Snakehead

I

They drove past dilapidated wooden huts and old trailers set back among the trees on University Avenue. Battered pick-up trucks looked abandoned in dirt drives cluttered with rusted car wrecks and accumulations of trash. The occasional shiny new satellite dish stood pointing incongruously toward a leaden sky, the first red light of dawn creeping into it from the east.

As they went up the hill toward Main, they passed, on the left, the unimpressive offices of the District Attorney. Across the street the old county jailhouse was now home to a law firm.

Mendez chuckled. ‘Most folks would say that all lawyers should be put in the local jailhouse.’ Which was ironic, because they were on their way to meet the lawyer they hoped was going to get Xiao Ling freed from custody. He and Margaret had driven straight up to the Holliday Unit, while it was still dark, to collect Li. Li had spent a sleepless night there wrestling with the conflicting options that confronted him. Margaret’s phone call had come like a bright light shining into a very dark place. Now she sat up front, beside Mendez. Li sat in the back staring gloomily from the window. His initial hopes had since faded with news that the INS was almost certain to oppose Xiao Ling’s release.

They passed a mural on a side wall depicting the 1836 Battle of San Jacinto, at which Sam Houston had led his Texan army to victory over Santa Anna and freedom from Mexico. They took a right into Main and drove past the impressive square of the Walker County Courthouse dominating the centre of Huntsville, then left into Sam Houston, drawing in beside a colourful display of birds of paradise set behind a low brick wall. The morning air was still cold as they stepped out on to the sidewalk, and laced with the smell of fresh coffee drifting down from the Café Texan. They walked past Scottie’s antique store, a window cluttered with bits of pottery and old furniture, shelves piled high with cheap bric-a-brac the owner liked to call ‘memorabilia’. The nonsmoking section of the café was empty. A sign in the window read NORMA’S SKIN AND NAILS UPSTAIRS. Margaret had seen the sign often and always wondered where the rest of Norma was kept.

The Café Texan was an old-fashioned Southern breakfast-diner. Low stools lined up along a red counter. Pots of Kona coffee sat on hotplates behind it. A large-breasted girl in hotpants served eggs over easy and grits and pancakes with maple syrup, to customers in Wranglers and Stetsons. Country music played over the sound system. On execution days and for several days beforehand, the Café Texan played host to the country’s media whose reporters would cram the place in the early hours speculating on whether or not there would be a last-minute reprieve. In recent years, those had been few and far between, and they were drawn now only by the crowds of protesters that gathered outside the Walls Unit in the run-up to controversial executions.

Li attracted some curious looks as an older woman with steel grey hair came up to them and said, ‘How y’all doin?’ and took them to a table at the back where a pasty-faced middle-aged man in a crumpled suit stood up to greet them. He had cut himself shaving, and his thinning grey hair was a little dishevelled. ‘Jesus, Felipe,’ he said. ‘You any idea what time I had to get outta my bed to get here?’

Felipe grinned and shook his hand. ‘No rest for the wicked, Dan.’ He turned and introduced Margaret and Li, then told them, ‘This is Daniel L. Stern, attorney at law, smartest lawyer this side of the Mississippi, and just as crooked.’

‘You only ever gotta be as crooked as the law itself,’ Stern said, grinning back at Mendez. He sat down again. ‘Damn, this is good grub. What you folks having?’

But none of them was hungry. Li and Margaret ordered coffee, and Mendez an iced tea. They watched Stern devour a double helping of grits smothered in maple syrup.

‘Don’t get a chance to eat like this too often,’ he said. ‘Wife says I gotta watch my waistline.’ And almost without pausing to draw breath, he added, ‘So this is some case you’re throwing at me, Felipe. Scary stuff. Jesus, if this ever gets out, there’ll be rioting in the streets.’ He looked at Li. ‘And you people had better run for cover.’

‘Then you know how important it is to keep this under your hat,’ Mendez said.

