“It would explain their watching Lu’s apartment,” Knox said. “They’re keeping tabs on you and me because we showed up there. Maybe they think you’re the next Lu Hao and they want to make sure you know they’re due their share.”
“It would be easier to speak with me. No need to follow.”
“Yeah, I know,” Knox said. He didn’t like it either.
She’d already told him about the green motorcycle.
“So they beat the crap out of the Sherpa.”
“Hoping to find Lu Hao.”
“But like us, it’s just an empty warehouse. So they keep an eye on the Sherpa and we come along. By now they know an American has taken out two of them. That makes us persons of interest to them.”
“Or targets.”
Knox moved only slightly and winced with the pain.
“The incentive budget would have increased to account for the Mongolian payment. Your Mr. Danner said it was a recent addition. That money must be accounted for. The Berthold EOY records should account for it.”
“There’s always just asking Marquardt about it.”
“He would not know such details. He is insulated from the particulars. Preston Song, perhaps.”
“Can you talk to Song?”
“I would prefer to see the company financials first. The more I know, the more hard information I have, the more leverage.”
He heard the frustration in her voice.
“Lu’s books,” Knox said.
“Yes. His accounting of the incentives should answer many of our questions. His accounting is currency. Whoever has that information, whoever controls it, has the real power.”
“So, if nothing else, we get it for that reason: to protect it.”
“To keep it from others,” Grace said.
“Works for me.”
“Mr. Marquardt has yet to provide me the end-of-year accounting. I do not know if this is intentional or simply neglect. Perhaps it is significant. Perhaps not.”
“Above my pay grade,” he said, feeling his wound. He wanted sleep. “If I had to bet, Danny got himself a copy of Lu’s payouts within the first week of his covering Lu. It’s how he rolls.”
“So it makes sense for me to do a thorough study of the hard drive’s contents,” Grace said. “I am an expert with such data. But, unfortunately, I’m not finding the data on the hard drive in the first place.”
“We can find somebody to help.”
“Your friend,” she said, disgustedly.
Knox remained motionless to allow the Super Glue to set.
“Did you get beer?”
She returned with two open beers. They drank together.
“I must attempt to engage Preston Song. Also, Mr. Marquardt, if possible.”
“You must take every precaution,” he said.
“Yes. Of course. Off site, if I can manage.”
“We have three known groups we’re dealing with: the Mongolians; Yang’s boys; and this government cop, Shen. That’s a lot of possible eyeballs on you.”
“Understood.”
He liked the way her throat moved as she drank.
He said, “And only one of me watching your entrance and exit. Our best and only real shot at identifying your surveillants.”
“I will arrange off site,” she repeated. “Away from the office. I arrive early, leave late.”
He was going to point out that her earlier mistake had led to the attack in the alley, but she didn’t strike him as a person who wanted or needed such reminders. Still, as he pieced it together, he couldn’t help himself.
“Yang’s men must have overheard your ranting about me taking the GPS from you,” he said.
She looked struck. “I had not considered.”
“Nor I. But that’s why they hit us with force: they knew we had Danny’s GPS.”
“My apartment,” she said.
“There’s something I haven’t mentioned,” he said. “A guy thing. The way Yang Cheng and his bodyguard looked at you at the cocktail party. It wasn’t casual. It was…all-knowing.”
She stared at him. “I do not understand.”
“There’s checking out a woman, and then there’s the X-ray vision thing. The full body scan. The snicker. Boys in the treehouse. These two had seen you.”
“Of course. They were looking at me.”
“Had seen you in…private. Your apartment, I’m thinking.”
She pursed her lips.
“Listen. They were ogling you.”
He saw her shiver.
“We might be able to use that,” Knox said.
Her eyes pleaded for him to stop.
“I need to call Sarge and let him know we’re blown,” Knox said.
“And injured.”
“He can inform Marquardt.”
“I will take care of that when I see him and Preston Song. John, I am sorry for this. It is my fault.”
