The Interior

7

WHEN THE PHONE RANG, DAVID KNEW IT HAD TO BE HULAN. It had been four days since they'd spoken, longer than any time since he'd left Beijing. "Where are you?" he asked. "I've been worried."

"I'm fine."

"I have so much to tell you," he said. She did too, but what he said next made her stories seem unimportant. "I'm coming, Hulan. I'll be in Beijing…" He paused to calculate the time and the dateline, and said, "Day after tomorrow."

"How? What for?"

"I have a job. I'm moving to Beijing."

She heard static on the line; then she asked with deliberation, "Is this the truth?"

He laughed. "Yes! Yes!"

"Oh, David. I can't believe it." Then she asked again, "How?"

He started four days back with Keith's horrible death and what that meant about the triads and the FBI surveillance. He confided in her his concerns about Keith and what he'd read in the paper. Then he told her about going back to his office the day after the funeral…

He'd picked up his voice-mail messages, including one from Keith's sister. "I'm sorry about yesterday," she said. "We're going home today, but

I'd like to talk to you about Keith when you have a chance." She left her home number in Russell, Kansas, then closed with, "I hope you'll call."

At the time he'd had no desire to hear more of her recriminations, so he'd written the number down and put it in his briefcase.

A few minutes later he'd walked down the hall to U.S. Attorney Madeleine Prentice's office. She was blonde, beautiful, smart, and politically astute. Rob Butler, the chief of the Criminal Division, was also there. David had known Rob since law school. They'd played tennis together for years. Like Madeleine, he was a brilliant lawyer. David needed to clear up one aspect of Keith's death before he made any other decisions and hoped now to confirm what Miles had told him after the funeral.

"What can you tell me about the Keith Baxter investigation?" he asked.

"There isn't one," Madeleine responded.

"It was in the paper yesterday," he said.

"Don't believe everything you read in the papers," Rob said. "Haven't you learned that yet?"

David ignored the barb. "He was accused of doing something in violation of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act."

"Bribery?" Madeleine asked.

"I assumed so, but I don't know."

"Well, it's not in our office," Madeleine said. "We haven't had a single Foreign Corrupt Practices case since the statute was written."

"Maybe his name has come up in another matter," Rob suggested.

"But we don't have any bribery cases right now," Madeleine said.

"What about in the Washington office?" David asked.

"Your friend lived in L.A., right? If he was up to something, don't you think Washington would tell us?"

David still didn't know what was bothering Keith, but if Miles said there was nothing to worry about, and Madeleine and Rob verified that, then he could move on-emotionally and perhaps professionally. Except…

"Can I ask something else? Do you think Keith could have been the target the other night and not me? I mean, the Rising Phoenix has had lots of other opportunities. So why now? Could there be some connection between Keith and the triads? He was doing work in China…"

Madeleine sighed. "David, you know what happened that night. Accept it, then put it behind you."

David looked at Rob, who said, "She's right."

David considered, then announced, "Miles Stout has asked me to set up an office in Beijing."

Without hesitation Madeleine asked, "How soon?"

"I'd leave in a couple of days."

"A week or two's notice would have been nice, but it wouldn't be the first time an assistant left on the spur of the moment," Madeleine said. Then eerily echoing Phil Collingsworth, she added, "When it's time, it's time."

David laughed and shook his head. "What's this? Here's your hat, what's your hurry?"

"Not at all, David," Madeleine said. "It's a practical move for you. More than that, I'd call it wise. You've finished the Rising Phoenix trials, so if you have to leave suddenly, this is a good time to do it. For the office, I mean," she amended. "Obviously we'll hate to see you go, but there are other things to consider. You've got people after you. We can surmise it's some last vestige of the Rising Phoenix. Can we prove it? Not yet. Is there any evidence that points directly to them so that we could get a wiretap and go roust some folks? No. So what you're looking at is uncertainty and having those Feebies following you around. You can't tell me you like that."

"I don't, but should I run away to China?"

"You're not running away," Madeleine said. "You're getting out of harm's way so the FBI can do its job and find those assholes."

"But China? The Rising Phoenix is a Chinese gang," David pointed out.

"Based in Los Angeles," Madeleine added as if David didn't know. "There may be a few hotheads still hanging around the city, but there can't be any left in Beijing."

David knew this was true. The gang members in China had been caught. Those who'd confessed had been treated leniently with hard labor in China 's hinterlands. Those who hadn't had been tried, sentenced, and executed.

"Even if they aren't all dead," Rob added, "the Chinese will be able to protect you in a way that we simply can't."

