Lin stopped talking after a moment. He then looked over his shoulder at Manning.
“Forgive me. I should get to the point. Both of my sons were murdered by some sadist who apparently survived the purges, but who remembers me quite well. This person, or persons, has set about taking their revenge upon me, first by killing my sons...and then, I could only presume, by killing me.”
“And how would you be able to piece this together?” Manning asked.
“Written in Chinese at both murder scenes was No War, No Peace. And it was written in the spilt blood of my sons.”
Manning nodded. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at Lin, who had not turned away.
“Firstly, my condolences on the passing of your sons. Secondly, you said your sons were killed here and in Shanghai?”
“Yes.”
“Have the police been involved in both murders?”
“Of course. In Shanghai, it’s considered a most urgent homicide to solve. It is now considered the same here, in San Francisco. This is why I will need to retain your services.”
“Please tell me more, sir. You want me to ‘liaise’ with the police?”
Lin turned and walked back to the table. He slowly pulled out a chair next to Manning and sat down. He looked at Manning for one long, speculative moment, and then removed his glasses. He tossed them onto the tabletop and rubbed his eyes tiredly. For the first time, Manning became aware of the physical signs of Lin’s stress. His hands trembled slightly, and his eyes were vaguely rheumy, distant.
“I want you to get as close to the police investigation as possible. I want you to review every shred of evidence they have. As soon as they are able to identify the murderer, I want you to know it as soon as they do. And then, I want you to kill the assassin before the police can act. In short, I want you to show the San Francisco police that you are an officious man doing the bidding of his client. And when that work is done, I want you to become the famous Bái Hu I’ve heard so much of.”
Manning nodded slowly. “You don’t want the assassin alive? You’re not interested in finding out if there are more people orchestrating this?”
“When the identity of my son’s murderer or murderers is known, your only mission is to kill them. Immediately, effectively, and mercilessly. After that, you may return to Japan and whatever tasks Chen Gui has waiting for you, and we shall never speak again. But know this: you will kill these people, no matter what the cost.”
“And you’re certain the murderer is still here, in the San Francisco area?”
Lin hesitated, glancing out the window once again.
“Last night, one of my most trusted employees left to fetch the medical examiner’s report of my second son. He took two men with him, both trusted and well-trained. They did not return.”
“I see.” Manning leaned back in his chair and drummed the tabletop absently for a moment. “Mr. Lin. Are you certain that Baluyevsky has the ability to protect you?”
“He has never failed me, and he is well paid for his vigilance.”
“Very well, then. In that case, I’ll need access to your personal schedule, as well as background on all your upcoming business-related and personal travel—I can’t expect the police to show me everything, so I’ll have to get more information to fill in the gaps. If you withhold anything from me, you’ll severely cripple my chances of doing my job.”
“Everything you ask for will be done,” Lin replied instantly. “Everything. And I would like you to start immediately. I’ve already gone through the trouble of having your weapons brought up from the lobby security guards. They’re waiting for you in the office I have arranged for you.”
Well. That didn’t take long, Manning thought.
“Then I’ll get started,” he said. He rose to his feet and nodded to Lin. “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure your personal safety, Mr. Lin. And when it comes time, I’ll guarantee you your revenge.”
CHAPTER 14
The way Wallace paused in the rest room doorway to check whether any of the stalls were in use, and if anyone was outside in the hallway, warned Ryker that this wasn’t a social call. Wallace was a big man in every sense of the word. His fat gut fooled a lot of people, but beneath that flab lay thick muscle spread over a solid frame, which added up to substantial strength and power. Ryker had heard stories about Wallace slapping suspects around to get answers, and he believed them. Not that this made Wallace a bad cop in Ryker’s eyes. Name me a cop who hasn’t leaned on some junkie punk who deserved all they got. What made Wallace a bad cop was his inability to sense where lines existed—to perceive that some rules were etched in stone, never to be bent or broken. The irony of it was, Ryker had no choice but to bend a couple of rules himself in response to what was coming next.
