Ridley Pearson - The Risk Agent

“Enjoy yourself?” Grace’s voice at his back.

Knox didn’t miss a beat. “That’s the general idea.”

He turned and she stepped out of shadow. It wasn’t Grace’s presence that shocked him, but the fact that he hadn’t spotted her.

“She is pretty, in a slutty kind of way,” Grace said.

“I didn’t know you cared,” he said.

“You are going out on the route,” she said, seeing the helmet.

“Yes.”

“Without me.”

“That was the plan,” Knox admitted.

She crossed her arms defiantly. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“This is not what we agreed to,” she said, speaking to the lane.

“No.”

“Then why?” she asked.

“It’s what I do. The way it’s done. It’s called advancing.”

“Do not patronize me, John Knox.”

“That’s all it was going to be: ride the route. Make sure it’s safe. Determine multiple points of egress. I was not going to ride you-us-into a possible ambush. My friend…this was his job. It’s what he did for me. I’m doing the same thing.”

“‘For me’?” Loaded with sarcasm.

“Nothing more, nothing less.” He told about Danner’s hard drive, about his wanting-needing-her to look over its contents. Admitted it was beyond his current patience level.

“I agree to this,” she said, softening some.

“I would have been there at six A.M.,” he pleaded. “Believe that or not, that’s the truth.” He hesitated. “As to the woman-”

“No!” She moved toward the scooter. “We do this tonight. Now, when these…criminals are in their homes.”

“We drive it first,” he said. “The entire route. We don’t approach any of them until first light. Any of these people-all of them-know their neighborhoods. They can navigate in the dark far better than we. Patience and planning, or we don’t do this at all.” He motioned toward the scooter.

She stood there immovable, intractable and willful.

“Please,” he said.

Two motorcycles turned into the mouth of the lane, racing toward them at a high-pitched whine. Knox saw apology and regret in her eyes: she’d allowed herself to be followed.

Both bikes veered toward Knox, skidding out from under the riders, who leaped off and dumped them toward Knox like bowling balls aimed at pins. Knox timed his jump well, though was tripped up by a rear fender as he came down. He sprawled onto the concrete, a boot heel aimed for his face before he could recover.

Grace took him out. The boot missed Knox’s face.

The other rider had gone down onto a knee while dumping his bike. Knox rolled toward him, stood, and kicked him in the groin. The man lurched forward reflexively. Knox kneed him in the face and he was out.

Grace’s opponent suffered. Her first kick had thrown him into the back wall of the Quintet and off of Knox. A moment’s hesitation on his part-disbelief such lethal force could come from a hundred-pound woman-cost him. She went after him like he was a punching bag, and he sank.

“I know this one!” she called out to Knox as she continued to deliver a volley of blows to the man’s abdomen, reducing him to the fetal position. As the man sank, she searched his pockets and came up with a wallet.

“Overconfident fools,” she said.

“Know him, how?” Knox asked.

“Yang Cheng’s cocktail party.”

Knox got a closer look. She was right: the bodyguard type never far from the party host.

“Damn,” he said, impressed.

He got the scooter going and aimed for the street. Grace threw a leg over the seat and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and they were off.

6:20 A.M.

ZHABEI AND PUDONG DISTRICTS

SHANGHAI

The first pass amounted to a surveillance run. Knox drove with Grace directing him from behind while holding the GPS. He replayed Danner’s voice notes in his head and relayed them to Grace. Afterward, they killed an hour in Jing An Park awaiting the sunrise.

“I want you to keep this,” he said, passing her his copy of Danner’s hard drive. “Insurance. Also, we’re going to need a laptop. We need to study the contents of that drive A-SAP.”

She looked somewhat confused.

“As soon as possible,” he said.

“Is not a problem. Laptops are for sale on every block in Shanghai. And cheap.”

Knox laughed, and she followed, covering her mouth as if ashamed. Knox wanted to tell her to show her smile; he said nothing.

“Do you love her?” she asked.

He considered the question thoughtfully, and how to answer. “Do you know particle physics? You accelerate a proton or neutron and smash it and it gives off energy and breaks into smaller particles, which you then capture? That’s how I see love. I’ve experienced the breaking up thing, the energy. I’m still waiting for the capture.” He added, “Back at my place…it wasn’t what you think,” he said.

“You do not know what I think,” she said.

“We don’t control these things,” he said. “Do you understand? Some things control us.”

“I understand perfectly well.”

“What controls you?” he asked.

She snorted.

“The connection to Lu Hao’s family,” he speculated, having tried before.

She flashed him a penetrating look. “Lu Hao’s older brother is called Lu Jian.”

He waited her out.

“I was responsible for Lu Hao’s placement with Berthold.”

“You feel responsible. Tell me about Lu Jian.”

It was more than that. His comment drove her to silence. “I do not think so.”

“A romance.”

She didn’t deny it.

“Current or past?”

No answer.

“Or both,” he said. “That’s part of this for you.”

“There are family obligations.”

“Face.”

“What would you know of face?”

“My brother. I told you about him. Perception and reality are two very different things. Maybe I know more about face than you might expect.”

“I doubt it.”

“You’re hoping for a second chance,” he speculated. “You save the little brother, maybe you save the romance.”

She shot him a vicious look. But she didn’t deny it.

Not long after, the sky lightened and they returned to the scooter. Street traffic was sparse, though the corner bao shops teemed. The smell of charcoal and grilled pork filled the air.

The routes and destinations were more familiar to them now. Knox slowed the scooter as they neared the first location. Danner’s voice told him it was a childless couple in their forties. He pulled the scooter to the curb.

Grace jumped off the back and threw her helmet to him.

“You need to stay here!” she said in Mandarin, for the sake of the people passing on the sidewalk.

Knox did not want to make a scene. He knew any waiguoren-any American accent, no matter how good-would stand out. But he had no intention of standing by and leaving Grace alone.

He slipped off his helmet, pulled on a ball cap and hurried across the street chasing her.

“Foolish!” she said, refusing to look at him.

“The way we talked about,” he said. “The way I laid it out.”

Together, they hurried up the darkened exterior staircase to a second-floor balcony and around the corner to the second door from the street side of the apartment building. Knox put his back to the wall, out of sight of the door.

She knocked and a moment later the door came partially open.

“Wei?” a woman’s voice speaking Mandarin. Yes?

“I have the delivery you’ve been expecting,” Grace said.

The door swung open farther as the woman called out, “Laogong!” Husband.