Lisa See - The Interior

"This isn't finished," David said, then turned to Henry. "Is it?"

"The inspector is right," Henry said. "We should get back to Beijing."

David smiled. Sadly, triumphantly, Hulan wasn't sure which.

"Let's go back to the factory," David repeated.

"There's no reason to do that, Inspector Liu," Henry said. She stared at him. He was a broken man, but she didn't feel sorry for him. As if reading her thoughts, he continued. "I've made some terrible mistakes in my life. One of the worst was underestimating you and Mr. Stark. As you say, we're all tired. Let's go back to Beijing. Once we're there I'll explain everything. You'll have your case, and I suspect you'll be a hero…" He tipped his head and amended, "A heroine."

Hulan passed her good hand over her eyes. They ached and she longed for ice to put on her lids, for a cold drink to refresh her parched throat, for cool sheets to appease her burning skin, and something, anything, to stop the throbbing in her arm.

David pressed his case. "We should secure the records in the computers. They may have already been erased, but I think we should see if they're still there."

Tired, Hulan ordered Lo to turn the car around.

"Please, no!" Henry blurted. "There's no reason to go back."

But whatever sympathy Hulan might have had had been used up in the last hour, and she wordlessly stared out the windshield.

The car turned onto the side road that led to the factory. As they passed the billboards with the gaily rendered Sam amp; His Friends, Henry increased his ranting, his confessions, his pleas to go on to Beijing.

"I was at fault for all of it. I allowed the employees to live and work in bad conditions. This is why I came to China! No one was looking and I thought-I knew-I could get away with it. And that woman? David, remember that woman who jumped off the roof? You were right all along. She was thrown off and I did it. And that reporter and that union-izer? They got what they deserved."

"How could you throw Xiao Yang off the roof when you were in a meeting with me? And why try to frame your old friend Sun?" David asked as Lo stopped at the compound's gate. When the guard came out to see who it was, Lo jerked his thumb toward the backseat. The guard peered in, saw his employer, and quickly retreated inside his kiosk to press the button for the gate. Lo pulled through, drove directly to the Administration Building, and parked between a Lexus and a Mercedes, the drivers of which were nowhere to be seen.

Lo and Hulan opened their doors and got out. Henry looked desperately about him, but there was no place for him to run. David could see some activity around the warehouse. A forklift loaded a pallet of what David presumed were Sam amp; His Friends onto the back of a flatbed truck. But otherwise the large, barren courtyard was deserted as usual, while behind the windowless walls hundreds of women labored on the assembly lines.

"I'm sorry, Henry," David said quietly.

Henry's eyes widened. Then a curtain of utter resignation closed down over his face. "Please," he begged.

David weighed the word. In that single syllable was all of Henry's life. It was an appeal for compassion, forgiveness, and an acceptance of the way things were. "I take full responsibility," Henry added. "Let me take the blame for everything that's happened."

David hardened himself against these words, then answered Henry by opening the door and getting out.

DAVID PUSHED OPEN THE BIG GLASS DOOR OF THE ADMIN-istration Building, and the four of them entered. At the end of the hall they came to the heart of the company, where almost a hundred women dressed in nearly identical business suits sat in their cubicles, staring at computer screens or speaking on phones. David pushed Henry into one of the cubicles. The woman working there looked up startled, then, seeing Henry, stood up in some attempt at attention.

"Open the files, Henry," David ordered.

"I don't know how."

"Then ask her to do it."

Henry started to speak, but only a croak came out. He cleared his throat and said, "Please, Miss, can you look up my personal financial records?"

The young clerk stared at him, perplexed. Then she looked over his shoulder, past the other foreigner to Lo and Hulan. The woman looked sick; the other man, with his thick build and sour expression, was surely a government agent of some sort. The clerk's eyes came back to the owner of the company. "I don't have access to those records, sir," she said softly in English. "I only process our purchase orders from America."

Henry turned to David. "As I said before, this can't be of any help."

David signaled the woman to leave, and she edged out of the cubicle. David motioned for Henry to sit. "Type," David said.

Henry glared at David. "I told you I don't know how to use the damn thing."

"You're telling me that you-an inventor, a businessman, and a financial criminal-don't know how to use a computer?" David asked dubiously. When he spoke next, his tone was much harsher. "Look up the files."

Henry turned to the screen and put his fingers on the keyboard. He exited the program the young woman had been working in, went to the main menu, typed in his password, then his name, and up came a list of files: bio, company history, phone logs, travel, correspondence, but nothing on financial transactions. "Try Sun Gan," David said. Henry obeyed. Of course nothing happened, but David wanted further confirmation of Sun's innocence after having doubted him for so long. For the next ten minutes David ordered Henry to type in a variety of key words- expenses, payments, financials, financial records, bank records, Bank of China, China Industrial Bank, and China Agricultural Bank. Some of these revealed legitimate transactions; others revealed nothing but a blinking cursor or the terse words NOT FOUND. There was nothing that came close to any of the damning financial records that David had in his possession. That didn't mean they still weren't in the computer. A forensic accountant would be able to retrieve erased, encrypted, or hidden data.

David put a hand on Henry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Henry. I know it would have been easier this way." Even in the air conditioning, Henry's shirt had turned damp with nervous sweat. David leaned down and said gently, "Let's finish this."

Without turning, Henry said softly, "I can't."

"You can. You have to."

Henry looked up at David, his face tormented. "Why?" The way the word ripped the air, David knew Henry was asking a fundamentally deeper question than simply responding to David's request.

"That's what we're going to find out. Let's go."

Sensing that something was amiss, the women had stopped working, had stood, and now silently gaped at the group as they threaded their way to one of the other corridors that led from the heart. They passed Sandy Newheart's office, but he wasn't there. They passed the posters of Sam amp; His Friends, each character colorful, harmless, innocent. At last they came to the conference room. The door was closed, but they could hear raised voices inside. Henry glanced at David again, a final plea. But David reached out, turned the knob, and entered the room, where Douglas Knight and Miles Stout sat across from each other at the long rosewood table. The Knight-Tartan contracts lay in sloppy disarray between them. Amy Gao, Governor Sun's assistant, stood against the far wall, looking decorative in chartreuse.

Doug stood. "Dad, thank God. I've been hoping you'd show up. I've got good news. I've told Tartan I'm not selling. We're keeping the company. They can try their hostile takeover, but I've told Miles that I think we can fight them off."

Henry brought his hands to his face and held them there.

"Dad? Are you all right? Here, come sit down."