Ryker shook his hands dry and watched Wallace’s reflection as the rest room door swung shut with a soft click. “Ryker, you goddamn pussy. Where the fuck do you get off, reassigning everyone’s caseload?” Straight to the point, no beating about the bush with Cueball.
“I guess you weren’t listening when Lieutenant Furino told you this comes direct from the captain,” Ryker said, taking out his comb and running it through his hair. He had an unsettling feeling that his hairline had retreated slightly since this time last year. He’d need to see an old photo of himself to be absolutely certain, but his suspicions were aroused. Another sign of impending old age, just what he needed. He vowed to suck the barrel of his own gun on his next birthday—unless somebody gave him a really nice present, in which case he wouldn’t.
“You and Spider can dress it up any way you like. You think I don’t know it’s down to you? You son of a bitch.”
Ryker put his comb away. He loosened his tie, slipped it off, tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Maybe I am, but your momma wore Army boots, and your daddy was a bunch of soldiers,” he said. It didn’t matter what reply he gave; Wallace’s stance, his tightly clenched fists and his reddened face had provided all the clues that were needed. This conversation could only end one way, as incredible and as infantile as it seemed. Wallace’s anger and aggression filled the room. All that was missing was steam coming out of his ears.
Wallace grabbed Ryker’s shoulder and pulled, turning him around to set him up for a haymaker. Ryker was pretty sure Wallace would hold back, since he didn’t want to be charged with murder, but that proved academic as Ryker caught Wallace’s wrist and slammed the heel of his hand into the startled cop’s elbow, straightening his arm with an audible pop. Ryker drove the toe of his shoe under Wallace’s right kneecap, gave him a little push under the armpit to totally wreck his balance, then dropped down and swept him off his feet with savage force, far more than was needed. Wallace’s legs pointed at the ceiling and his head and shoulders hit the tiled floor hard enough to shake the building.
Ryker put his tie back on and straightened it in the mirror. He took some toilet paper from a stall dispenser and blew his nose. He dropped the makeshift handkerchief into the trash bin on the way to the door, stepping around Wallace, who lay on the floor curled up like a baby, his useless arm cradled against his chest. “Listen up. You make any more chink jokes when Chee Wei’s around? I’ll tear you a new asshole.” Wallace didn’t reply. Ryker opened the door and went out.
Morales stood waiting for him by the coffee machine, a puzzled look on his face. “What was that noise? Sounded like something really big hit the deck.”
“Cueball’s just taking a dump,” Ryker said. Chee Wei entered the detective room, saw Ryker and headed his way. “You got something?”
Chee Wei offered Ryker a couple of sheets that were paper-clipped together. He recognized the lab header and snatched the sheets out of Chee Wei’s hand. He scanned the report, hoping for something major. Instead he only found disappointment. It was by no means the full criminologist’s report; the sheets only contained the results of Miss Xiaohui Zhu’s swab—semen, positive, Mr. Daniel Lin—and blood tests on her skin and on the clothing she’d worn to the Mandarin
Oriental—negative, no trace. Since these tests were relatively simple they had been rushed through ahead of the others, for which Ryker supposed he should be grateful. But the report shut a door in his face. It suggested that Xiaohui Zhu hadn’t cut off Danny Lin’s dick, nor had she climbed onto the bed or onto him to perpetrate the knife thrust to his heart that had killed him. No spatter, no smear. She was clean.
Morales sipped his coffee. “Doesn’t look like she’s your girl, unless DNA and other tests show up with something radical.” Ryker nodded thoughtfully. Morales headed back to his desk. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since returning from court. Ryker would grab him later and give him the opportunity to get his frustrations out.
“We’re fucked,” Chee Wei said, meaning the report.
“That’s the technical term,” Ryker agreed easily. “How about we have another cozy little chat with Miss Zhu anyway?”
“Suits me fine. What’s the angle?”
“Daddy Lin is the angle. She knew the son. I wonder if she knows the father?”
Chee Wei grinned. “You mean in the Biblical sense?”
Ryker chuckled at the joke to mask his trembling reaction to the close encounter with Wallace in the rest room. Norris, Seagal, Van Damme, Jet Li and the rest made it look easy in the movies, but the amount of adrenalin pumping through Ryker’s system would take time to dissipate. He was glad Morales hadn’t offered him a coffee, he would have spilled the damn thing all over the floor.