He didn’t disagree with her. “The assault. After the hurt we put on Yang Cheng’s guys…even though they won’t report it to the police, there’s a good chance the police will hear about it. Way too many eyes in this city. So we can add the police to the list of people to avoid.”
He chugged down half his beer. “Face recognition.” He burped. “Sarge warned me. We need to take care.”
She sipped from the bottle. “When he hears of your injury, Mr. Dulwich will order you back to Hong Kong.”
“So he won’t hear. Besides, I don’t answer to Sarge.”
“We both answer to Mr. Dulwich,” she corrected. “He is our immediate superior.”
“It’s a cultural thing,” he said.
“I believe we will be recalled.”
He scoffed. “Let me ask you this: if they ‘recall’ us, are you going to leave Lu Hao behind?”
She nursed the beer, eyes probing over the curve of the bottle.
“Me neither,” Knox said.
13
12:10 P.M.
TOMORROW SQUARE
SHANGHAI
The White Lotus, located on the twenty-seventh floor of the Marriott Tower in Tomorrow Square, had a dozen private rooms off its central dining room. Each private room had an expansive view of the city. A private waitstaff came and went; only the headwaiter remained in the room, arms behind his back, standing rigidly in the corner.
Allan Marquardt dismissed him. The round table could accommodate ten. Three was somewhat awkward. Preston Song sat slightly closer to Marquardt than to Grace, isolating her from the center of power. A soft forty-something with piggish eyes, Song wore a glorious blue suit, a gold tie pin and a leering look of displeasure.
Grace updated them on the Sherpa’s connection and her possessing Danner’s GPS locations all in an effort to gain the elusive end-of-year accounting.
“From what you’ve told us, you’ve clearly made progress,” Marquardt said. “We’re encouraged by that.”
“I understand you have done well with negotiations,” she said.
“Yes.”
Preston Song studied her distrustfully.
Grace collected her thoughts and sought a professional and confident tone. “In our pursuit of Lu Hao’s accounts, and location, my associate and I have questioned those people on Lu Hao’s route-those receiving incentives. I am afraid none is a candidate for Lu Hao’s kidnapper. During this process, we were made aware of a recent payment added to Lu Hao’s route.” She watched for reaction. Marquardt smirked. Preston Song revealed nothing.
“If we are to be effective, we need to know who these people are, and the purpose of the payment.” She paused, waiting.
Song was too practiced to allow anything to show on his face.
She said, “The first of two payments occurred on or before the tenth of last month,” having gleaned the date from the voice memo on Danner’s GPS.
Song’s eyes were fixed as she imagined him working out what to say.
“My dear girl,” Song said, “as we approach the conclusion of a project the size an
d scope of the Xuan Tower, it is only natural that unforeseen expenses arise.”
“Additional incentives must be paid. Understandable,” she said, knowing then that Song oversaw the payment of incentives for The Berthold Group, and acted as a buffer, protecting Marquardt.
“The point is,” she continued, “these men have taken an active interest in our efforts to find Mr. Lu. Knowing their exact role is crucial. If I may be direct: we need to know if they are friends or enemies. To date, they are behaving much like enemies.”
A knock on the door interrupted her. Song wore an irritable expression as a wave of servers delivered dim sum. Tea was poured. As quickly as the servers arrived, they were gone. The food moved around on a lazy Susan, propelled by Marquardt’s hand. Plates were filled.
“What was the purpose of these payments?” she asked.
Marquardt rested his chopsticks on the small porcelain lift alongside his fork, his appetite apparently gone.
“Your line of questioning is growing impertinent,” Song said.
“This information is central to our task and to our safety,” Grace said. “Extortion? Blackmail? Might it have to do with the documentary being shot? The missing cameraman?”
Marquardt looked up quickly, his eyes piercing. Song never skipped a beat, eating the dim sum before it went cold.
