The Interior

21

DAVID MOVED SWIFTLY TO THE PHONE. "ANNE?" After a long-distance delay, Anne's voice came floating over the line. "Is this David Stark?"

"Yes."

"I've wanted to talk to you and apologize for how I acted at my brother's funeral. I think anyone would have been upset. But when we heard the circumstances-that he'd been killed instead of you- well, I, we…"

David listened impatiently while Anne struggled with her apologies. He was chafing to go. Yet these few seconds gave him a chance to take stock. Where was Hulan? She'd been awfully quiet. His eyes scanned the room. Henry was still at the door, ready to bar it again if they tried to leave. Miss Quo was looking nervously out the window. And Hulan had sunk into a chair and appeared to be dozing. The skin on her neck and arms looked pale, while two bright blotches of color heightened her cheeks. A new and completely different wave of concern swept over him, but he tuned back into the phone call as he began registering Anne's words.

"I thought he'd gone to you for help. I thought, now isn't that bad karma? I mean, you go to someone for help and you end up getting killed. That's why I was so rude."

"He didn't come to me for help," David said. "I invited him to dinner. I wanted some information-"

"I know that now," she said. "But at the time I was only going off what Keith had told me. He called me that day. We were very close, and whenever he had a problem he'd call. He was troubled. He said he was going to meet a friend, someone he could talk to. He had dinner with you, so I just assumed that…"

As on the day of the funeral, David felt that there was no reason to ruin the Baxter family's memories of their son and brother. "We just had dinner-"

"I know, I know. All I'm saying is that when I saw you at the funeral, all I could think was that you hadn't helped him. I'd told him before to go to the FBI. He'd laughed at my ignorance. He said he didn't need the FBI; he needed the State Department. Then he told me that he had friends down at the U.S. Attorney's Office who might put in a good word. But he didn't go to you."

No wonder Keith had acted so strangely that night. He was ready to throw away his career by going to the feds to rat on his client. "Was it about what was happening with the Knight deal?"

Even over the thousands of miles David heard Anne's deep sigh. "It was about his girlfriend. She was Chinese. He wanted to bring her over here. He thought political asylum might work."

David couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Anyway," Anne continued, "that day at the funeral I was angry at you for not helping him, but actually it was someone else. I met him there."

There was only one person at the funeral to whom Keith might have gone. "Rob Butler," David surmised.

"That's right. He came up and introduced himself. He said he'd tried to do what he could for my brother. Do you think he tried to help?" Anne asked.

David thought back to his last meeting with Rob and Madeleine. He'd asked them point blank what they thought about Keith's death. They both said that they thought it had been a botched attempt by the triads to kill David. He'd also asked if Keith was under investigation. Again, both Madeleine and Rob had said no. Why hadn't Rob mentioned Miaoshan? (It had to be Miaoshan.) If he thought she was eligible for political asylum, it must have been because Miaoshan could offer something-the proof of the Knight-Sun bribery. Would Rob have lied to David? And for what reason? Keith was dead. The girl was also dead, and her papers were in China. There was no case without evidence. Most important, had Keith used Miaoshan to circumvent getting in trouble himself? He offers up the girl, lets her hand over her information about Sun and Knight, and he walks away clean?

"Hello? Are you there?" Anne asked.

"I'm sorry," David said. "I was thinking. I have so much to ask you, but…" He saw Miss Quo staring out the window. She didn't seem to be panicking. "Things are a little crazy here."

"That's okay," Anne said. "Before you ask me anything, let me explain the real reason I'm calling. My brother sent me some papers before he died. They were here when we got back to Russell. I don't know what they are, but he put a note on them. 'If something happens to me…' Can you imagine what it's like to get something like that in the mail? My brother was dead! It's been like some horror movie, only we can't turn it off or walk out of the theater."

"What are they?" David asked, although he already suspected what they were.

"Pages and pages of numbers. They don't mean a thing to me, but in the note he wrote that they were a key."

A key? Miaoshan had her set. Sun had his. Now it appeared that Keith also had his own set. Could it possibly be a key?

"Anne"-he tried to put as much conviction into his voice as he could-"about the papers…"

"You're going to tell me about the girl and how Keith wanted to marry her."

No, he wasn't, but he let it go for now.