David hesitated. There was one more question he had to ask, but it wasn't an easy one to ask of friends. "This isn't some setup, is it? You aren't trying to get me into something I don't yet know about? We've been down that road before and-"

"David," Madeleine interrupted wearily, "just get out of here. Be safe…"

The taxi's windows were open, and hot hair blew across Hulan's face. She gazed out over the fields, thinking of the time she'd spent in the U.S. Attorney's Office with Madeleine Prentice and Rob Butler earlier this year, and of the life that David would be giving up to come here. "You love being a prosecutor," she said into the phone receiver.

"Yes, but I don't look at that work the same way anymore." He was referring to the case that had brought them back together. Both of their governments had played them for fools. She'd expected it; he hadn't. She'd accepted it; he felt betrayed.

"Have you spoken to Miles again?" In her mind's eye she conjured up Miles's handsome face. He'd always been nice to her-he was polite to everyone-but she'd always felt uncomfortable around him, probably because she'd never been able to read behind his smooth Nordic exterior.

Picking up on her tone, David said, "I'm not particularly fond of Miles either, and frankly I sense a certain ambivalence in him about this arrangement too. But the firm is made up of many people. Phil and the others have been great, but you guessed right. My negotiations were with Miles. After my meeting with Madeleine and Rob, I met Miles for lunch to go over the particulars. He said he'd give me free rein. 'Sink your teeth into it. Run with it. The Knights are good people…'"

"The Knights?"

"Remember the factory you asked me about? The firm wants me to handle the sale of Knight to Tartan, then stay on-"

"David, you don't know anything about those people or their business. I've seen things-"

"Look, they don't need to be my friends. They sell, we buy. Hell, in twelve days Knight won't exist anymore except as a division of Tartan. Don't you see, Hulan? I'll be going to China with business. I won't just be representing Tartan, but other business the firm has lined up. Marcia, Miles's secretary, has already set up appointments for next Monday. Don't ask me where they're going to be. I don't have an office yet." Hulan had many questions, but David just kept talking…

It was amazing how easily he walked away from one life and into another. After lunch he'd gone back to the firm with Miles. Just as Keith had said on the night of his death, the offices of Phillips, MacKenzie amp; Stout hadn't changed. The public areas were dark, plush, and conservative. Each partner was given an allowance to decorate his or her own office, which meant that there was a little of everything-from Louis XV to Early American, from mahogany to bird's-eye maple, from cheap posters to original Hockneys on the walls. As a partner in the top echelon, David was entitled to a corner office on any of the firm's five floors, the top of which was the acknowledged power center. But since David was going to China, he was assigned a large office between Miles's on one corner and Phil Collingsworth's on the other.

Under ordinary circumstances the partners would have needed to meet to vote on accepting a new partner, but, as Phil had pointed out the day of the funeral, everyone here knew David. A few phone calls to the executive committee resulted in a unanimous decision. Five minutes later Miles asked David for his passport, which he pulled out of his breast pocket. Miles laughed when he saw it and said, "I guess I should have negotiated your points a little harder." Both men had laughed then, for there was no denying that David had wanted to go back to China from the first moment that Miles mentioned it. The senior partner gave the passport to his secretary and told her to hustle down to the Chinese consulate for a visa. After that Miles and David joined Phil and some of the other partners for an impromptu champagne toast. It had felt like old times…

"Did you ask about Keith?" Hulan interrupted. "What do you mean?"

"About the bribery?"

David's voice was lost in static, and she asked him to repeat his answer.

"I asked Miles, and I talked to Madeleine and Rob about it too. They all said something along the lines of you can't believe everything you read in the papers. After what you and I have been through, I have to agree. I can't remember the last time I was quoted correctly."

"I don't like it," she said.

Even over this great distance she heard him sigh.

"What part?" he asked, the pain in his voice palpable. "Is it that you don't want me in China?"

"That's not it at all," she said quickly. "I love you. I want you to come, but I don't like what I've seen at the Knight factory and-I don't know-this is happening so fast. Miles never does anything without deliberation."

"But that's what I've been trying to tell you. Miles isn't the only voice here. Everyone at Phillips, MacKenzie has been thinking about this for a long time." His voice faltered, and she understood how deeply she'd hurt him. "It's sudden," he said, "but it's an opportunity. It's our opportunity." His words got lost in another wave of static, then: "No more bad connections, just the two of us together."

"When does your flight get in?"

"Seven-fifteen on the tenth," he said, then clarified, "your Thursday."

"You may beat me back to Beijing," she said. Hulan had yet to tell David about the peculiar circumstances of Miaoshan's death, the strangeness of the Knight compound, or her now postponed plan to go into the factory, but she would when they met in Beijing. "I don't know how easy it will be for me to get back to the city, but I'll try to return in time to meet your plane. If I'm not there, I'll send my new driver. Don't worry, he'll find you."