‘Hey,’ Stern chided him. ‘I think I know a little bit about client confidentiality, Felipe.’ A serving of French toast arrived, and he poured on more maple syrup. ‘So the way I see it, we have here a young woman who was forced to leave home in order to have her baby. Could the authorities have forced her to have an abortion?’ He raised a hand to preempt any reply. ‘Never mind, we’ll say they could.’

Margaret studied Stern with distaste as he shovelled French toast into his face. He was a fast-mouthed conveyer of ersatz justice, delivered on tap to the man with the most dollars in his hand. She glanced at Li and knew that he did not like him any better than she did. But with his sister’s freedom at stake, he was keeping his feelings to himself.

‘After the Tiananmen Square massacre in eighty-nine, the one-child policy became grounds on which lots of Chinese were granted asylum in American courts.’ Stern winked at Felipe. ‘See? I didn’t really go back to bed after your call. Been doing my homework.’ And he turned back to Li and Margaret. ‘But after the Golden Venture went aground off of New York, the US reversed its policy on that, until President Clinton announced in ’97 that the one-child policy should be considered political persecution. So your sister,’ he said to Li, ‘was driven from her home but lost her baby and knew the only way she was gonna have the freedom to fulfill her human right to have children was by escaping the country of her birth.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s irresistible stuff. No judge in an American court’s gonna send her back.’ He stabbed a finger at Li. ‘And you’ll testify if needs be? How she’s been separated from her daughter for two years? And how you’ve had the sole responsibility of looking after the child in her absence?’

Li had no idea what kind of trouble this might get him in with his embassy, but he nodded. It was all true. ‘Sure,’ he said.

‘Good.’ Stern seemed very pleased with himself. ‘And if Professor Mendez and Dr. Campbell approve a diet that you promise to see she sticks to, then I figure we’re home free.’ He finished off his French toast, drained a mug of coffee and wiped his face with a paper napkin. ‘Okay,’ he said, and stood up. ‘Let’s go get her outta there.’

Armed correctional officers of the TDCJ controlled the front and rear entries to the College of Criminal Justice at the top of the hill. There was also a substantial police presence cordoning off the college from the rest of the campus.

The prisoners had been brought over from the Holliday Unit on two buses an hour earlier and were being held in the Eliasberg Room, a brick-walled conference room at the back of the court. Its conference table had been removed and replaced by rows of plastic chairs. Judge McKinley, a laconic black man in his forties, who presided over the immigration court at Goree, had been given chambers in a library room through the wall from the prisoners.

The officers handling the prisoners were still wearing their Tivek suits and HEPA face masks, but the judge, on assurances from Department of Health officials that none of the prisoners was infectious, had refused to take any precautions and entered the court as usual wearing his black gown over a charcoal grey suit. On a bench, flanked by the Stars and Stripes on one side and the Lone Star of Texas on the other and set high above the court officer and a Chinese translator, he looked out over the rising tiers of an almost empty courtroom. There were three tables set out front, one in the middle for the prisoner and one on either side. The INS lawyer, a young, anxious-looking woman in her early thirties, sat at one of them the other was for representatives of the accused. But of the sixty-seven people due to appear before the court that day, only Xiao Ling had any legal representation.

Stern sat looking bored, leaning back chewing reflectively on the end of his pencil as the first immigrants were brought before the judge. Margaret sat at the back of the courtroom watching proceedings with a detached sense of horrified curiosity. Illegal immigrants had few, if any, rights. The court was required to allow them to make contact with their consulates, and they had the right to legal representation. But virtually none of them had access to a lawyer, never mind the means to pay for one. An anonymous Chinese in a crisp, dark suit sat very erect about three seats away from Margaret, watching proceedings and scribbling occasionally in a notebook on his knee. Margaret guessed he was from the Chinese consulate. Li had gone earlier to speak with his sister, and was now waiting outside the court until she was called. Margaret wondered if he was trying to avoid the consular official.