“The first I heard of the matter was a few days ago,” said Marquardt. “I promise you, we have nothing to do with this.”
“And these most recent payments?”
“As Preston has said: end of project stuff. The usual unforeseen complications.” He paused deliberately for a breath. “We have every hope and intention of getting Mr. Lu back safely. With your help, that is. Certain financial matters need to remain confidential. There are millions of dollars at play, as you can well imagine. If these matters had anything to do with Mr. Lu-anything at all-we would not hesitate for a moment to share them with you. Do you understand? We’re not fools. We want the same thing as you do.”
It occurred to her that Lu Hao might have discovered the film crew. He could not resist anything to do with film. His passion was the reason he-and everyone else-was in this mess. He had put his family on the brink of financial ruin because of his passion.
Song said, “This most recent increase to our subcontractor’s invoice was approved and paid out. Nothing more. The reason we hire such subcontractors is so that someone else handles these complications.”
She knew very well why they hired such subcontractors: so their criminal acts of bribery fell onto others. She bit her tongue.
“Very well. Thank you,” she said.
Marquardt said, “Listen, I’m not going to lie to you: Lu Hao’s accounts of the incentives going public could pose difficulties for us. We want and need to recover those records. But let there be no question about it: first and foremost we want to get Mr. Lu and Mr. Danner back safely, as I’ve said. To that end, we are at your disposal.”
“I would appreciate the end-of-year accounts.”
“I do not see how that will help,” Song said, his mouth full of chewed food, his plate held to his lips.
“I asked for this before,” she said to Marquardt.
“Indeed. I would have expected you to have that by now. Preston, I asked Gail to take care of this. What’s the holdup? You’ll look into this for me, yes?”
“Of course.”
Marquardt sounded legitimately put off. Song worked eagerly on the glass of beer. The man shouldn’t have tried for the shao mai. The tips of his chopsticks shook considerably as he pinched the piece of wonton-wrapped pork and slid it between his wet lips. It was the first sign of cracks in his demeanor.
Grace reveled in the moment. Preston Song had no intention of her seeing the EOY accounts-which made her all the more eager to do so. Marquardt, on the other hand, felt like an ally.
12:50 P.M.
CHANGNING DISTRICT
SHANGHAI
Knox awoke with a start and answered the ringing iPhone.
“Yeah?” he said, looking around for Grace. She’d slept on the couch, where a blanket was now folded. No sign of her. It had to be around noon.
“It’s me.” Dulwich.
“Surprise,” Knox said.
“There’s a wet market on the north side of Julu, east of Xiangyang Road. Bring the hard drive. Ten minutes.”
“More like fifty,” Knox said. “I’m nowhere near there. Had to move.”
“We’ll talk. Bring the hard drive.”
“We?” Knox said. But the call was dead.
A light rain discouraged use of the scooter and made finding a taxi difficult. Knox was late before he started. An hour after the call, he walked past the wet market on Julu and stole a glance inside. No Caucasians. He wore the ScotteVest, the stain scrubbed clean from around the small slit in its left side. He kept his right hand on a knife in the pocket.
Entering the market, he circulated down aisles of bubbling plastic tubs containing live eel, catfish, perch, jellyfish, minnows, myriad crustaceans; displays of rabbit, pigeon, chickens and carcasses he could not identify.
The market jogged to the right into another, smaller room unseen from the entrance. It appeared empty until Knox spotted a man looming behind a tank thick with a moving coil of fish. The fish spooked and parted. The man’s face appeared.
Dulwich.
He stepped around into the open.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” Knox confessed. “I thought the reason I’m here is because you couldn’t be?” He felt the sting of dread-had Dulwich set him up all along?
“Don’t worry,” Dulwich said. “Technically, it’s not me.” He patted his chest pocket. He was on an alias passport, but still at great risk.
Knox did worry. If Dulwich had been able to enter China, then why recruit him for the job in the first place? As a fall guy, obviously. Someone expendable. So why would Dulwich enter now, when it seemed the risk was heightened over even a few days earlier?