"We're from Kansas," Anne went on. "We don't see a lot of Asians where we live. But our feeling was that if Keith was in love, that was his business. We'd do our best to welcome this Meow-meow. Even her name was foreign to us. I mean, it wasn't really Meow-meow, but it sure sounded like that to my dad, so that's what we've been calling her around here. Anyway, you can see why we thought it was a good thing they'd be living in L.A. They have all sorts of people out there, and they wouldn't have stood out so much."

David and Hulan had known that Miaoshan was having an affair with an American. They'd thought it was Aaron Rodgers-and maybe she'd still had an affair with him-but Keith was who mattered. He must have met her during his regular pre-sale visits to Knight International. Keith and Miaoshan? Why hadn't David seen that from the beginning? When Miles had said Keith's girlfriend wasn't from L.A., David had assumed that she'd been a hometown girl. That image fit with what he knew about Keith. Even now it was hard to imagine his friend, who was overweight and in his late thirties, with an eighteen-year-old Chinese factory worker. Of course, things like that did happen. It was called a mid-life crisis. The manipulative Miaoshan must have seen Keith as incredibly gullible. And she'd pushed at that gullibility by asking for and receiving all kinds of gifts-the fancy underwear, the jeans, the makeup, the… Suddenly he remembered the sickening sweet smell at the funeral and what Hulan had said about Miaoshan's bunk.

"Do you wear White Shoulders?" David asked Anne.

"Yes, my mother and I both do," she answered, surprised.

"Keith must have had it bad." It slipped out before David could stop himself.

"He was head over heels," Anne said. "My parents and I hadn't seen him-I mean, we only talked to him on the phone or over the Internet, but you know what I mean-that lovesick since eighth grade when he'd gone gaga over Maryellen Sanders. He was calling me all the time, wanting to know what he should get her. I even bought a few things for her myself. And she must have felt the same way. Meow-meow gave Keith all sorts of things."

"Like the papers," David concluded. "Anne, can you fax them to me? You probably don't have a fax, but you could send them at Kinko's. Do you have a Kinko's in Russell?"

"I don't have to go looking," Anne said, a tad indignantly. "We may be in Kansas, but I still have a fax machine. Here, hang on. I'll send it through. Give me your number."

David gave it to her. Anne said she was going to put down the phone for a second and would be right back. He heard the thump of the phone hitting what he'd imagined was a quaint kitchen counter and realized, given his many misconceptions about Anne and her life, that she was probably in her fully outfitted office. A minute later, Anne picked up the phone.

"It's not going through. Give me the number again."

David repeated it, then Anne said, "Yeah, that's what I dialed. Twice.. Check your machine."

He went over to the fax. Everything looked fine. Miss Quo came away from the window and doubled-checked. It was plugged in; there was paper. Then Miss Quo picked up the line. She paled. "It's dead," she said.

"We need that fax!" David exclaimed.

"I've got a fax on my you know what," Henry said, motioning to the walls. "I'll get you your fax, if you come with me to Taiyuan."

But Henry didn't need to resort to this kind of bribery. If Anne really did have a key, then maybe this would all become clear. It was a risk, but at this point everything was a risk.

"Give me the number," David said.

Henry did, and David in turn recited it to Anne. When he was done, Henry added, "Tell her to wait awhile. I've got to get my guys together and the electricity on before we can receive."

David passed on Henry's comments, then said, "I don't want to sound melodramatic, Anne, but if anything happens to us, will you get those papers to Rob Butler? Tell him… Tell him… Anne? Anne?" But the phone had gone dead. The line had been cut.

David set the receiver back in the cradle. He tried to maintain some semblance of calm, knowing that fear would dull their senses. "We really need to go," he said.

They gathered up their belongings and headed for the door. David looked back. It had been a nice office and a nice attempt at a new life.

Quo Xuesheng still held her post at the window.

"Miss Quo?"

She turned to face him. "You go ahead."

"Don't be foolish," Hulan said harshly. David realized it had been a long time since he'd heard her voice.

Miss Quo straightened her shoulders, crossed the room, and took Hulan's good hand. "You're right. I shouldn't run away. I've done nothing wrong. Thank you, Inspector, for giving me courage. I'll tell my father that you have, as always, been a good friend to our family."

David wanted to argue with her, but determination had formed as hard as stone just under his assistant's blotchy and swollen skin.