The court was sitting, Margaret knew, on a constitutional knife edge. The media would not normally be interested in the proceedings of an immigration court in Huntsville but would have rights of access if they so desired. She was certain that it would not be long before some local newshound would figure out that there was something a little out of the ordinary going on up at the college and put in an appearance. She had no idea how the authorities would deal with that. She was just glad that it was not her responsibility.

A procession of pathetic figures in white prison uniform was brought before the judge by a burly sergeant wearing a face mask and gloves. Virtually none of them spoke English, and Judge McKinley had to resort to using the interpreter, a process with which he was clearly quite familiar. They all faced the same questions. Name. Nationality. Did they understand the charge against them? Why should the court not deport them back to China? Would they like time to prepare a defence and seek representation? Case continued for seven days. Each took five minutes or less to process.

They were about seven or eight cases in when Margaret turned to see Agent Fuller entering the court. He made his way quietly down the steps and sat several rows from the front, watching the proceedings impassively.

It was nearly an hour before Xiao Ling was brought in. Margaret guessed her case was imminent when Agent Hrycyk wandered into the back of the court, gave her a wink, and sauntered past Fuller, down to the front where he took a seat on the public benches behind the INS lawyer. He was pale-faced and puffy-eyed, and looked as if he had had about as much sleep as Margaret. A few moments later, Mendez slipped into the back of the courtroom. He saw Margaret and waved a slip of paper at her, smiling, before taking an aisle seat.

Li followed Xiao Ling into the back of the court and sat beside Margaret. She was aware of the Chinese consular official looking curiously along the row in their direction. But Li kept his eyes facing front. If he had to give evidence, Margaret thought, it might not be too long before he was appearing before an immigration court himself asking for political asylum.

They watched as Xiao Ling was led to the table at the front and told to sit. Stern rose to his feet. ‘If it please Your Honour, my name is Daniel Stern, attorney at law in the state of Texas, and I’m appearing for the accused.’

The judge scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘Thank you, Mr. Stern, how does your client respond to the charges?’

‘Judge, my client intends to claim political asylum on the grounds of persecution in her native China under that government’s one-child policy. I don’t know if you are familiar—’

Judge McKinley cut him off. ‘I know all about the one-child policy, Mr. Stern,’ he said sharply.

‘Of course, your honour. Then I would like to apply for bail for my client in order to give us time to prepare a case.’

The INS lawyer was on her feet immediately. ‘We object, Your Honour. Given the special circumstances surrounding all the accused in these cases, we think it would be unsafe for the court to grant bail in any of them.’

The judge said, ‘Thank you, Miss Carter.’ He looked at Stern. ‘Mr. Stern?’

‘Judge, taking account of these…special circumstances…’ he put particular emphasis on the words, and smiled across at the INS bench, ‘…I’m proposing that the court attach special conditions to the terms of the bail granted to Miss Xiao Ling.’ He pronounced her name, ‘Shaolin’. ‘We have in court today the brother of the accused.’

Margaret was aware of Li shifting uncomfortably, and she saw Hrycyk glaring back at them from the front of the court.

Stern went on, ‘Mr. Li Yan is a senior law enforcement officer with the Chinese police and a special criminal justice liaison here in the United States, based at the Chinese Embassy in Washington. If the court is prepared to release the accused into his protective custody, then he will guarantee her reappearance in this court on the date your honour fixes for the hearing.’

Miss Carter was on her feet again. ‘If it please your honour, we don’t believe that this meets the special needs of the case, and that Miss Xiao Ling, along with all the other accused here today, should be held in quarantined custody until such time as the court determines a proper resolution.’

‘Judge, I hadn’t finished,’ Stern said.

The judge nodded. ‘Go ahead, Mr. Stern.’

‘Your honour, we also have in court today two senior members of the federal task force assembled to deal with the special circumstances alluded to. That is Dr. Margaret Campbell, Chief Medical Examiner of Harris County, and Felipe Mendez, emeritus professor of genetics at Baylor College of Medicine. They are prepared to approve a diet for Miss Xiao Ling that will guarantee her status as a noninfectious person during the period of her bail.’

