Ridley Pearson - The Risk Agent

Yang Cheng was everything Feng Qi longed to be: rich. Not that a security man could get rich off the salary he was paid, but the stock market was another story. Along with the old toothless geezers in their pajamas, Feng stopped into the public trading rooms whenever possible, buying and selling on rumor and instinct. He was up eleven percent in the past two months. He invested every dime he earned, a good deal of it in Yang Construction.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Yang said. He ran the DVD player, and the four-quadrant screen came alive with security camera images of Grace’s apartment.

“It is interactive. You may select any image at any time.” Feng had no doubt what image his boss would select. He had personally cued the DVD for the occupant’s entrance into the bedroom from the bathroom. The woman was naked. Feng knew on which side his bread was buttered.

Yang Cheng replayed the full screen image several times.

“Oh, my!” Yang Cheng said. “That puts some cayenne in the old stalk!”

“She is very clever, this one,” Feng said. “We see her entrance, but have yet to spot her leaving the MW office building. This, while watching every exit carefully.”

“Disguise?”

“Yes. It is the only explanation.”

“This tells us she is up to no good. Also that she spotted you! You are an idiot!”

“Or she was told by Berthold about the kidnapping and to take no chances.”

“Why her and no other employees?” Yang asked.

Feng looked stumped.

“We must now consider that she is aware of Tragic Lu’s current situation. I imagine Berthold employees are not the happiest right now. This gives me a good idea.”

“One thing of note: she made no attempt to disguise herself for yesterday’s lunch with a waiguoren.” He paused. “Canadian. American, possibly.”

“This I find even more interesting. No. Listen to me…I told you: she is up to no good. Her arrival is no coincidence. Her precautions? She fears the government, of course-the Ministry of State Security. What else? That they are aware of the kidnapping and may be interested in any newcomers. Of course! I knew it! And the fact that she takes such precautions? A windfall. She acknowledges her importance to us. Leading us to the American? She is engaged in the highest form of deception. She is challenging us to take the bait, or let it go. Thankfully our resources are many. We can play both sides to our advantage.” He was excited to the point of arousal.

“The two appeared to have reviewed financial statements.”

“Lu Hao’s accounts?”

“In public?” Feng said. “No. Their waitress, Sweet Lips Woo, said it was an expense account, maybe.”

“You paid the waitress? You are a smart man, Feng.”

“It’s what I do.”

“Did you follow the foreigner?”

The question put Feng in a difficult position. If he admitted his man had lost the foreigner, he, Feng, would be held responsible. If he tried to pretend he’d been shorthanded and had not followed, he would be declared incompetent.

“I deemed it more important to stay with the woman,” he said.

“Next time, get your head out of your ass and wipe the shit out of your eyes.”

“But if anyone is to lead us to Lu Hao’s bookkeeping, it is this woman. I have it on good authority she has spoken directly with Marquardt himself.”

“All important. Absolutely. But I want the name and employment situation of the waiguoren. Your job is information. Bring me the information!”

“Yes, sir.”

“You must do better, young man.”

“Of course,” Feng said, having no idea how he might go about finding the man again. “I endeavor to serve your every need.”

“Your needs as well. There’s a bonus in it for you.”

Feng thought there was no more sweet-sounding word. Yang was known to hoard his profits, but he could be generous with his mistresses and held much guanxi with his business partners.

Yang stared out at the Pudong skyline, envious of the Xuan Tower. It stuck in his side like a thorn.

Feng said, “If I might make a suggestion?” Yang Cheng didn’t take kindly to suggestions. This was dangerous territory.

“If you must.”

“Perhaps, if you were to invite the accountant, Chu Youya-the one they call ‘Grace’-to this evening’s festivities? Perhaps encourage her to bring a companion?”

“The waiguoren?”

“If we get lucky.”

“I am always lucky. I was born lucky. Eighth day of eighth month.”

Feng suppressed a gasp. It explained so much about Yang’s ability to amass such a fortune so relatively young. Double eights. What more could any person ask?

“It’s a good suggestion,” Yang said. “A fine suggestion! This is exactly why I pay you so well.”

Feng coughed, keeping his sarcasm at bay.

Yang passed the invitation along to an assistant by phone. When he hung up he said to Feng, “Should she refuse my invitation, perhaps her employer or the PSB would be interested in her contact with this waiguoren. Perhaps she lacks the proper licensing to do such business. I leave the details to you.”

“You are a brilliant and cunning strategist.”

“You will join me tonight. The nineteenth hour. Place two of our men outside number twenty Guangdong Road. At the ready to follow. You will be inside with me.”

Feng’s chest swelled with pride. “My pleasure.”

“This isn’t about pleasure, you fool. Keep your wits about you. It’s about laying a trap. It’s about outwitting the competition. Have you learned nothing?”

“My apologies.”

“Go now. Leave the DVD with me.” He had freeze-framed the naked image of Grace striding across the bedroom. “If you get any more like this, I want to see it.”

“Of course.” Feng suppressed a grin. The bonus couldn’t be far off. Eleven percent in two months, he thought, already doing the calculations.

8:45 A.M.

CHANGNING DISTRICT

Grace had no intention of showing up for work, her full attention on obtaining Lu Hao’s records of bribery. The three days remaining until the ransom drop felt more like three hours. She and Knox had a few sketchy leads: the existence of the Mongolians, their phone records and their Resident Identity Cards. They knew Danner had been held alone. A return to the Sherpa’s driver had found him gone, as they’d expected.

Knox had called to nudge Kozlowski once again about making a connection to the police motorcycle impound, while dropping another leaden hint that he needed the contents of Danner’s laptop.

So they waited, the one thing Grace was not particularly good at.

She was sipping a coffee at a bakery/café, when her phone rang-not the iPhone, but her private mobile. She reached for it tentatively, fearing another battle with her mother.

“Ms. Chu? Hello.” A woman, definitely Chinese. She spoke English. “I am calling for Yang Construction at the request of Yang Cheng, our president and CEO.”

“Yes?” she said politely, her chest suddenly tight. Yang Cheng calling her? On this number? How did he even know about her?

“Mr. Yang invites you, and a guest if you like, to a cocktail reception at the Glamour Bar this evening. Seven P.M. Business casual.”

“I am…flattered,” Grace said. “Honored. But-”

Perhaps anticipating her hesitancy, the woman said, “Mr. Yang like to welcome your return to Shanghai.”

“My return?”

“Y…es. This is Chu Youya?”

“Yes. Exactly so.” They’d done their research.

“Can I put you down for a party of two?”

“Thank you.”

“I apologize for such short notice. Entirely my fault, I assure you.”

“No apology necessary.”

“We would be happy to send a car for you if-”