Ridley Pearson - The Risk Agent

“I believe you must be aware two of the cameramen have connections with World Life.”

“The environmental group? Certainly not.”

“Extremists. Militants,” Shen Deshi said. “If they do not work for you, then I trust that I can expect your cooperation in this matter.”

“I-ah…first, Detective-”

“Inspector.”

“It must be understood that neither I nor anyone in this company has any knowledge of, nor control over, the visa status or operations of this freelance film crew.” Marquardt was tempted to call in their chief counsel.

“I must account for each member of the film crew,” Shen Deshi said.

“With all respect, sir, as I was saying-”

“And it must be now. Tonight.”

Marquardt felt his temper flare. “Listen here. Tonight is”-out of the question, he thought-“unlikely,” he said. “Our Director of Communication will be in by ten o’clock Monday morning.”

“This is unacceptable,” the inspector said.

“I repeat: The Berthold Group has no professional affiliation or business relationship with the filmmakers beyond an agreement to grant them access to our offices and construction site.”

“You will please make contact with your communication direction tonight,” Shen Deshi said, misspeaking. Marquardt wasn’t about to correct him. “I wish to speak with the entire crew at once. Please,” he added as an afterthought.

Prick on a stick! Barely able to control himself, Marquardt eked out, “Monday morning at ten o’clock.”

Shen Deshi drew himself out of the chair heavily. He reached into his pocket, withdrew a leather wallet, and carefully passed his business card to Marquardt, both hands extended. Marquardt returned his card in similar fashion.

“If you are able to help me in this matter,” Inspector Shen Deshi said gravely, “your present situation will continue to be overlooked. At least for the time being.”

Marquardt swallowed dryly. Your present situation. The kidnapping.

“We believe one of the cameramen is unaccounted for,” Shen Deshi said.

A member of the American press had gone missing? Was this man hinting at his knowledge of the kidnapping, or could there have been another-a second-abduction? A journalist?

Given what he now knew, Marquardt realized the man was on orders from the highest level of his government. The Chinese would want to get in front of the event before they lost face in the international community. Their unforgiving stance on foreign journalists was well documented. Not a pretty track record.

Christ, there must be heads rolling. Marquardt’s next thought was whether he could leverage this to his advantage.

His hand felt small in the other man’s as they said their goodbyes. But it was the determined, hardened look in his visitor’s eyes that stayed with Marquardt.

This man will stop at nothing.

7:30 P.M.

ZHABEI DISTRICT

SHANGHAI

“The realtor will meet us in thirty minutes,” Grace said, returning her iPhone to her purse.

“I love Shanghai,” Knox said. “You make a call, on Sunday afternoon, no less, and you get a showing two hours later. Entrepreneurship at its best. In the U.S., we’ve become too complacent, too expectant of the good life. Here, everyone still earns it.” His one accomplishment of the day had been walking the crime scene: the backstreet warren from where Danner and Lu Hao had been abducted. Lu Hao had ridden into an ambush, though why he’d turned into the narrow-lane neighborhood in the first place remained unexplained.

“You heard me, yes? Thirty minutes?”

“Yep. You look appropriately slutty, I must say. I, on the other hand, could use a quick makeover.”

Watch your mouth, John Knox.”

“I mean it as a compliment. It’s part of the plan, right?”

Grace was looking past him, across the street. “I spot two possible policemen,” she said.

“The one working the trinket cart and the big guy inside the restaurant over there.”

“Yes.”

“I make the one with the cart as PSB. You?”

“Certainly police of some kind. Yes. We have many such bureaus and ministries here in China.”

“The other, I’m not so sure about.”

“Private security, I think,” she said. “Would other foreign companies have an interest in Lu Hao? Of course they would.”

“So maybe that’s it.”

“I do not know,” she said, still sounding stiff. He was considering nicknaming her “Rosetta Stone.” “The realtor said she would meet us out front.”

“You should hang all over me. You know? Like we’re shopping for a place to…you know. To carry out our torrid affair.”

“Not a problem,” she said.

“Seriously? Is it that easy for you?” He couldn’t imagine this woman acting sexy or slutty. He couldn’t wait.

“Think of it this way: when I am not serious, I will let you know.”

Together they found a shop and Knox bought some dress pants and a pressed shirt. He changed and added his worn clothes to hers in the bag she carried.

“One thing I’m confused about,” he said, studying himself in the shop’s full-length mirror. “After all that education, why join the army instead of returning here and making serious money? And then, why Hong Kong?”

“It is complicated,” she said.

“We make the complication. It doesn’t make us.”

“You may be good at whatever it is you do, Mr. Knox. But you are not much of a philosopher.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Have I offended you?” she asked.

“You would have to work harder than that,” he said.

“Lu Hao has made much trouble for his family. Bad financial dealings. I extended the offer of employment to him in hope of assisting his situation-his family’s situation. The Berthold Group was paying him extremely well. Now, he is in trouble-”

“Which reflects badly on you,” Knox said.

She said nothing for several strides. “As I said: it is complicated.”

Minutes later, they were on the sidewalk in front of Lu’s apartment building.

A young, energetic Chinese woman approached them. She was in her mid-twenties, displaying unbridled enthusiasm and a lot of leg beneath a miniskirt. They introduced themselves. She two-handed them both her business card: SPACE-REAL ESTATE FOR TOMORROW.

The apartment building’s lobby was clean and brightly lit.

“All latest qualities,” the agent said, her English clipped and, at times, broken. “The high-speed Internet, the telephone and the highly technical security. Every residence have hot water and warming and colding of the environment.”

They rode as a group to the fifth floor in the building’s only elevator. The name of the vacant apartment being offered was labeled in Mandarin beside the door: “Five Fawns.”

Knox crossed the small living room and looked out the window to inspect the view. First he saw the man in the restaurant window; then, a complication: the trinket cart was heading toward the apartment building.

Wondering if they’d been made, Knox considered aborting. Instead, he hoped to speed things up and get out of here.

Grace surprised him with a squeal from the bedroom. “Lover!” she called out. “You must come here this instant!”

Knox entered the apartment’s bedroom, a space barely wide enough for the double bed. Grace was bouncing on her knees on the mattress like a five-year-old.

“So soft! You must try this!” she said, patting the mattress.

Knox waited for the agent’s attention to return to Grace and he subtly tapped his watch. Grace’s head went up and down as she bounced: she’d caught his cue.