Jin handed the president a contour map. “You can’t understand the Uighurs without factoring in the mountains.” He paused until Lao looked up. “The Pamirs, Karakorams, and Kunlun are higher, but the Tian Shan are geopolitically more significant. They divide the province into two separate regions. Xinjiang’s economic engine is to the north. The south is what generates most of our headaches.”
“Why can’t we win over the Muslims?”
“Would you attend the Bolshoi if Russia banned Peking Opera?”
“Save the hypotheticals for your students.”
“Their answer would be no.”
“How can we assimilate them?”
“There isn’t a workable solution. Beginning in kindergarten they learn that Xinjiang was home to thirty-six kingdoms. They’re proud of their heritage, as well they should be. Their ancestors ran the Great Khan’s bureaucracy. We’ll never get them to recognize that our zŭguó is real and theirs is only a dream. They’ll keep fighting until they establish their mystical anti-state—a Central Asia without borders.”
“They must know that’s impossible.”
“For two millennia it wasn’t. The mountains were high, and the emperor was far away. Technology has condensed the world. But their mindset hasn’t changed.”
“There has to be a way to pacify them.”
“There isn’t. We’ve built them infrastructure, improved their schools, and created jobs. They don’t want any of it. Nothing will ever change in southern Xinjiang.”
“I can’t accept that.”
“Someday you will, Mr. President. Their hatred isn’t reversible.”
The president and General Jiang are about to wind up their meeting.
The anger in Lao’s voice hasn’t softened.
“Where are we with the Silk Road investigation?”
“The bomb residue matches chemicals used in other Uighur attacks. We’ve also identified two of the terrorists.”
“Where are the others hiding?”
“In the mountains.”
“Which ones?”
“They move around.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
“An honest one. They’re constantly moving between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Most recently—”
The one person authorized to interrupt Lao knocks on the door. “Come in, Mei.” She closes the door behind her. “What do you need?”
“A field commander is on the phone.”
“Get his number—”
“He said it’s time sensitive.”
“It better be. Put it through.”
“He asked for the general.”
The president looks at Jiang. “Do you want to speak to him?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll keep it short.”
“All right. Put it through.”
Lao slides his fixed line across the desk. Jiang mostly listens before ending the conversation, “Good. Send me the satellite images.”
He pushes the phone back to the president.
“Why are you smiling, General?”
“There’s been a major development.”
“On the train bombing?”
“That and a whole lot more.”
CHAPTER 22
BRANNIGAN ZIGZAGS ACROSS the lobby.
He’s pivoting around a nurse when he almost hits a veiled woman. Barely clearing her burka, he makes a hard left to avoid a patient on crutches. MIH’s compliance officer is his last obstacle. She comes to a complete stop and lets him pass. He barrels through the front door, races down the outside steps, and blows by Harry Dyer as if he weren’t there. Dyer had to step back to avoid being hit.
“I’m over here, Michael.”
After a second shout, Brannigan stops and turns around. Dyer closes the distance between them. “Hey boss, remember me?”
“Sorry, Harry. I didn’t see you.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Next question.”
“You just answered it.”
Brannigan points at the scenic promontory and heads in that direction. “Let’s go over there. We might as well enjoy the view.”
A half step behind, Harry watches Brannigan limping along. “It’s none of my business, but you shouldn’t be running.”
“You’re right about the first part.”
“If you’re trying to pick a fight—”
“A gimpy wheel is the least of my problems.”
“I’ve never seen you this low.”
“Kylie is so . . . Tomorrow will be better.”
“Because?”
“It can’t be as bad as today.”
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks for the kind words.”
“Have you considered professional help?”
“I tried that after Amy died. The more I talked, the worse I felt.”
“If you won’t see a therapist, what’s the plan?”
“Kylie walking out of the hospital.”
“I pray for that every night. What’s plan B?”
“Working harder on plan A.”
They’re approaching the viewpoint when Harry stops and gets down on one knee. He unties his right shoe and shakes out a large pebble. After redoing his double slipknot, he reverses his stance and tightens the other lace. Brannigan kept walking and reaches the cliff before Harry gets up.
Space along the edge is at a premium and Brannigan settles for a narrow space between an affectionate Western couple and a Chinese woman with her granddaughter. He’s staring at the nothingness below as he compares their lives to his. Wrapping his hands around the railing, he leans over the top bar and thrusts his torso outward. His upper body extends well beyond the crossbar.
The timing is so close it isn’t clear which happens first—the grandmother screaming or Harry locking his arms around Brannigan’s waist. Harry switches grips—trading Brannigan’s midsection for his wrist—and moves him away from the cliff.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To your hotel.”
“Then what?”