"Go on," Miss Quo said, walking back to the window. "I'll stay here. When they come, I'll tell them something."

It was a vain hope for delay. With the phone lines cut and the possible monitoring of the office, their movements were probably already known, which might make this whole venture futile.

"Good luck," David said, then closed the door behind them.

Henry wanted to take his car, but Hulan overrode him and they piled in with Investigator Lo, because she thought the small insignia on the car might give them some authority. (On the other hand, if the cameras that were set up at the major intersections were already alerted to look for them, then they would be exceptionally easy to follow. But Hulan decided it was a risk worth taking.) As soon as they were in the car, Hulan handed Henry her cell phone. He spoke elliptically, saying that he'd like his crew to get the electricity running, hoping they would interpret that to mean they should get the plane fueled and ready as he'd be leaving town shortly.

Then, as they headed across town, making for the expressway that would take them to the airport, David reported his conversation with Keith's sister. When he came to the end, Hulan, who'd revived slightly, said, "Suchee-everyone actually-kept saying Miaoshan wanted to go to America. I thought it was a dream for her, an unrealistic dream. Peasants never leave. It's even hard for them to get away from their villages and go to a big city, so how could she ever think she would get to the U.S.? But obviously she had a plan."

"Do you think she loved Keith?"

Hulan thought about Miaoshan, then said, "On the surface she seemed a typical peasant girl. But again and again she has shown a deep capacity for deception and manipulation. With Tsai Bing there probably was love, but they'd known each other from birth and grown up together. Theirs was a familiar love. Knowing they were to be married, they'd had sex as comfortably and unemotionally as an old married couple."

(Now, that was a worldview that under different circumstances David would have pursued with the woman he planned to spend his life with, but now wasn't the time.)

"Tang Dan?" Hulan continued. "Who can tell? Maybe Miaoshan wanted the experience of an older man. Maybe she feared she'd never get out of the countryside and thought that at least she could marry the richest man in the county. That story is common the world over."

"What about rape?" Henry asked. He didn't know who this Miaoshan was, but he was intrigued.

"Could be," Hulan answered. "Rape is probably the most taboo subject in all of China. It's the worst shame. If she'd been raped, she would never have said a word." Hulan paused. "But I think not. Siang, Tang's daughter, said she saw them together. She was disgusted, but I don't think she would have mentioned it if there'd been a struggle. No, it wasn't rape."

"Guy Lin loved her," David said. "There's no question in my mind about that."

"Who's that?" Henry asked.

"He's the one you've seen on television with Pearl Jenner," David responded simply.

"Yes, he loved her," Hulan concluded. "But he lost his usefulness when she no longer needed him. Which brings us to Keith."

Hulan's mind felt clouded by the heat and humidity. She looked at the others. They all seemed to be waiting for her to continue. With great effort she gathered her thoughts and asked, "Did Ling Miaoshan-beautiful, manipulative, cruel in matters of the heart-actually love Keith Baxter-a man twice her age from a culture that was immensely foreign yet at the same time attractive to her?" Hulan let the question hang in the air, then resumed after a moment. "I've slept in her bed. I've smelled the White Shoulders on her sheets and in her pillow. I've seen the things he gave her folded in their tissue and wrapped in their ribbons. I've thought a lot about what she had to have done to be with him-repeatedly sneaking out of the dormitory, changing her clothes and her entire appearance to be more comely to him, and keeping the secrets of those papers when she was killed. Yes, I think she must have loved him. Was it a true-heart love or a simple infatuation that would have changed over time? I don't know. But I think she was in love. What about your friend? Could he have really loved her, or was it just sex?"

"He was ready to bring her home to meet his family," David said. "He was trying to get her out of the country. He may have been crazy, but I think he must have been in love too."

David turned and looked out the window. Hulan could see the impatience in his features. The traffic wasn't moving at all. She leaned forward and spoke a few words into Lo's ear, urging him to find another route. When she sat back, David said, "But to what lengths was he willing to go? When I was talking to Anne, I thought Keith had given his papers to the government. This would have violated his duty as an attorney, but I think they would have been enough to get Miaoshan out. If they are some kind of key, they would have opened a massive federal investigation into… Well, into your company, Henry, and Tartan. Seven hundred million is a lot of money. The Tartan and Knight stockholders would need to be answered to. There would have been the various corruption charges."