Dulwich took Knox by the arm and led him into a room farther from the street. Gurgling Styrofoam tubs held soft-shelled turtles, frogs and sea urchins. Knox winced with the tug and Dulwich shot him a suspicious look.
“Pulled a muscle,” Knox said.
Dulwich extended his open hand. “The hard drive.”
Knox hesitated. “Seriously: what are you doing here?”
“The drop is still set for the day after tomorrow. We’ve requested a final proof of life just before the drop. You and the girl will make the drop.”
“That’s fine, but it doesn’t explain your being here,” Knox said.
“Since when do I answer to you?” Dulwich said gruffly.
“Since now.”
“I’m here to help you,” Dulwich said.
“You’re here for the hard drive. But last time I checked, you needed me because you couldn’t enter safely.”
“Who said I’m here safely?” Dulwich said. “‘Desperate times, desperate measures,’ and all that shit. I’m here because of Danny. Because of you.”
Knox wasn’t buying it. “Tell me you’ve got my back.”
“I’ve got your back.”
“The Berthold Group doesn’t want a second copy of Lu Hao’s books out there. That’s why the hard drive interests you. Yes?” Knox considered his own comment. “Are you so convinced the hostages will be killed because Danner’s an American, or because The Berthold Group is more interested in getting Lu Hao’s books back than the hostages?”
“Let’s just say I’m playing percentages,” Dulwich said. “Marquardt seems like the real thing to me, but who knows? These fuckers are in it for the money. Right? Danny is not expendable. Not to me. Not to you. That’s why you’re here. Am I right? What do I know? As to why I risked being here? My boss, Primer, raised the ransom cash for Marquardt. The two-fifty USD. It’s coming into Guangzhou by container ship tomorrow. I’m the courier. Primer will not trust freelancers with that kind of cash. Who put the free in freelance?”
/> “You could have headed straight to Guangzhou,” Knox said.
Dulwich bristled. “Coulda, shoulda. But Danny’s hard drive’s a priority.”
“You got the SIM card I sent?”
Dulwich nodded. “Yeah. Your guy made repeated calls to another pay-as-you-go China Mobile phone. At first, we thought it might be the intellectual fielding those calls.”
“The Mongolians aren’t the kidnappers. They’re on the receiving end of the incentives.”
“Interesting,” Dulwich said.
“Added on late in the game.”
“Well, whatever all that means, the guy taking those calls appears to report daily to someone in Beijing. A Party member? Government? A businessman? Who the fuck knows? But he’s a priority to you and me both.”
“These Mongolians are muscle for some Beijing bureaucrat?”
“Or middlemen for the incentives,” Dulwich proposed.
“That works for me.”
“We’ve been following GPS locators on both phones-the Beijing guy, and the Shanghai phone that apparently reports into him daily.”
Knox thought they were getting closer to the truth of why Dulwich had made the trip.
“You’re tracking them? Nice of you to tell me.”
“I’m telling you now. Right? The Beijing guy is smart enough to turn it off, and leave it off most of the time. Making tracking sporadic. The Shanghai guy, not so smart. You want to meet him?” Dulwich handed Knox his iPhone. “The blue dot. That’s him. He’s up the block from us.”
Knox studied the moving map. “You’ve got a bead on the Mongolian? When exactly were you going to tell me?”
“He came straight here the moment you arrived. I watched the dot cross the city.”
Knox tried to make sense of it. “He must have followed you. Is that possible?”
“You took a cab,” Dulwich stated, as if Knox had committed a crime.
Knox explained, “I was short on time.”
“We know this guy is connected to Beijing, right? You’ve actually helped us out by confirming the level of that connection. He didn’t follow you, Knox. He just headed over here. That tells me this Beijing guy swings a big enough stick to have the Shanghai cabbies looking out for you.”
The Risk Agent Page 16