They made their way downstairs to the holding pen. Xiaohui Zhu’s room was almost comfortable, with cushions on the benches and a window that couldn’t be opened, but let in natural light and gave an illusion of freedom. After peeking in on her and earning himself a frosty glare, Ryker greeted the veteran sergeant, Hoffer, who manned the desk and kept track of the division’s latest customers. They’d known each other back when Ryker drove a black-and-white. “Hey, Hoff. Where are the donuts?”
“I’m looking at one right now,” Hoffer shot back without hesitation. Chee Wei snorted.
“Everybody’s a comedian. We’re here to see Miss Zhu. The Danny Lin case.”
“Oh yeah, the dick murder.” Hoffer made a chopping motion with his hand. “Hell of a way to go.” He checked his book. “Zah-hoo Soo? Is that how you pronounce it?”
“Close enough,” Chee Wei said, though Ryker knew he could have belabored the point and given Hoffer pronunciation lessons.
“Her lawyer’s on his way down. You want to wait for him?”
“We’ll keep her company until he gets here,” Ryker said, not relishing the prospect of meeting Victor Chen under any circumstances. “Bring her into one of the interview rooms, will you? We’ll have three coffees. And don’t forget the donuts. I know you’re hiding them somewhere. The ones with the pink icing and the sprinkling.”
“Sure thing. You want me to suck your dick too?”
“Now you’re spoiling me.”
They found a vacant interview room and waited while Xiaohui Zhu was brought from her cell by a female cop. Ryker nodded his thanks. Xiaohui’s gaze darted around the room, as if she was surprised to find they were alone. She wore standard issue cotton shirt and pants, and a pair of light sneakers without laces. Her jewelry was missing, of course. Everything that could be used as a potential tool to commit suicide resided in an envelope under lock and key in the store room behind Hoffer’s desk.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Chin is on his way,” Ryker said. “We’ll be talking to him in just a minute. Sit down, Miss Zhu. Make yourself comfortable. As a matter of fact, I was just talking to someone else who knows you. We had a meeting upstairs. James Lin. He says hi.”
A fearful expression passed across Xiaohui’s face. Ryker tried not to loathe himself for what he was doing. Icy bitch or not, she didn’t deserve to be scared. At his invitation she lowered herself into a chair.
Chee Wei stood silently by the door in perfect voyeur’s position, his eyes glued to the woman. If she even noticed him she gave no sign.
“Miss Zhu, I’m going to come right to the point,” Ryker said. “I don’t think you murdered Danny Lin, and the forensic evidence supports this. There was no blood on your clothing or upon your person. And the medical examination confirmed exactly what you told us.” She looked up at him with big eyes filled with relief. “I’m sure Mr. Chin has been giving the D.A. all kinds of hassle to get you released. He’s right, we have no evidence. Right after we talk, I’ll get the paperwork stamped. It shouldn’t take long.”
“If you had listened to me in the first place, I would not have had to suffer the indignity of arrest. My own family thinks I am a criminal! And a woman calling herself a doctor physically assaulted me.”
“For which I apologize,” Ryker said, wondering how many lesbian porno flicks Xiaohui had starred in where much, much worse had been inflicted upon her. “I’ll call your sister if you like, and explain our mistake. It’s the least I can do.”
She hesitated, thinking about that, then shook her head. “There is no need for you to trouble my family further. I will do my own explaining.”
Ryker wasn’t in the least surprised. “Great, but if there’s anything I can do, let me know, won’t you?” She afforded him a curt nod. Ryker looked at his watch, looked at the door, sat down opposite her. “Tell me something, Miss Zhu. Did you ever have any dealings with James Lin? What I mean is, did you ever meet him when you were in Danny Lin’s company?”
“Lin Dan would never have introduced me to his father.”