“We’re spending the day together.”
“I don’t date married men.”
“Mary will be glad to hear that.”
Brannigan jerks his arm but can’t break loose.
“For your information, I was stretching.”
“Of course you were.”
“What do you think I was doing?”
“This isn’t the time—”
“I’d never do that.”
“You’re under a lot of stress.”
“Let go of me.”
“When you settle down. How was Kylie today?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Is she still in a coma?”
“Never-never land is more like it.”
They reach the first of several metal benches. When Harry releases his grip, Brannigan lowers himself like an old man. His injured ribs ache after he leans against the backrest. He unweights his left side. The pain decreases but doesn’t go away.
“Any other changes?”
“She had a seizure last time I was here.”
“That must’ve been frightening.”
“I thought she was dying.”
“How are her parents coping?”
“Her mother is overwhelmed. The dad is rock solid. He may break down at home, but he’s a tower of strength at the hospital.”
“He sounds like quite a guy.”
“Professionally he’s a huge success. But his personal life is a disaster. Why would he cheat on such a beautiful woman?”
“The same reason other guys do it—New trumps true.”
Brannigan has trouble getting up and accepts Dyer’s hand.
“Have you finished your investigation?”
“I went back to the crime scene. But an MP turned me away. He accused me of contaminating the evidence.”
“What else can you accomplish over here?”
“Other than getting arrested, not much.”
/> “Go to San Francisco. Bring Mary with you.”
“Why would my bride be joining me?”
“For a company-paid vacation.”
Harry snickers, “Why San Francisco?”
“You’re supposed to thank me.”
“What else will I be doing?”
“Investigating Dickie Chang.”
“Guess I was wrong. You two won’t kiss and make up.”
“I have a greater chance of being elected pope.”
“Are we going balls to the wall?”
“Not yet.”
“Let’s discuss sources and methods.”
“Don’t talk to Dickie, employees, or clients.”
“Anything else?”
“Use as few helpers as possible.”
“Moscow Rules?”
“The Papa Joe version.”
“What do you want me to check out?”
“Everything. Like he was running for president.”
“What do you think we’ll uncover?”
“Dunno. But there’s something wrong with him.”
“Can you narrow it down?”
Brannigan shakes his head. “I really can’t.”
“Does he have health problems?”
“I doubt it. His physicals have been clean.”
Harry has been encrypting a new file as they talk. “What do you think caused him to change?”
“It’s hard to distinguish cause from effect.”
“What’s the net result?”
“He’s lost his schwerve.”
“Some guys never get it back.”
“In that case, he’s toast.”
“Can I bird-dog him?”
“As long as he doesn’t—”
“He won’t.”
“What else do you recommend?”
“Hiring a forensic accountant.”
Brannigan acts surprised. “Do we need one?”
“His hand may be in the cookie jar.”
“Wouldn’t that be a bitch? Go for it.”
“You said his mother was sick.”
“He never mentioned the details.”
“Is there anything else I should run down?”
“That weird deal on the train.”
“Are you sure the bomber mentioned his name?”
“I haven’t misremembered anything else.”
“This is different. You were already angry with him.”
“Am I’m being too tough on him?”
Harry shrugs. “Possibly.”
Brannigan’s phone is vibrating. He taps the accept and speakerphone buttons. “Thanks for calling back, Dickie.”
“Are you feeling better?”
“Much. Can you hear me okay? I’m on hands-free.”
“It sounds like you’re outside.”
“I am. Hold on. I’ll dig out my earpiece.”
“Don’t bother. This is fine.”
“What’s new in California?”
“Nothing. But we’re busy.”
“What have you been up to?”
“Doing our financials and staffing new projects.”
“That reminds me. We need to reorganize our Xinjiang team.”
“Good timing. The Chinese asked about that.”
“Make sure they waive the delay clause.”
“They won’t hit us with any penalties.”
“I want it in writing.”
“I’ll fly to Beijing this week and nail it down.”
“Thanks. Give Lily my best.”
“What was that?”
“Your wife. Tell her I said hello.”
“Certainly.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
“Back to normal.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Brannigan is waiting for Chang’s standard conversation-ender. He delivers it verbatim. “A client is ringing my other line.”
“Take the call. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Harry laughs out loud when Brannigan hangs up.
“What’s so funny, wise guy?”
“Dickie flying to Beijing.”
“Don’t give him too much credit. He should already be there.”
“He must’ve read your mind.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He was in Beijing yesterday morning.”
“No way.”
“I saw him in the Four Seasons lobby.”
“Did you speak with him?”
“I tried, but a woman got there first.”
“Who was she?”
“Don’t know.”
“You’ve met his wife.”