"I'm telling you, Sun is innocent," Henry repeated for what seemed the millionth time this morning.

"Sun wouldn't have been the target of a federal investigation, Henry, but you and to a different extent Tartan would have," David said. "But Keith didn't give the key to Rob. Keith loved Miaoshan, but he wasn't willing to sacrifice everything he'd worked for to have her."

"Then why was he so upset the night you had dinner with him?" Hulan asked. "If he'd made his decision, why worry?"

"Because Pearl already knew about Miaoshan's papers and probably told him so," he answered. "Because Keith knew that he'd lost the love of his life, that everything was going to come to light, and that there wasn't much he could do about it."

Henry cleared his throat. "I'm not used to this sort of thing, but if you don't mind my saying so, I think how Miaoshan got those papers is important."

David and Hulan looked over at the older man questioningly.

"If what you say is true-that none of this would be happening if that Pearl woman hadn't gotten these papers-then whoever gave them to Miaoshan in the first place had a strong motive to destroy…" He faltered, then finished up with, "To destroy me, I guess." David instantly thought of how Sun had used those exact same words last night. Henry went on uncertainly. "I mean, wouldn't you have to say that was the case? That this was some kind of plant by Tartan to get my company on the cheap?"

David and Hulan looked at each other, absorbing this new angle. Then Hulan leaned forward again and spoke in rapid Mandarin to Lo. He made a U-turn, swerved up a side street, and began beeping the horn.

"What's happening?" Henry asked.

"We've got to get over to the Holiday Inn," Hulan said. "What you say has truth. Part of that truth is that Pearl and Guy have accomplished what the killer wanted them to do. Since that's so, their lives are in danger. We must try to warn them."

"That snake of a woman?" Henry asked.

"Um," Hulan agreed, "but we must."

A few minutes later, they arrived at the downtown Holiday Inn or, rather, they got within a few yards of it. Police cars and ambulances blocked the parking area and porte-cochere. Bellboys in bright uniforms decorated with gold braid and passersby gawked as the managers of the hotel argued with the policemen to please move their vehicles. Amidst all this was a large contingent of plainclothes agents from the Ministry of Public Security.

"We're not going in there!" Henry half yelped when he saw David open the door. "You have to figure they're dead, right? We're too late."

Hulan grabbed his arm and gave the older man a not-so-gentle push. "We're absolutely going in there, Mr. Knight, and you're going to lead the way. You're the VIP-er. Do what you're supposed to do-bluster, bluster, bluster. We'll be right behind you."

And so, with Henry Knight out in front, they walked straight into the air-conditioned lobby of the hotel. When a young Beijing policeman tried to stop them, Henry said imperiously, "I don't understand." When the policeman, seeing that Hulan was Chinese, said they weren't permitted to pass, she looked at him uncomprehendingly, and David said, "We're in a hurry! Business meeting! Foreigners! Foreigners!" Henry boldly pushed past the policeman and walked to the bank of elevators with David and Hulan following close behind. As the elevator doors closed, they saw the policeman face front as though he'd never let anyone past.

"Which floor?" Henry whispered, then colored as he realized no one else was on this car.

"We'll go to the top and work our way down the stairs," Hulan said.

Of course, the stairs weren't air-conditioned, and by the time they'd gone down five flights they were all sweating. Hulan worried about Henry-a heart attack was the last thing they needed-but he seemed spry enough. On the other hand, the same lethargy that had gripped her in David's office now came back full force, and she wished she could step into one of the air-conditioned hallways, find a room, and lie down.

They continued down, opening the fire doors and checking for activity. On the ninth floor they found what they were looking for. Hulan wiped the sweat from her forehead with a tissue and said to her companions, "Follow me, but don't say anything."

She pulled out her MPS credential, stepped into the hallway, and walked purposefully down the hall. A policeman sat with his back against the wall, looking green, beside him a splash of vomit. A few of his buddies stood around in support, offering by turns cigarettes and bottled water. But the truth was, they looked none too well themselves. It must be bad, Hulan thought, very bad.

