Ridley Pearson - The Risk Agent

Grace went home to unpack and clean up. The chauffeur popped the trunk and walked behind the car.

“It is okay,” Grace said. “I have no luggage.”

“The gentleman said to give you this, miss,” the driver called over to her.

He pulled a Nike duffel from the trunk and delivered it to the curb at Grace’s feet.

“And this,” he said, reaching into his jacket and withdrawing a red envelope.

“Thank you,” she said, dumbfounded. She had nothing to offer as a gratuity. The driver shut the trunk, unfazed, smiled and returned behind the wheel and drove off.

Grace found her throat dry, her limbs tingling. She opened the envelope and pulled out his note to her.

For Lu Hao.

Face.

No signature. She bent to take the duffel by the strap and remembered the weight of it as she hoisted it onto her shoulder. Had forgotten all about it. Had no idea-none whatsoever, how Knox could have possibly come up with it. But the note left little doubt. It had to be him.

She lugged it into the elevator and up to her apartment, placed it on the floor and sat on the couch and stared at it. The sobs rose up from her chest and through her clenched throat, and out her eyes to where she hung her head into her palms. All the events of the past week came up like oil from a well, a release that left her exhausted and elated and hungry.

She never unzipped the duffel, never confirmed its contents. She called Lu Hao at his hotel and asked to pay him a visit. He invited her over.

10:00 A.M.

HONG KONG

The following morning, Grace and Knox met in Brian Primer’s office. They sat across from each other. Knox avoided her eyes.

Dulwich had been discharged from the hospital and was supposed to be under private care at his residence. He showed up at the meeting ten minutes behind the others.

“Events are happening quickly over there,” Primer said, wearing a gorgeous silk suit and a dark tan from a golf outing in Vietnam. They were seated in the same area where Grace had first received her instructions.

He tossed a newspaper to Knox. Below the fold was an article about the arrest of Chairman Zhimin on charges of bribery and corruption.

Grace and Knox finally met eyes and she gave him an I-told-you-so look.

“Allan Marquardt got out of the country,” Primer said, “but faces charges. The Berthold Group has been caught with their pants down. It won’t go well for them. But the Chinese wasted no time. Yang Construction appears first in line to be awarded the completion of Xuan Tower. If you believe the blogs. That could have-should have-taken months. It happened in one day.”

“So, we’re done?” Knox said.

Dulwich said, “Not hardly.”

“You two did outstanding work,” Primer said.

“Thank you,” Grace said.

“We intend to compensate you well. In your case, Mr. Knox, that includes the use of the company jet to get to wherever you need to go next.”

“I’d like to speak with Danny,” he said.

“Mr. Danner is stateside with his family.”

“No, he’s not. He’s checked in at the Four Seasons in a suite on sixteen with an elevator lockout. I could go to the trouble of breaking in, but your blessing would make things easier.”

Primer shrugged. “This is a…fluid business, John. May I call you John?”

Knox shrugged. Dulwich’s eyes bore into Knox. He sensed where Primer was going but Knox had no desire to field an offer. The only thing holding him in the chair was Grace, and after a moment he thought that foolish as well. What was he waiting for? Done was done.

“So?” Knox said. “I’m free to go?”

Grace looked over. She smiled warmly, and he back at her.

“See you,” he said to her, standing.

“Talk to my secretary about scheduling the jet,” Primer said, proudly offering his toy again. “Ninety minutes is all the lead time they need.” He added, “She has your check.”

“Thank you,” Grace said, her hand extended to Knox. “For everything.”

They shook hands. It felt impossibly formal after what they’d been through. Impossibly Chinese.

Primer said, “The point is…you two, there are opportunities like this that arise.”

“All the time,” Dulwich added.

Knox let go of her hand and headed for the door. “Tommy awaits.”

“Speaking of your brother,” she called out to him, “I finally got a look at your company books, John.”

Recalling the failed payment to Amy Xue, he stopped.

“You are going to need my help,” Grace said.

“Is that right?”

“That is right,” she said.

“All right then.”

He left the room, not looking back. Stopped at the secretary’s desk and couldn’t help but sneak a peek inside the envelope. The check was written for an eye-popping amount. He folded the envelope and slipped it into the rear pocket of his jeans.

“I’d like to book that plane, please.”

1:00 P.M.

FOUR SEASONS HOTEL

HONG KONG

Knox rapped lightly on the hotel room door. Waited. Tried again. At last the jamb and lock made a noise and the door cracked, then opened more fully. Knox went in. The two men embraced, Danner holding his bandaged hand away from contact.

“Primer told me you’d found me.”

“I nearly bought into your having headed home,” Knox said.

The room was a business suite: a king bedroom with a couple chairs around a larger-than-usual table. Fresh flowers in a glass vase.

“I wish,” Danner said. “I entered without a passport. The Chinese wanted to lock me up. We agreed on here as my purgatory. The usual red tape trying to leave. It’ll sort out tomorrow or the next day. Consulate staff’s on it.”

“Peggy?”

“Out of her mind about this whole thing. And expecting any day.”

“Yeah, I heard. You know if it’s a boy or girl?”

“No. But I know what we’re going to call it, either way.”

“You can’t call a girl John; it’ll scar her for her life.”

“Ha ha. Grace is a nice name.”

“It is.”

“She’s a nice lady.”

“She is.”

“Tough.”

“No doubt,” Knox said.

Danner offered him a beer from the minibar. They both drank.

“So…why’d you do it?” Danner asked.

“You’d have done it for me.”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Danner said, stone-faced.

“Selfish reasons,” Knox said.

“The money?”

“I could lie. It was definitely in the mix.”

“Tommy. The money, I mean.”

“Tough sledding right now. His medical costs are through the roof. Selling nose flutes isn’t exactly covering it.”

“How is he?”

“Stable.”

“Good.”

“Yes.”

“And you? How are you dealing with it?”

Knox considered this carefully. “I try to make enough income to cover my guilt over being away.”

“One doesn’t work without the other,” Danner said.

“Yeah…right,” Knox said.

“I wouldn’t beat myself up over it.”

“Yeah, you would.”

“Yeah,” Danner said, “I probably would.”

“You’re the next in line. Godfather. Keeper. Caregiver. Whatever. That’s why,” he said, answering the earlier question.

“I hope you’re kidding,” Danner said.

Knox answered by leveling a look across the table.

“You can’t run an engine on guilt, Fort.” It was a nickname that Knox hadn’t heard in years. It took him back to a different life. “You’ve got to get beyond that shit. It’ll destroy you.” He added, “You don’t owe me anything simply because I’m willing to help out if you go MIA.”

Knox said nothing.

“I will figure out a way to pay for Tommy’s stuff.”