“It definitely wasn’t her.”
“What did she look like?”
“Real-deal Chinese, not ABC.”
“Age?”
“Much younger.”
“A decade?”
“A full generation. Maybe more.”
“She may be a former student.”
“Whoever she is, they’re more than friends.”
“How do you know?”
“Her tongue was halfway down his throat.”
CHAPTER 23
GLOBAL’S ANNUAL MEETING ended this afternoon.
The company’s top people were all here. They came from all corners of the world to attend the New York City extravaganza. Brannigan presided over the major events and was tired after two days of nonstop activity and late-night entertainment. He planned to spend a quiet evening in his Park Avenue condo. That was before Harry Dyer called. He had something important to discuss.
Dyer didn’t attend today’s sessions. He was busy pursuing leads on his Chang investigation. Brannigan assumes the gumshoe work paid off. Harry wouldn’t bother him on a Sunday evening to discuss routine business. He led Dyer into the living room. After apologizing for the mess—plans, specifications, and engineering journals are stacked along the walls—Brannigan ducked into his kitchen. Harry sifted through the magazine rack and took out the latest edition of The Atlantic. He’s sitting on the least cluttered sofa reading “The Balkanization of America.”
Harry is still wearing a coat and tie. Brannigan changed clothes when he got home. He traded his suit for straight-legged jeans and a Giants Super Bowl XLVI T-shirt. He couldn’t think of a good reason to put on socks or shoes. The creaking floor heralds his return. He lays a snack tray on the coffee table and hands Harry his drink.
“Black Label, the way you like it.”
“Sorry to disturb you, Michael.”
“It goes with the territory.”
Dyer is admiring the closest of the antique Persian rugs. He rubs his palm against the silk pile then flips the corner to look at the reverse side.
“Where did you get this?”
Brannigan sits down at the other end of the sofa.
“Probably from an interior decorator.”
“Didn’t you pick it out?”
“The entire room is my sister’s handiwork.”
“It’s a major improvement.”
“If you say so.”
“Weren’t you involved?”
“I told her not to do it.”
“And Lindy did it anyway?”
“My sister doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“When did she do it?”
“During our China trip.”
“You must’ve been surprised when you got back.”
“Not really. She’s been threatening to spruce up my condo for years.”
“Why’d she bother? You never have anyone over.”
“It’s part of her grand plan for me.”
“What’s she hoping you’ll do?”
“Rejoin the land of the living.”
Brannigan preferred his Greenwich Village townhouse.
But living there became unbearable after Amy died. When his wife left, he listed it for sale and put everything in storage. The reminders of his marriage and fatherhood are still collecting dust. He avoids Amy’s favorite spot altogether. Passing throug
h that part of Manhattan, he cuts a wide swath around the streets bordering Washington Square Park. The three of them spent so much time there. He still breaks down when he remembers how happy they were.
He felt alive again during the Silk Road trip. Now his despair is darker than ever. He shakes his head when he thinks about the failures in his life. If he didn’t have bad luck with females he wouldn’t have any luck at all. He’s been a Jonah to all of them. His mother has advanced Alzheimer’s; he was too busy to prevent Amy from drowning; he drove his wife away; and he was thirty feet short of saving Kylie. He is finished with the stronger sex. Pouring all his energy into Global is far less painful.
Harry opens his document bag.
“Sorry about the hour.”
“So am I. It means you have bad news.”
“You seem distracted.”
“A little bit. But you’re going to change that.”
“I’m offering a money-back guarantee.”
“This must be about Dickie.”
“Your professor is a dangerous guy.”
“I’ll buy lazy and self-absorbed. Dangerous is a tough sell.”
“Scratch the lazy part. If Dickie is interested in something, he has plenty of energy. There’s one other thing on the positive side. He doesn’t have a drug, alcohol, or gambling problem.”
“How about financial shenanigans?”
“The green eyeshades just got going. Nothing major so far.”
“Tell me about the women.”
“You know his wife.”
“Lily will never forgive him.”
“A neighbor said she’s out for blood.”
“This isn’t the first time he strayed. Who’s his girlfriend?”
“Qin Fong.”
“What’s her bio?”
“She’s a novelist and landscape painter.”
“Does she have a website?”
“It’s very slick.”
“How about her work—is it any good?”
“Her talents go well beyond the bedroom.”
“Chinese national?”
“Born and raised in Beijing.”
“How old?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, but tell me anyway.”
“She’s young enough to be his daughter.”
“Attachments?”
“None. Single, never married, no children.”
“Are they hiding their relationship?”
“Only in the Bay Area. They go out together when he’s in China. They’ve also done a lot of traveling together. Paris, London, Lake Como—should I keep going?”
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