‘Objection, your honour. We don’t believe that anyone can make that guarantee.’

Judge McKinley sighed, as if he were starting to lose interest. ‘Mr. Stern? Do you have this list?’

Stern looked to the back of the court and received a nod from Mendez. ‘We do, Your Honour.’

‘Let me see it.’ The judge held out his hand.

Mendez rose and made his way to the bench. Xiao Ling watched the proceedings from her table, bewildered in spite of a running commentary provided by the court translator. Stern said, ‘Your honour, this is Professor Mendez.’ Mendez handed the list to the court officer who stood up and handed it up to the judge.

The judge considered it for a very long couple of minutes. Then he looked down at Mendez. ‘This looks like a menu from a Chinese take-away, Professor,’ he said, to a sprinkling of laughter from around the court. ‘Making me damned hungry, too.’ He looked at his watch. ‘And we’re still a couple of hours away from lunch.’ More laughter. Then his smile quickly faded and he asked sharply, ‘Professor, how can you guarantee this diet is safe?’

Mendez said, ‘Your Honour, the list of foods you have there has been prepared overnight by the Department of Health after extensive interviews with the prisoners appearing before you today. All these foods have been safely consumed without activating the flu virus. They form the basis of the diet to which all the prisoners will be subject, both for their own safety and for the safety of the officers in whose custody they will be placed.’

Hrycyk leaned forward to whisper urgently in Miss Carter’s ear. She stood up quickly. ‘Judge, is the professor really saying he can guarantee that this diet is safe?’

McKinley looked at Mendez. ‘Well, professor? Are you?’

Mendez smiled easily. ‘I’d stake my reputation on it, your honour.’

McKinley raised an eyebrow and looked at Miss Carter. ‘Miss Carter?’

She glanced at Hrycyk, who was tight-lipped with anger. But all he could do was give a frustrated little shrug. She turned back to Judge McKinley. ‘Ummm…’

The judge said, ‘Miss Carter, if all you’re prepared to do is issue Buddhist chants, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to grant Mr. Stern his request.’ He glanced at his diary. ‘I’ll set the hearing for one week from today. Meantime, Miss Xiao Ling is released into the custody of her brother.’

Miss Carter said quickly, ‘Your honour, if you would be prepared to grant a recess in this case, that would give me time to prepare a proper rebuttal.’

McKinley swung an irritated look in her direction. ‘Miss Carter, you can rebut all you like at the hearing next week. I’ve made my decision.’ He banged his wooden hammer on its gavel. ‘Next!’

II

Li and Xiao Ling embraced in the entrance lobby outside the Hazel B. Kerper Courtroom. Her face was wet with tears. She was confused and emotional, but aware that somehow the court had released her into the custody of her brother. The sergeant took her gently by the arm and told them that she’d have to go back to the Holliday Unit first to change and pick up her things. He figured she’d be ready in about an hour. Stern had made a hasty departure, saying he had a case in Houston that afternoon, and that he would be in touch about preparing a brief for the hearing next week.

Hrycyk banged out of the court in a foul mood. He hissed at Margaret, ‘You people are putting the whole goddamned country at risk!’

Margaret shook her head calmly. ‘This country’s in far greater danger from people like you, Agent Hrycyk. You’re a dinosaur, did you know that? A relic from another age.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he said sourly and moved off to engage in a whispered conference with Miss Carter.

Margaret turned to find Mendez standing looking at a flag mounted inside a glass case on the wall. It had green, white and red vertical stripes with the date 1824 crudely scrawled on the central white band. The bottom left of the band was defaced by a single bullet hole. ‘You know what this is, my dear?’ he said. ‘It’s the flag that was flying over the Alamo when John Wayne and Richard Widmark got killed.’