At the door to the room Hulan held up her credential, although the person guarding it was well known to her. Yang Yao had worked at the Ministry of Public Security for almost thirty years, but he'd never risen above the rank of investigator third grade. An announcement of his impending retirement had recently circulated around the office. It was about time. Still, Hulan had hoped he'd be here. Yang was slow and infinitely dumb, which was why he was always assigned to watch the door instead of investigate. He nodded to Hulan and made not one movement and said not one word to prevent the foreigners from going in after her.

The smell of death even in this highly air-conditioned environment assaulted them: the rustiness of blood, the sour odors of excrement, the nervous perspiration of the officers in the room. All death was gruesome-even for those who supposedly died peacefully in their sleep-but even Hulan, who'd seen more murder scenes than she cared to remember, had a hard time processing what had happened to Pearl Jenner and Guy Lin.

They were on the double bed together, both naked. They looked to be involved in some sort of sexual act, although Hulan couldn't fathom the wheres and hows of such an act. Pearl 's wrists and ankles were bound together behind her by a length of rope. The rope had also been looped around her neck, stretching her whole body back-knees pulled open to accommodate the inhuman position-so that her private parts would have been totally exposed if not for the other victim positioned against her. From the knots that bound Pearl 's ankles, the rope led to the other victim. Guy Lin was bound in much the same position, his loins pressed to Pearl 's.

In her weakened state Hulan felt the blood drain from her head, and she thought she might faint. Then behind her she heard shallow panting. With great effort she pulled herself together and turned to escort David back out of the room. Only it wasn't David. He was fine-as fine as could be expected given the spectacle-but Henry had gone completely white and was trembling like the old man he was.

"Investigator Yang," Hulan commanded imperiously. "Take this man to the hall. Find him some tea and a chair." Yang did as he was told. As she turned back to the hideous tableau, she saw that David had edged closer to the bed where Pathologist Fong squatted, gloves on, bifocals perched on his nose. When Hulan approached, Fong looked up and beamed.

"They always send you out to see the pretty ones, hey, Inspector?" Fong said in heavily accented English for David's benefit. Fong didn't stand up. He never liked to be reminded how much shorter he was than Hulan. To cover this, Fong cocked his head back toward the bodies. "Foreigners," he grunted. "The propaganda tells us they are decadent, but you have to see something like this before you really believe it is true."

"How long have they been dead?" Hulan asked.

"That's my inspector!" Fong announced cheerfully to the room. "We have a case of autoerotic death, and she wants to know how long they've been dead!"

Some of the others in the room, who were dusting for fingerprints, looking through luggage, and picking through the trash receptacle, chortled. Hulan was not amused.

Fong rocked back on his haunches. "Two hours at most."

"How were they discovered?"

"The maid came in. Imagine what she thought!" Pong grinned again, then finally turned serious. "Last year I went to an international symposium on forensic medicine in Stockholm. They had a panel on autoerotic death. I went-curious. I had never seen a case myself, but I'd read about it in foreign literature."

He pointed at the bodies and assumed a scholarly tone. "You see how it works, don't you? With every one of his thrusts, her ropes are pulled tighter. Every time he pulls back, his ropes are pulled tighter. The lack of air is supposed to heighten sexual pleasure. People die like this all the time in the West," he said more in wonder than disapproval.

Neither Hulan nor David enlightened Pong about his misconception.

"But you see the problem, don't you, Inspector?"

Hulan stared at the bodies. The faces were purple. Pinpricks of broken blood vessels dotted the whites of their eyes, their faces and necks. Hulan shook her head.

Pong glanced over at David. "But you do."

"I think so," David said. "I understand the anatomy of what's happened here, but who tied the knots?"

"Precisely!"

Hulan, blaming her queasiness on her pregnancy, looked numbly at the two men, while David wondered where her mind was. She was usually so far ahead of him in these matters.

"Pretend you're going to have this kind of sex," David said. "You want to heighten your experience of orgasm. You cut off your partner's blood supply. Maybe she cuts off yours. Maybe you rig something that will help both of you. But look, Hulan, look at how they're bound. Once she's tied, she can't tie him and there's no way he could do that to himself. It's murder made to look like a sexual mistake."

"I agree," Pong said. "But when I get them back to the lab, I will test for semen just to make sure. I will send you the report…"

These words jolted Hulan. Pong didn't know about her problems. Either that or he knew but chose not to mention them, which was completely out of character. When things were bad, her colleagues enjoyed making furtive asides just loud enough so that she could hear them. But this morning no one had stopped her or even questioned her about the story that was on the television and in the newspaper. This could only mean that Zai or someone higher wanted her to see this.

