Ridley Pearson - The Risk Agent

“It is what you expected?” Selena asked between bites.

“Yes. Perfect. Thank you.”

“What exactly is ‘forensic accountant’?”

“We are like surgeons. We cut into the body and find out what is wrong…how to fix it,” Grace answered. She fictionalized her role for the sake of the surveillance, according to her and Knox’s plan. “The firm believes there is an audit imminent from the U.S. tax authorities. Broadly speaking, my job is to make sure everything adds up.”

“You will, no doubt, be troubled with Mr. Marquardt’s travel expenses, then?”

Grace was typically focused on five or six figures and above, but she was tempted by Selena’s concern.

“If you have had trouble balancing an expense account,” she said, “I would be pleased to be of assistance.”

“I just wish to make it known that it was not my idea to redact lines from his credit card bill. I would like very much for that to be understood. Is this a crime?”

“Happens all the time, dear girl. Not to worry.” Inside, Grace was churning. Why should Marquardt want his assistant to redact line items from a credit card bill? Buying a gift for the wife on the company card? Had he lied about a mistress? Did any of it matter? “There is no blame that will result from my work. I find problems and make suggestions for how to fix them, to institute proper accounting practices.”

“I removed the lines because of security concerns,” she said, offering up the excuse. “I was told to by Mr. Song.”

“Indeed?”

“He said our competition would go to great lengths to secure such information.”

“Yes. Of course. I suppose the travel of the boss would be of interest to many.” Grace couldn’t allow herself to appear too hungry for more information, but her heart pounded. Ever mindful of the electronic eyes and ears, she considered how to end the conversation for now. “What were the dates of the trip? Or a particular charge? That might help me locate it within the accounting.”

“A hotel and some meals in Chongming. Golf, you might think. Mr. Marquardt charges golf to the company card plenty. But not golf. He was with Mr. Song. So, business, neh? No pleasure trips with Mr. Song.”

“It is nothing to worry about, I am certain,” Grace said. “Perhaps, if you provide me with the dates…” she tried again, “I can take a look to make sure.”

“As to that, it was mid-September. I don’t recall the exact day. Second weekend, perhaps. Not during the workweek-I remember as much. Even more curious, given Mr. Song was traveling with him! The two together on a weekend! I would never have expected that,” Selena chuckled.

“Business only,” Grace said, simply to keep the conversation going while her mind sorted out what she was hearing. Danner had voice-dated the GPS bookmark for the Mongolian delivery for September tenth. She’d had the call from Lu Hao left on her cell phone a week later, the seventeenth. Marquardt’s Chongming Island trip had to be tied to Lu Hao-Lu Hao’s family lived on the island, as did Grace’s. Did this trip explain Marquardt’s reluctance to show her the more detailed accounting even while cooperating with her other requests? Did it somehow account for Lu Hao’s kidnapping?

Selena gauged the moment, sipped tea and then marveled at the view, briefly changing the subject.

“Mr. Marquardt does not like Mr. Song,” she said. “I cannot imagine him traveling with Mr. Song for pleasure. A weekend together at the same hotel? It must have been business.”

“What kind of business?”

“Mr. Song conducts due diligence on our upcoming projects.” Selena proudly showed off her in-depth knowledge of the corporate big men.

“Easily explained then!” Grace said cheerfully. “And the Chongming Island project is…?”

Selena’s eyes grew sharp.

“I do not wish to pry,” Grace said. “I simply want to do my best to keep you out of trouble with the U.S. tax authority. If you are not the one in charge-”

“Of course I am in charge. I handle all of Mr. Marquardt’s itinerary.”

“All but his trip to Chongming Island…”

“This trip…this is the first it has appeared on his schedule.”

“But the billing statement has been redacted,” Grace reminded. “So there’s no proof of it anyway.”

“Of course there is proof! There is the original billing. A duplicate can always be requested.”

Grace worked to appear surprised.

“I can request the records the moment I am back into the office,” Selena said. “I will send them to you the moment I have them.”

“What a clever girl you are,” Grace said.

1:25 P.M.

HUANGPU DISTRICT

The wet market was less than three blocks behind him when Knox used a reflection off a storefront window to spot the dark green motorcycle at his back. It started to rain lightly. He walked quickly south and the Mongolian followed. Dulwich’s explanation about the taxi driver reporting him seemed plausible if unlikely; more probable was that the Mongolian had spotted him and Grace on the scooter in his lilong and had then traced the scooter’s registration back to the employee at Quintet from whom Knox had rented the scooter. He made a mental note to follow up with Fay about that.

Knox headed to the Modern Electronic City, a funky, three-story shopping complex at the intersection of Xiangyang Road and Fuxing Middle Road. Inside was a congested rabbit warren of narrow aisles and shop stalls crammed with anything electronic as well as the ubiquitous clothes and kitchen supply stalls.

He was met with the roar of negotiation. He climbed a moving escalator, turned right at the top and slapped a hundred-yuan note onto the scratched glass countertop. He punched “Kenny G” in the shoulder and, in halting Mandarin, told the shop booth attendant he was being followed by a Mongolian asshole who thought all waiguoren were fair game. “A common pickpocket, no doubt.”

To be called “common” was among the gravest insults.

Kenny cursed. Knox, a regular customer when in town, stepped into shadow, wedging himself into a corner. The emergency exit he wanted was at his back.

Two minutes and the Mongolian had not entered.

Knox saw across to a stall selling digital cameras. On its counter stood an array of digital frames-electronic LCD screens that could display a slide show. One of the frames scrolled through images of the Great Wall and the terra-cotta soldiers. Another advertised across the screen in a steady scroll:

Join the revolution in digital storage!! Holds over 1,000 photos and 5,000 songs!

Grace had photographed a digital picture frame in Lu Hao’s apartment. It had not occurred to her to collect it. But it being digital implied internal memory. The frames accepted images from USB connections.

Lu Hao had hidden his off-the-book spreadsheet in plain sight.

Knox was suddenly far less concerned with trapping and working over the Mongolian for information-Dulwich’s current plan-as he was with returning to Lu Hao’s apartment to grab up the digital frame.

Knox spotted Dulwich wandering the lower level. After allowing several minutes to pass, Dulwich rode the escalator upstairs and joined Knox around the corner at Kenny G’s. They quickly swapped jackets and hats, Dulwich now dressed in the ScotteVest, jeans and ball cap, Knox in Dulwich’s pale gray canvas airman jacket-candy bar wrappers in both pockets. Given the rain, the substitution might work.

“Forget working this guy,” Knox said. “I’ve got a new lead to follow.” He explained how Grace had seen a digital frame in Lu Hao’s apartment, how they’d overlooked that as a possible digital hiding place. “All I need is to get this guy off my back.”