Margaret laughed. ‘Don’t you mean Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie?’

Mendez smiled and tugged at his white goatee. ‘I can only ever see the actors,’ he said. ‘Hollywood spoils history for us, don’t you think?’ He turned twinkling eyes on her.

Her smile faded. She said, ‘Felipe, you took a real risk in there. Putting your reputation on the line like that.’

He laughed out loud. ‘My dear, my reputation is already in tatters. I have absolutely nothing to lose.’

Li approached them and held out his hand to Mendez. ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Professor.’

‘Just take good care of her,’ Mendez said. ‘And make sure she sticks to that diet.’

Margaret had a sudden thought. ‘Shouldn’t we send a copy of the diet up to Fort Detrick for Steve Cardiff?’

Mendez said, ‘I’m way ahead of you, my dear. It’s already done.’

‘Dr. Campbell…Mr. Li…’ They turned at the sound of Agent Fuller’s voice. He was accompanied by Hrycyk and by a well-groomed Chinese man whom Margaret had seen hanging around outside the college when they first arrived. ‘I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Yi Fenghi. Mr. Yi works for Councilman Soong, an elected member of Houston City Council and the recognised spokesperson for the city’s Chinese community.’

Yi bowed stiffly and shook hands with them each in turn. He was a small man, no more that five-six or seven at the most. He had a clean-shaven, round face and dark hair brushed straight back from his forehead and fixed there with gel. He wore an Armani suit, a white silk shirt and a plain blue tie. ‘Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Campbell. Gentlemen.’ His English was correct but stilted.

‘What do you say we go take a seat over there?’ Fuller said, indicating a group of comfortable chairs by the window forming a square around a central table. And they moved away from the figures milling outside the courtroom and arranged themselves around the square. The window looked out on to a car park at the back, within the horseshoe shape of the college.

Fuller said, ‘Apparently yesterday’s raids have created a fair amount of panic in Chinatown.’

Yi cut in. ‘Councilman Soong is very anxious that the community work with the police and the INS to sort out any problems that may exist. He has already been approached by many community leaders concerned that there has been no communication with the authorities over this new clampdown. So he has called a meeting for this afternoon and hopes that representatives from your agencies will also attend. For information and advice.’

‘I think we should go,’ Fuller said. ‘We’re going to need the community on our side when this thing really breaks. What do you think, Li?’

Li looked at Yi speculatively. He said, ‘I think if the messenger dresses in Armani suits and silk shirts, then his boss must be worth a few kwai.’

Yi was unruffled. ‘Councilman Soong is chairman of the Houston-Hong Kong Bank,’ he said. ‘He is a ve-ery rich man. He has heard a great deal about you, Detective Li. He would very much like to meet you.’

‘Would he?’

‘He is from Canton. He began life in America as an illegal immigrant himself. He was granted amnesty by President Bush after Tiananmen. So now he is a real American.’

‘The living embodiment of the American Dream,’ Li said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Margaret glanced at him, curious about his attitude. Then he said, ‘Okay, let’s meet with Councilman Soong.’

Yi stood up, smiling. ‘At two o’clock this afternoon, then. At Minute Maid Park.’

‘A fucking baseball stadium?’ This from Hrycyk. He could not hide his incredulity.

Yi said, ‘Councilman Soong has a private suite at the stadium which he uses for confidential meetings.’ Yi grinned. ‘And Councilman Soong says, no soft soap, please. He likes to play hardball.’ He nodded and headed toward the door.

Margaret said to Li, ‘You didn’t like him much, did you?’

Li said, ‘He’s a type. You come across them all the time in my job. Low life off the street. A hundred-dollar haircut and an Armani suit doesn’t hide that.’

Hrycyk said, to no one in particular, ‘I don’t know how he can tell. They all look the same to me.’

Mendez ignored Hrycyk and said mischievously, ‘Ah, but don’t they say that it’s clothes that maketh the man?’

Li said, ‘They also say that a leopard never changes its spots.’