"One last question, Pathologist Pong. Has the team found a satchel or any papers?"

"Passports and the like. It's a very clean room except for this." With that, Hulan pulled on David's sleeve. Without good-byes they left the room, picked up a pale Henry Knight in the hall, rode the elevator down, and walked back into the brutal heat without one person stopping them or making a single comment.

"Did the same person kill all of these people?" David asked when they got back in the car.

"I think the better question is, are we supposed to think so?" Hulan replied. "Are we supposed to take that scene at face value-a mistake of sexual deviance? Or are we intended to recognize it as a cleverly staged murder?"

The car pulled onto the toll road. The traffic cleared immediately, and Lo was able to drive at a steady, though still restrained, pace.

"I assumed murder," David said, "because it was so obvious, so dramatic. He wanted to flaunt what he was able to do."

"Jesus Christ!" Henry exploded. "What's wrong with you people? What we saw in there… God, it was horrific!"

"Is it the same person?" David repeated, totally ignoring Henry's outburst.

"If you look at the modus operand!, it could be. Suffocation has been the key. Miaoshan-hung from a rope. Pearl and Guy-also hung by a rope."

"But Keith and Xiao Yang were different," David said.

"Yes, theirs were more physical deaths-hitting someone with a car, throwing someone from a roof. To me, those murders imply a person with a desire for a physical act, while the suffocation and ropes suggest a tighter mind, someone who wants to be hands-on during the project, someone who wants to feel and watch the breath stop. So to my mind, this could be one person who's acquired a taste for murder and is embellishing the methods by which he kills, or it could be two or more people. We just don't know yet."

The car slowed as it got off the toll road. The airport wasn't set up for private planes. There was no VIP lounge or even a private airfield. Instead, those few people who flew into China on private or government jets used a side entrance-the same one used by maintenance-to reach the tarmac. Up ahead they could see the guardhouse that protected that entrance and the two People's Liberation Army soldiers in their summer greens with machine guns draped over their shoulders flanking it. Lo asked, "What do you want me to say?"

Hulan looked over at Henry. "You know what to do," she said.

Henry shrank into his seat.

"You want to help Sun?" David asked. "The only way we're going to do that is if we get on your plane."

Henry nodded, resigned. It was one thing to talk bravely about saving an old friend, David thought sympathetically. It was another to risk arrest in China.

The car moved forward. When they reached the gate, Henry pushed a button and his window glided down. The guard approached, surly and stiff, but before he could speak, Henry snapped his fingers and said loudly, "Come over here, boy."

The guard glanced over the roof of the car at his companion. What impertinence was this? his look seemed to say.

"Don't dawdle!" Henry blasted. He hit the side of the car with his fist. "Come here!" The guard swaggered over. Henry pointed right at the guard's chest, an insult of the highest order. "You! See that plane over there?" Henry dragged his finger away from the guard to the direction of his plane. "That's my baby. Let me pass!"

The guard bent down to see who else was in the car. Henry pressed a button and the tinted window rolled up. The guard banged on the window and started yelling. Lo kept his eyes forward. David and Hulan pretended they didn't hear a thing. After a moment Henry cracked the window an inch or so.

"Get out of the car," the guard said in Mandarin. To emphasize his point, he tapped the muzzle of his machine gun on the glass.

"No speakee Chinese!" Henry yapped. David groaned. "Now look, buddy," Henry went on. Somewhere along the way he seemed to have added a broad Southern accent. "I'm a personal friend of President Jiang Zemin. Jiang Zemin! Get it?" Henry snapped his fingers in the guard's face, each time rapping out, "Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!"

The guard, flummoxed by this spectacle, motioned to the other guard. The gate rose, and Lo stepped on the gas.

Henry sank back into the leather seat. "You wanted bluster. I blustered."

"You did a good job," Hulan said.

"I acted like a total asshole and thoroughly insulted your countrymen."

"It worked," she replied.

The car stopped next to the plane. The pilot and copilot stood at the bottom of the stairs, sweating in the sun. "We're ready to go, sir," the pilot said.

"Just get us out of here as soon as you can," Henry said, and with that they boarded the plane.