Stephen Knight - White Tiger

Just the same, Manning cornered Baluyevsky when the Russian returned from whatever mission Lin had sent him on earlier in the day. Baluyevsky didn’t seem to be in much of a mood to chat, but Manning didn’t particularly care. They both answered to the same chain of authority.

“What is it, Manning?” Baluyevsky asked tersely when Manning entered his office. Like the man himself, it wasn’t exactly expressive; to say the room was merely Spartan might have been a drastic overstatement. The Russian’s bulk was so large that his desk looked too small for him, even though it was the same size as the desk in Manning’s own office.

“We need to go over this.” Manning put the list of invitations on Baluyevsky’s desk. “Not just who’s on it, but those who aren’t on it.”

“What do you mean, those who aren’t on it? Ah, you’re worried about the Secret Service, yes?” Baluyevsky smiled broadly, and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “You needn’t worry about them. As far as anyone knows, you are not an entity they would be interested in.”

“It’s not the Secret Service I’m worried about. It’s other folks. Who will be supporting these people?”

“Mr. Lin’s staff, of course.”

“Not what I meant. Who will be supporting Yun, for instance?”

Baluyevsky crossed his arms and laughed.

“You must be joking, Manning. Mr. Yun and Mr. Lin have been friends and allies for decades. If you think that Yun is somehow involved with-”

“Of course not. But someone on his staff? May be.”

The humor drained out of Baluyevsky slowly.

“You think someone on Yun’s staff would pose a threat to Mr. Lin? An interesting idea, but all are vouched for. All have either the approval of Mr. Lin or Mr. Yun. That was something I insisted on in the first place.”

“Don’t get lazy,” Manning advised. “A Chinese killed Lin Dan.”

“Really. And you couldn’t have done it?”

Manning snorted and shook his head.

“Not that way, no.”

“Ignore the sexual aspects,” Baluyevsky said. “If not for those, you could have committed the murder, and left the writing, correct?”

Manning considered it for a moment.

“Perhaps-though I’ve never tried to write Chinese characters in someone’s blood. But I don’t know that much about Lin’s past, so I couldn’t leave the message, from that aspect.”

Baluyevsky cocked his head.

“What do you mean?”

Manning sighed inwardly. Apparently, Lin hadn’t seen it fit to take Baluyevsky into his confidence completely. There were obviously things Lin did not want Baluyevsky to know, and one of those was the linkage between the scrawled message left on Lin Dan’s hotel room wall and Lin’s own past.

“The message must have some sort of relevance for Lin,” Manning said. “Otherwise, it’s a complete non sequitur.”

“Mr. Lin advises me he has no idea what the threat means,” Baluyevsky said. “Do you believe differently?”

Manning shrugged, wondering if he should even worry about trying to cover his tracks in this matter. Baluyevsky should know all about it anyway; how else to plan a defense?

“You’ll need to talk with Lin about that,” Manning said.

“As I’ve told you, I already have. Do you know something I do not?” Baluyevsky demanded.

“Talk to Lin about his past,” Manning recommended. “And do it soon.”

Baluyevsky stared up at Manning from behind his desk. His face was impassive, but Manning was certain the wheels were turning behind the cliff-like facade of his brow.

“If you know something,” he said after a time, “it would be in your best interest to tell me.”

“But apparently, it would not be in Mr. Lin’s. You and he need to discuss this, and leave me out of it. I’m not here to play any political games in this organization, nor am I angling for anything other than the salary that was promised to me. Once this mission is over, I leave. Understand that right now, Alexsey. I don’t want your job.” Manning tapped the list. “And that’s why I’m asking for the other names. If you want my opinion, leaving stones unturned at a time like this isn’t the wisest course of action. But you’re Lin’s security chief, you make that assessment. Me, I’m just going to keep the old man alive, because otherwise, I don’t get paid.”

“You truly are a mercenary,” Baluyevsky said distastefully.

And you’re not, you Russkie piece of shit? Manning wanted to shoot back, but he clamped down on his temper. Arguing over their philosophical differences wasn’t going to make things any better.

“What I am isn’t really important, Baluyevsky. What I do is. You want to start filling in the blanks as far as the supporting characters go, or do I need to do it myself?”

Baluyevsky looked down at the list before him. After a long moment, he nodded.

“I will attend to this, and I will present you with another list of names. From there, perhaps you and I can go over them together.” Baluyevsky hesitated for a moment, then grudgingly added, “You know much more about Chinese culture than I do. Perhaps you can see something I might have missed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Manning agreed.

Lunch was an uneventful part of the day, consisting of a six-inch tuna sandwich on white bread and a large Diet Pepsi from a local Subway. It was made even less memorable by the fact that he ate it at his desk while coordinating the rest of the investigation. Chee Wei had relieved Morales at the Zhu residence, and the rest of the detectives were either conducting follow-up interviews with the hotel staff or canvassing the rest of the immediate vicinity around the Mandarin Oriental, looking for any stray clue that might pop up. Ryker had taken some pleasure in adding Wallace to that detail; the fat cop was loathe to do much in the way of walking, and if this was the only way Ryker could inconvenience him without breaking his face (and getting suspended), then he was happy to do it.

Raymond was still out of commission, and he wouldn’t expect her back for days at the least. With Chee Wei and Morales doing the babysitting routine, there wasn’t a lot else that could be done other than add various bits and pieces to the murder book, none of which were very illuminating nor truly served to move the investigation ahead. As he stuffed the Subway sandwich wrapper into the plastic carry-bag that came with it, he noticed the invitation Manning had left for him on his desk. Ryker tossed the bag into his trash can and picked up the card. He reread it once again; the words were the same, but the meaning remained hidden from him. Why would James Lin want him anywhere near his residence?

And more importantly…would Valerie Lin be there?

Ryker tossed the invitation back onto his desk and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling a creeping, mounting anxiety that he couldn’t get rid of. Too many things were coming together at once-the Lin Dan murder, the ostracism and political pressure in the department-and perhaps most dangerous of all, what was going on between him and Valerie Lin.

And just what the hell is going on between you two, Hal? Ryker asked himself. She just lost her husband, got drunk, and then banged the hell out of you. Chances are damned good she regrets every moment of it now, providing her hangover’s gotten out of the way. What did you expect-to start wearing Danny’s Lin’s bathrobes around that big house in Sea Cliff, like Chee Wei said?

Ryker rubbed his face. It was too ridiculous to even contemplate. He didn’t know much about Valerie Lin, but he did know that high-society women like her rarely took on lowly public servants as their significant others. To even consider that a casual possibility was naive…and stupid. He’d gotten incredibly lucky by circumstance, by being in the right place at the right time-