They spoke for a few more minutes, then David said, "Soon we'll have all the time in the world to talk, but I should go. I have to be at Phillips, MacKenzie in the morning. I have a lot to do tomorrow to close up this life. We're going to be together, Hulan. We're going to be happy."

Suddenly that old caution crept back into Hulan's voice. "I hope so, David, I really hope so."

They hung up, both knowing that a lot had gone unasked and unanswered.

The next day David spent his first hour back in the luxurious fold of the firm with Miles's secretary. Marcia explained that she would handle David's time sheets and billings from here. She'd manage his workload when he was in town and take care of personal things like forwarding his mail to China. She'd also make sure that he received all interoffice memos in Beijing-or wherever in the world he happened to be-and that any phone calls that did come in for him were routed to his as-yet unknown number in China. She told him that the firm had just hired a Miss Quo Xuesheng as a secretary and interpreter in China. Miss Quo was already scouting out office space and setting up appointments for him upon his arrival.

Then Marcia left him alone with several files, which would bring him up-to-date on the firm's overall business and strategic plan. At noon, David swung back down to the U.S. Attorney's Office, where Rob and Madeleine held a farewell gathering. Then he went back to Miles's office for a final briefing on the Knight matter.

"I've handled business for Tartan and Randall Craig for twenty years," Miles said. "The Knight deal is a great opportunity. There's a lot of money involved-seven hundred million-but not much can happen now to sour the deal. We're at that point where the sale has its own momentum and we're just along for the ride."

"Are there any problems I should know about?"

Miles shook his head. "Smooth sailing. Henry Knight is a widower and has one grown son. Henry's an ethical guy, a lot like you actually. He's run his business cleanly even when he could have made shortcuts here and there. Top profit has never been his main motivator."

But the factory was in China, David pointed out. That had to cut costs.

"Sure," Miles said, "but that's just a side benefit. He sees himself as a philanthropist. He's given money to hospitals, children's organizations, various shelters. For Henry, China 's just another cause. He's always loved the place. I don't know. It goes back to the war, I think. Anyway, he thinks he's helping the people he hires. Having come from a farm myself, I know what a shit life that can be." Miles shrugged as if to shake away the memories. "When you get over there, you'll meet Governor Sun and his assistant, Amy Gao. They're with the local government."

"You've met them?"

"I met Sun on my first trip to China, but otherwise I've just dealt with his assistant. She has a Chinese name, but like so many of them she goes with an American version of her first name and puts her family name second. Amy Gao is a smart woman, ambitious. She's come over here, been up at the firm. You'll like her. If you have any problems, talk to her. I'll come over for the final signing." He paused, then said, "Now, don't get worried that I'll be butting in. This is your matter now. I mean it when I say go with it. Although I can't say there'll be much to go with. The work is done. All we need now are the John Hancocks. And as far as that goes, I couldn't miss the final signing. Randall Craig and Tartan have been a big part of my career."

That night, after David finished packing, he tried calling his parents, but they were both out of the country. His father, an international businessman, had separated from David's mother shortly after David was born and played little part in his life. David's mother, a concert pianist, was on tour. David left messages on each machine, then went to bed.

The next morning, Eddie-having promised to house-sit for as long as David wanted-drove him down to LAX. At eleven-fifteen David boarded a 747 and sank into his first-class seat-one of the many perks of being back in private practice. He remembered back to just four and a half months ago when he'd been on this same flight. He'd been nervous and unsure of what to expect. He'd plotted every move, using his legal background to logically plan his life. He'd hoped that somehow he would see Hulan, not knowing at the time that others had long planned their meeting. Looking back, he saw someone lacking in spontaneity, afraid of living on the edge, often in the position of reacting instead of setting things in motion himself.

Four months later he was a very different man. Sure, he still sought his friends' counsel and advice before making a decision. (He was cautious. He always would be.) Most definitely he'd haggled over his compensation, firm points, title, and expenses. He'd also thought a lot about Keith's death. Was David running away now to escape his guilt? But Madeleine and Rob were right. With him out of the picture, the last of the Rising Phoenix renegades might make a mistake. When they did, the FBI would be there.

As for what had troubled Keith on that last night, David might never know the full story. Clearly an ethical issue had troubled Keith, but maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought; maybe he'd been more upset about his girlfriend's death but didn't know how to talk about it. And maybe, David thought ruefully, Keith had just been tired and stressed, worn down by these brutal transpacific flights and the strain of the deal. What mattered now was that David had found an honorable way to get back to Hulan.