“Oh, sure. I wasn’t thinking. No, I just wondered if you’d met him, perhaps at a social occasion, even if he didn’t realize you and Danny were seeing each other. It just seems to me, and I hope you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Zhu, that you are an extremely attractive woman. Please don’t be offended. It’s just, well, it strikes me as strange that Danny would hide you away in a hotel room. I can’t imagine doing that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not having some kind of midlife crisis fantasy here. But if I were with you? I’d make damn sure everyone knew about it. I’d be parading you up and down the street. I’d be taking out ads in the paper. That’s not poetic enough. Let me try again. You grow the world’s most beautiful orchid, you don’t keep it in your greenhouse. You take it to the world orchid championships so people can admire it.”
Ryker feared he’d gone too far, that his rhetoric might have alerted her to his deep sea fishing. But she showed no sign of suspicion. If anything, in fact, she seemed more relaxed and at ease, as if she found herself in agreement with what he’d said. Perhaps she’d thought exactly the same things herself whenever Danny Lin invited her to a champagne-and-cum session in the Taipan Suite? Was there ever a hooker in all of history who didn’t imagine herself standing by the side of her sugar daddy, elevated from sordid mistress to respected wife? Ryker was willing to bet hard cash that at some point in their relationship, Xiaohui had lain beside a thoroughly exhausted Danny Lin and whispered sweet nothings into his ear about how he must be crazy to stay with a wife who didn’t understand him, and failed to cater to his every bizarre sexual fantasy, like she did.
Which thought gave rise to recent memories of Valerie Lin, who didn’t look anything like Xiaohui, whose flawless beauty was undeniable. Yet the widow Lin had popped Ryker’s cork just by breathing. Would he feel differently about Xiaohui if he hadn’t met Danny Lin’s wife first? Somehow he doubted that. Some people were just incompatible with each other. He recognized the fact he was absolutely wrong for Xiaohui and she for him. Valerie Lin, on the other hand—
“We did meet,” Xiaohui said. “Just once.” She stared at the table top. “At a reception. For businessmen. From Beijing and Korea.” Her hesitant delivery made Ryker think she was recalling the memories only with difficulty. “Lin Dan’s father thought I was the wife of one of those present. But the wives would not speak to me. Lin Dan realized it was a mistake. Realized the risk he was taking. His father would be angry if he found out. He arranged for me to be taken by taxi to th
e hotel.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Perhaps a month ago. Longer. Six weeks.”
“Here in San Francisco?”
She frowned, puzzled. “No. Shanghai.”
Ryker sensed Chee Wei’s curiosity from across the room but didn’t look at him. “Aside from the businessmen, Miss Zhu, was anyone else there?”
“The senator,” Xiaohui said, as the door opened and Victor Chin entered carrying a leather briefcase. The Chinese lawyer looked from Ryker to Chee Wei, and was not happy.
Ryker stood and said, “Mr. Chin, we were just telling your client she’s no longer a suspect. We have no reason to hold her. I’m going to talk to the desk sergeant, get the paperwork pushed through.”
“And you are?”
“Detective Sergeant Hal Ryker.”
“Ah. We’re going to sue you for wrongful arrest, detective sergeant. Your unforgivable victimization has caused my client considerable distress.”
Ryker had been expecting something of the kind, and was a long way from shocked. “Make sure you invite the press along to the court hearing, Mr. Chin,” he said. “We’ll give them a good story. How Danny Lin flew a high-class hooker in from Shanghai whenever he felt horny. How they both got high as a kite on coke, and she fucked him senseless in a thousand-dollar-a-night hotel suite overlooking San Francisco Bay. How she stars in low budget porno flicks whenever she’s over here, just to earn herself some lipstick money.”
Xiaohui looked shocked; Chin didn’t bat an eyelid. He said, “I think we both know the consequences of such a story ever being released. A certain party would destroy your career.”
“Along with yours. Might be worth it, just to see the look on your face when they tear up your license and run you out of the state.”
“Are you really so insane, detective sergeant?”
“Only when I haven’t had enough coffee. This is one of those moments. Don’t push me, Chin. First and only warning.”
Chin stared at Ryker for a count of five, then his lips twisted into a humorless smile and he said, “I think we might be inclined to drop the lawsuit. Assuming my client is released forthwith and receives no further harassment from the police.”
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