wait, you don’t even know Li? Why am I paying you?”

  “I’m the man that can get answers even if I don’t know the answers. Just because I don’t know Li doesn’t mean I can’t take you to his house. However, I see your point. If you’d like, I’ll give you this money back and I’ll just tell Xiaoren not to answer my question. You can be on your way and we’ll pretend like this never happened.”

  “How about I just give the money to Xiaoren?” Buster asked. “She’s has the information, so she should get the money.”

  “Yes, but she will not answer your questions unless I tell her to. You can give her all the money you want, but it will be pointless if I tell her not to talk.” The young man turned his attention to the girl. “Xiaoren is a good girl. That’s why I like her.” Xiaoren reached out and held the young man’s hand.

  Buster looked at the two of them, and expected the girl to ask for money, as well. He wanted to find Li’s house and he would have spent a lot more money to do so, but he didn’t want to look desperate. He tried to seem casual. “You keep the money. That’s fine. It’s gone. I don’t even miss it.” Then he addressed the girl. “Is your friend right? Are you the one that can help me find Li’s house?”

  The girl looked over her shoulder and yelled something back into the house, threw the towel, and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

  “I saw Li yesterday,” the girl said. “He lives here.”

  “Where?” Buster asked. “Right here? With you?”

  “No, not with me. This way.”

  The three of them walked back in the direction from which they’d just come, but after a few twists and turns it seemed to Buster that they’d entered a different area. Although the shanties looked newer and in slightly better condition, the roads were much smaller, at times barely wide enough for the three of them to pass side-by-side. They came to a dead end, with a narrow walkway that passed between two of the structures.

  “Back there, around the corner,” Xiaoren said. “First door on the right. Actually, the only door back there. It’s behind these houses.”

  “Are you coming back there with me?” Buster asked.

  “That’s not necessary,” the girl said. “I showed you where it is. Now you do what you have to do.”

  “We’ll go. You can find your way back?” the young man asked.

  Buster started to answer, but the young man interrupted. “Yes, you can find your way back.” He grabbed the girl by the hand and before Buster knew what happened, the two of them disappeared among the houses.

  Buster felt a bit of apprehension walking behind the row of houses by himself, but since he had no idea what he was looking for, or what he’d do when he found it, he preferred hunting for Li’s home alone.

  He found the first door on the right, and knocked. When no one answered, he put his ear up to the door, but heard nothing. The makeshift door hung from ill-fitting hinges that left a gap between the door and the frame. Buster peered through the gap and could only see a small sliver of light that came through a narrow, dirt-covered window along the wall.

  He looked around in every direction, but saw no one else. He knocked three more times—hard raps that hurt his knuckles—but, as expected, no one answered. Much to his surprise, when he turned the doorknob it opened, and he pulled the door toward him. One last look around to make sure no one saw him enter, and then he ducked beneath the low doorway and went inside.

  His eyes required a full minute to adjust to the darkness, but then he noticed a lamp on a table in the corner. He turned the key on the lamp and it illuminated the small room.

  Buster had never seen a more depressing, rundown room in his life. Splintered plywood lined the floor and the walls. A bed, tucked into one corner and covered with a single brown blanket, looked uninviting. Opposite the bed, a washtub with dirt rings around the inside implied use, but not cleanliness. In the middle of the room a small round table and two chairs divided the room into quadrants.

  At the center of the table, beneath a small boulder that acted as a paperweight, sat a stack of papers. Buster picked up the boulder and examined the top sheet, a spreadsheet with twelve columns and twice as many rows. None of the labels seemed important to Buster. Each column header listed a month of the year, and a generic Chinese first name headed each row.

  Another sheet showed line graphs and bar graphs without any description. Buster dug through the pile of paper and saw nothing familiar. Although Buster doubted that Li would have left important documents in such an unsecure location, he hoped that Li might have forgotten something. Perhaps outdated information that would at least point him in the right direction, or a list of contacts that Buster might recognize, or some other document that would reveal just how much Li knew.

  Instead he found nothing of use.

  He walked over to the narrow window and looked out. A shack less than ten feet away blocked the view. Buster looked back at the room and again marveled that through the magic of hard work and a good idea, Li pulled himself up from a meager existence to enormous wealth and influence.

  As he left the
shack, disappointed that he didn’t find any relevant documents, but pleased that someone saw him looking for Li, Buster almost felt bad for preventing Li from following through on his plan.

  Almost.

  14

  Chapter 14

  While Randy steered the boat in the general direction of the shore, Mia scoured the wheelhouse for information. Randy claimed to know nothing about the pirates, so she hoped to find something about them on their boat. She deduced that they’d rented the boat. A rental contract indicated they’d had it for three days, and also that two crew members from the rental company operated the craft. Mia saw no sign of them when the pirates boarded, so she assumed they were dead. She didn’t have to disable the radio, as it had already been destroyed.

  They churned through the waters for three hours before Mia saw the helicopter in the distance. It seemed to zero in on them, as if they were its intended destination. She pointed out the craft to Randy, who worried right away. But the swift directness of its flight told Mia everything that she needed to know.

  The cavalry had arrived.

  “It’s best if we go out on the deck and wait for them,” Mia said.

  “How do you know that?” Randy asked. “Wait for who? Shouldn’t we see who it is before we go out there. I see no need to provide them with an easier target.”

  “Let’s go,” Mia said, ignoring Randy’s objections.

  “I’m staying here.”

  “I’m leaving and you’re coming with me,” Mia said. “Come on.”

  They walked onto the deck, toward the bow of the ship. Randy watched Mia, looking for some clue as to whether he should be worried or relieved, but instead just felt confused. He shifted between feeling like he should wave his hands and feeling like he should duck for cover.