Margaret laughed. ‘Never exchange proverbs with a Chinese, Felipe,’ she said. ‘You’ll never win. They’ve got more of them than the rest of the world put together.’

III

There were storm clouds gathering in the sky. Great dark, rolling accumulations of rain filled with electricity and the promise of thunder. A hot wind had sprung up from the southwest and blew the dust of nearly six rainless weeks along the edges of the highway. Convicts in scuffed white prison outfits, trustees, raked the trash at the roadside, sweating freely in the hot humid midday.

The Holliday Unit was all the more oppressive, somehow, under the black sky. Margaret sat in the car park in Mendez’s Bronco, the engine running to power the air-con. He had told her to leave it for him at her office car park. Baylor was only five minutes away in the Texas Medical Center, and he would get the shuttle bus down to pick it up when he was finished there. He went off with Li, Hrycyk and Fuller to get a ride into Houston. Now Margaret sat waiting at the prison gate for Xiao Ling. She was going to take her to the Forensic Center on Old Spanish Trail, and Li would pick her up after the meeting at Minute Maid Park to take her to Washington.

Margaret was full of trepidation. Xiao Ling’s English was limited, and she was expecting to be picked up by Li. Margaret tapped the wheel impatiently, aware of the guard watching her from the tower. She had called up to him twenty minutes ago that she was there to collect Xiao Ling. But there was still no sign of activity. Then she saw the main door of H block opening, and Deputy Warden Macleod emerged with Li’s sister, dressed as she had been yesterday in her short blue dress and white high heels. It was a bizarre contrast to the prison uniform she had worn in court, a transformation from cowed illegal immigrant back to cheap prostitute. If clothes did not make the man, she thought, then they certainly made, or unmade, the woman.

She got out of the car and walked to the outer gate to meet them. As she did, the first heavy drops of rain started to fall from the sky. Margaret felt them big and cold on her bare arms and neck.

Deputy Warden Macleod said, ‘She’s all yours, doctor.’

Xiao Ling stood looking at her, and then glanced bewildered beyond her to the car park. ‘Li Yan?’ she asked.

Margaret shook her head. She pointed at Xiao Ling, then at herself. ‘You come with me.’

Xiao Ling appeared confused. Frightened even. She shook her head. ‘No.’

The deputy warden smiled. ‘Well, I’ll leave you good folks to it,’ she said, and she locked the gate behind her, and started back along the corridor, leaving Margaret feeling very alone out there in the rain with this stranger who was her lover’s sister.

She pointed to her wrist watch and made a circling motion with her finger, hoping to indicate passing time. ‘Li Yan. Houston. Later,’ she said.

Xiao Ling looked at her blankly. Margaret was starting to lose patience, getting wet standing there as the rain got heavier. She took the girl by the wrist and started leading her toward the Bronco. But Xiao Ling resisted. ‘No,’ she said again, pulling her wrist away.

Margaret snapped, ‘Well, have it your own fucking way. You can stay here in the rain if you want, but I’m going to Houston.’ And she ran, sheltering her head with her purse, toward the Bronco. Something in her tone must have communicated more than her words — or maybe it was the rain — for when she reached the driver’s door she turned to see Xiao Ling hurrying meekly after her. And then she regretted her anger and impatience, trying to remember just how frightened and disoriented the girl must be. But always getting in Margaret’s way was an image of Xinxin, the daughter from whom Xiao Ling had simply walked away. Her own child, a child that Margaret had grown to love. Whatever else Xiao Ling might have done in her life, whatever pain and indignity she might have suffered, Margaret found it almost impossible to forgive her that.

