Andy McDermott - The Tomb Of Hercules

It was more than two years since Chase’s last visit to Shanghai, and he was impressed-though not surprised-by the scale of the change in the city’s skyline. New skyscrapers had sprung up wherever he looked, and the spaces between them were filled with towering construction cranes that formed gangly silhouettes against the dusk sky.

The new structures weren’t the boring boxes that dominated cities in the West. Flush with money and determined to show off the fact, the booming corporations of Shanghai were engaged in an architectural arms race, competing to have the tallest, the coolest, the most outrageously designed headquarters. Ancient Chinese temples stretched vertically to a hundred stories or more, gleaming silver spires, domes, corkscrews and even some bizarre organic shapes that defied easy description, everything blazing with neon.

The building Chase took a particular interest in as the taxi drove along an overpass on the city’s eastern side was not as tall as some, but it still made a statement with its size and design. The headquarters of Ycom-pronounced yee-com -were around thirty floors high, one side of the building a sheer cliff of black glass while the other dropped away in a smooth curve that reminded him of a skateboard ramp. The roof of the building was festooned with communications masts, all picked out in neon, with what looked like a helicopter pad at the center.

Ycom, he knew, was one of Richard Yuen Xuan’s corporations.

“So, Eddie, you still like Shanghai?” said the woman driving the cab. Her petite frame made to seem even smaller by her oversized, boyish clothes, Chao Mei appeared to be barely out of her teens. In fact, she was several years older than she looked, and her pretty, innocent face, partly hidden below the brim of a floppy turquoise beret, belied some of the less-than-legal activities Chase knew she’d been involved in through her family’s connections to the Triads.

“Yeah, it looks pretty cool. All these towers, though-the whole place is like one giant dick-waving contest.”

Mei giggled. “You still always joke about sex, Eddie. Maybe if not for this”-she patted her stomach. Not even her padded jacket could disguise the fact that she was several months pregnant- “we could have finally done it for real, hmm?”

“Yeah, bloody Lo and his powerful sperm,” said Chase, knowing she was joking. “But I’m probably going to need to get out of town fast when I’m done.” His voice dropped. “Also, I’m sort of involved with someone.”

“You are?” She looked back at him, pleased but also a little surprised. “Good for you! What’s she like? Is she beautiful?”

“Eyes on the road, Mei,” Chase reminded her, trying not to wince as the taxi drifted out of its lane towards a bus. She jerked the cab back into line, then watched him in the mirror. “And yeah, she is.”

“I knew it! When I told Lo you were coming, he got very jealous. Wanted to know how someone with your face always ended up with beautiful women.”

Chase snorted, rubbing his flat, oft-broken nose. “Guess it’s because I’m just such a great bloke.”

“That’s what I told him! So, tell me about her. Are you in love?”

The skyline disappeared as the taxi descended into the tunnel under the river bisecting the city. “I… I don’t know. I dunno what we are right now, to be honest,” said Chase, wanting to change the subject. He looked out at the skyscrapers again as the taxi emerged from the tunnel on the city’s western side.

Shanghai’s Grand Theatre was an ultramodern structure of steel and glass on the western side of the People’s Park. Mei pulled the taxi over by the plaza in front of the building. “Okay, this is it. You got everything you need?”

“My ticket’s right here,” said Chase, holding it up.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you a better seat. Very short notice.”

“I didn’t come here to see some fat bloke singing,” he reminded her with a grin.

“What about a signal when you want me to get you?”

“Just keep your eyes open. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Mei frowned. “Eddie, please don’t blow up the Grand Theatre. I like it, I saw Les Mis there.”

“Sounds like a good reason to blow it up!” The frown deepened. “Okay, okay , I promise I won’t completely destroy the place.”

“Thank you.”

“Might be some breakage though.”

“Eddie!”

“Just kidding. Okay, time to go.”

“Hold on.” Mei reached back and adjusted his bow tie. “There. Perfect.”

“Aren’t I always?” He tugged the lapels of the tuxedo she had obtained for him.

“Take care of yourself,” she told him as he stepped out of the taxi. He winked in reply, then set off across the plaza.

Chase had deliberately arrived early, and he hung around in the Grand Theatre’s glass-walled foyer to observe the other audience members as they came in.

He was quickly able to distinguish the genuine opera fans from the corporate show-offs. The former were excited to be there, filled with anticipation for the performance. The latter were more interested in braying loudly, displaying a dismissive, seen-it-all-before attitude to prove this was just another in a long line of expensive perks. Fancy phones, expensive watches and showy jewelery were on open display. Yuppies were as obnoxious in China as anywhere else.

There was another division, as well. The auditorium in which Don Giovanni was being performed occupied two levels, floor and balcony. According to the seating plan in Chase’s program, the balcony level was mostly private boxes. He had no doubt that his target would be found there.

Keeping watch on the main doors, he familiarized himself with the lobby’s layout, then climbed the stairs to the balcony level. Theater staff at the end of a velvet rope cordon examined tickets to make sure that only the wealthy gained access-and beyond them were a couple of heavyset, thick-necked men in dinner jackets. Private security. Holstered guns bulged noticeably under their jackets, and Chase was sure that was deliberate. A show of force.

He looked back down at the main entrance-and saw the people he had been waiting for.

Yuen swept into the lobby as if it were his own personal domain. Four men surrounded him in a protective square, tuxedoed hulks who could have been stamped from the same mold as the guards along the corridor. A few of the yuppies made moves as if hoping to get a personal audience, but glares from the goons deterred them.

Sophia followed a couple of steps behind her husband. She was wearing a long cheongsam in shimmering red silk, and even her hair had been pinned up in a traditional Chinese style. She was also carrying a little handbag and wearing shiny black spike-heeled shoes-the platform soles making the heels even more ridiculously high, at least five inches-secured to her feet with a web of thin straps. Chase frowned. That could make things awkward.

The group headed for the elevators at the back of the lobby. Chase made his way through the guests on the balcony level, also heading for the elevators.

The doors opened and the four bodyguards emerged to clear a space, followed by Yuen and then Sophia. Chase stepped forward. One of the goons moved to block him-

“Eddie!” Sophia cried.

Yuen froze, regarding him suspiciously. “Mr… Chase, isn’t it?” he said slowly. The bodyguard stepped back, allowing Chase to approach. “This is kinda unexpected.”

“I’m a huge opera fan,” Chase said. “Never miss a performance.”

Yuen’s suspicion deepened. “It’s a long way to come from New York.”

“I get around. But it turned out well, because it means I can apologize to your wife.” He turned to Sophia. “I was… rather rude to you the other night. I’m sorry about that.”