Billboards on stalks grew like weeds along either side of the freeway, increasing in density the closer they got to Houston. Fast food joints jostled for space, shoulder to shoulder, like so many immigrants — Chinese, Mexican, Italian — fighting for custom against such well-established American citizens as McDonald’s and Cracker Barrel. A battle between burgers and Beijing duck, French fries and fajitas. Margaret and Xiao Ling drove in a silence broken only by the windshield wipers, a distinct tension between them. Traffic flow on the interstate artery carrying them into the heart of the city was slowing down in the rain, like blood thick with cholesterol. Margaret was distracted by a car tailgating her, about two feet back from her rear fender. If she had to brake suddenly she knew its driver would have no time to slow down, especially in the wet. It would certainly plough into the back of her. She saw a gap on the inside lane, flicked on her turn signal, and swung into it, leaving space for the car behind to pass. But when she checked her mirror, she saw that it had followed her and was still occupying the same space on her tail.

‘For Christ’s sake!’ she muttered, drawing a look from Xiao Ling who immediately saw her preoccupation with the rear-view mirror and turned to look at the car behind. But she had no clear view of its driver through the rain-spattered rear windshield. Margaret indicated again and pulled out to the middle lane. The car behind followed. Margaret did not even have time to form an oath before Xiao Ling screamed, a shrill exhalation of fear that was almost deafening in the confined space.

Margaret looked at her. She was sitting rigid, staring straight ahead at nothing, all colour drained from her face. Beyond her, something caught Margaret c’s eye and she jumped focus to see a green Lincoln travelling level with them in the inside lane, its driver grinning at them through his window, a mouthful of bad teeth in an unpleasant Chinese face.

‘Ma zhai,’ Xiao Ling whispered. She was clutching her seat, rigid with terror, afraid to look out of the side window.

‘What the hell’s ma zhai?’ Margaret said, and she had to make a fast steering correction to avoid crossing lanes. For a split second she almost lost control of the Bronco. ‘Jesus!’ Heart pounding, she glanced in the mirror and saw that the car behind had gone. And then almost immediately she was aware of it sitting level with them, at her side. A white Chevy. She flicked the passenger a quick glance. Another Chinese. But this one wasn’t smiling. He drew a finger from left to right across his throat. Now Margaret shared Xiao Ling’s fear. She clutched the wheel tightly. This was ridiculous. They were in the middle of a freeway driving at fifty miles an hour into the fourth largest city in America. What could these people possibly do to them? What did they want to do to them? And why? Xiao Ling seemed to know who they were, but Margaret wasn’t going to get any sense out of her. As long as they didn’t stop, she figured, they would be safe.

They covered the next mile flanked by the two cars, Xiao Ling whimpering in the passenger seat, frightened to look left or right. Finally, Margaret could stand it no longer. ‘What the hell do these people want?’ she shouted at no one in particular, and jammed on her brakes. She heard a squeal of tyres behind her, followed by the piercing blast of a horn. The Chevy and the Lincoln shot several car lengths ahead of them, and Margaret swung the Bronco violently across two lanes. More horns sounded as she squeezed into the exit lane, just in time to get on to the slip road that took them down on to the four-lane highway that ran parallel to the freeway.

Breathing hard, Margaret took them into the inside lane and slowed down to a sedate forty miles an hour. She checked both mirrors, and glanced over to the traffic speeding past on the 45. There was no sign, through the spray, of either of the cars whose presence had been so intimidating on the interstate. Margaret glanced over at Xiao Ling and saw that she had relaxed a little, and she let a tiny jet of air escape through her pursed lips in relief.

They continued parallel to the freeway for several more miles, through junctions and under flyovers. Eventually, when there was still no sign of the Lincoln and the Chevy, Margaret began to relax, too. As they approached the next junction, she indicated left and pulled across to the exit lane that would take them back on to the interstate, and they picked up speed again, the cluster of glass tower blocks that was downtown Houston appearing now on the horizon. The sky overhead was so swollen and bruised, it had almost turned day into night. The headlamps of the traffic reflected off the wet surface of the road. Forked lightning lit the blue-black void beyond the skyscrapers. Fifteen minutes later, the road took them around the centre of the city, past Sam Houston Park and down to a huge intersection where they turned off on to the 59 and then the 288. Shortly after, they left the freeway altogether and drifted down on to North MacGregor Boulevard, overhung by the dripping trees of Hermann Park. They curved gently through lush, manicured lawns on to Braeswood and the stop lights at Holcombe. Rain drummed on the roof of the Bronco.

Margaret glanced at the car in the outside lane, and felt fear like a blade pass through her. It was the white Chevy, and the Chinese who had made the slash-throat gesture with his finger. She looked in her rear-view mirror and saw the green Lincoln on her tail. It flashed its lights, just to let her know it was there. Xiao Ling had not seen them yet. Margaret looked up at the traffic lights overhead. They were still at red. And then back at the Chevy. The passenger opened the left-hand side of his jacket and started drawing what looked like a gun out of a holster. Margaret jammed her foot on the accelerator, and the Bronco lurched forward, snaking through the red light, wheels spinning in the wet. Xiao Ling let out a yelp of surprise and clutched the edges of her seat. Horns blared as cars crossing the intersection swerved to avoid her. She heard more squealing tyres, all the time expecting someone either to hit her, or for a bullet to come crashing through the window. She cleared the lights and accelerated down Braeswood, looking in her mirror to see if anything had followed them, and when she saw that the road was empty, allowed herself to draw breath. Xiao Ling looked terrified.

‘Ma zhai,’ Margaret said, still with no idea what it meant. But Xiao Ling nodded.

Margaret took a left into William C. Harvin Boulevard. Flanked by trees and puddles in sprawling parking lots, she felt the almost overwhelming relief of getting on to home territory. At the end of the boulevard, in the middle of the road opposite the entrance to the Joseph A. Jachimczyk Forensic Center, she saw the glass security booth with the silhouettes of two armed officers inside it. She rounded it, cutting left across the central reservation and into the car park on the south side of her office building. There was a space there reserved for the chief medical examiner. She drove into it and cut the engine. For a moment she just sat there, and then leaned forward to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. Her legs and hands were trembling. Xiao Ling was looking at her in a state of high anxiety. She had no idea that they were safe here. Margaret exhaled slowly, and then took a long, deep breath and sat up. As she opened the door and stepped out on to the wet tarmac, she saw the Lincoln and the Chevy pull up on the other side of the boulevard.

‘Oh, my God!’ she whispered, almost frozen to the spot by fear as the car doors opened, and four young Chinese in dark suits stepped out on to the road. She flicked a glance at Xiao Ling who had climbed out of the car and stood on the far side of the Bronco looking at them, a creature immobilised by fear, capable neither of action nor reaction. Her hair was streaked down her face by the rain, her dress soaked already and clinging to her slight frame.

The security guards in their glass booth were engaged in some private conversation involving much laughter. They were oblivious to what was going on outside.

The four Chinese simply stood there in the rain, their car doors wide open, looking across at Margaret and Xiao Ling. They gave no indication of wanting to do anything other than stare, and something in Margaret finally snapped.

‘What the hell do you want?’ she screamed through the rain. And she started across the car park toward them. Her first few hesitant steps turned into a brisk walk and then, as all four Chinese turned and got back into their cars, a positive run. Doors slammed shut as she sprinted through the downpour, and even as she made it to the boulevard the Lincoln pulled away from the far side, followed by the Chevy, and they headed off at speed toward the junction with Old Spanish Trail.

Margaret stood, dripping, on the sidewalk, tears of rage and fear streaming down her face. She felt almost as if she had been violated by their silent intimidation and frustrated by her inability to confront them. She knew what she had done was crazy. What if they had simply pulled out guns and shot her? And yet, she also knew that if you didn’t confront your fears then they could crush you.

‘You alright, ma’am?’ It was one of the security guards calling over from the shelter of his booth.

‘No thanks to you,’ she shouted, and turned and strode back to where Xiao Ling stood waiting for her, marvelling either at her bravery or her stupidity.