Although David had tried these last two days not to read too much into their last phone call, he wondered what Hulan hadn't told him. When he'd said he was coming and she'd asked, "What for?" it had momentarily taken his breath away. Then he'd decided to take her query at face value. He hadn't told her his plan from the beginning, thinking that if it didn't work out she'd be disappointed. But as their conversation went on, he couldn't help but hear her wariness. Maybe that was just Hulan. She was always so guarded, always afraid of the ways that good things could be ruined by bad. Despite this, he convinced himself she was glad he was coming. He knew he could make her happy. In a few more hours they would be together with no ocean or secrets between them.

When he'd last flown out of Beijing it was March 1. The sun had just begun to warm the city, but the vacant land between the runways had still been frozen hard and the airport had been cold and damp. On July 10, at a little before midnight, as the plane taxied to the terminal, David looked out the window and saw men working under the lights wearing only loose shorts, sandals, and earphones to block the noise. When the door of the plane swung open, a wall of heat and humidity flowed into the first-class cabin.

David took a place in line for passport control behind another business traveler and watched as the back of the man's shirt quickly darkened with sweat. An officer dressed in a drab green short-sleeve shirt took David's passport and leafed through the pages. He briefly looked up, compared the photo to David's face, stamped the book, then handed it back without a word. David grabbed a luggage cart, loaded his bags, passed through Customs, then pushed his way through the exit and to the curb, where a man dressed in a black suit stepped forward and extended his hand.

"I am Investigator Lo," he said in heavily accented English. "I am here to drive you to Inspector Liu's home. She arrived a short while ago and is waiting for you there. She has instructed me to take you to your appointments tomorrow."

A few minutes later Lo threw the car into gear, honked his way through the airport, and roared onto the toll road. This route didn't offer all the sights of the old road, which ran parallel to this one, but within twenty minutes Lo had reached the city. Even at this late hour the streets were awash in neon, filled with people walking and on bicycles, and aromatic with the rich smells coming from street vendor carts. Soon the car began snaking its way through the narrow alleyways of Hulan's hutong neighborhood. The car pulled to a stop before a simple wood door set in an austere gray wall.

Lo unlocked the gate, handed David his bags, and said good night. David stepped over the threshold into the first courtyard, and his nostrils filled with the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine. He wandered farther into the compound, past the first, plain courtyards, then into the more elaborate courtyards, past colonnaded buildings that had once housed the many generations of Hulan's mother's family, and finally to the door of Hulan's quarters. It was unlocked and he walked in.

He very much felt her presence in these rooms. Her scent hung lightly on the air. There was a bowl of oranges on the table and a silk blouse draped over the back of a chair. David's longing for Hulan was greater now than during all the months of separation. He stepped into the bedroom and saw her in bed, waiting for him. He stripped, sank onto the bed, and wrapped his arms around the woman he loved. She nuzzled into him. Her body was warm and her words were tender. Soon their murmured words were replaced by soft groans of pleasure.

David marveled at the changes in Hulan's body. Her breasts felt larger under his fingertips. Her stomach-always hard and flat-had a gentle swell. He let his tongue and lips move lower, constantly aware of her breathing, listening to the changes that would signal she was ready for him. Finally her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him back into her arms. She wrapped her legs around him, guiding him into her. Her eyes met his, and he knew he was truly home.

David was wide awake at three the next morning. He nudged Hulan. Without opening her eyes, she kissed him and snuggled closer. He listened until her breathing deepened again, then slipped out of bed, made himself a pot of tea, pulled out his laptop, and checked his e-mail. Just before dawn, he put on trunks and a singlet, and set off for a run. By six, he was back at Hulan's. At about the time he stepped out of the shower, the yang ge troupe began banging its cymbals and drums somewhere in the far distance. Despite Hulan's grumblings by phone, her descriptions of the troupe had sounded colorful and quaint, but David didn't go out to investigate, knowing his appearance would attract too much attention. So he made another pot of tea, rummaged through cupboards for crackers, and peeled himself an orange.

At eight, when Investigator Lo arrived to take him to his appointments, Hulan still hadn't wakened. David kissed her gently, then quietly left the compound. Lo drove him to the Kempinski Hotel in the Chaoyang District. In the lobby he was met by a pert young woman, Miss Quo Xuesheng, a Chinese national and until now the only employee of Phillips, MacKenzie on Chinese soil. She wore a bright red suit hemmed well above her knees. Four-inch high heels brought Miss Quo to a still petite height of five feet two inches. To David's eyes she looked very young. In a few questions he determined that she wasn't a lawyer by training, but she did have a lot of experience with foreign companies, for which she'd worked for several years, perfecting her English and working her way up from tea girl to secretary to personal assistant.

"Our first appointment is to look at an apartment and office space in the Kempinski's business complex next door," she said as she led the way back outside and across the hot asphalt to an adjacent high-rise.

"I don't need an apartment," David said, but he was about to have his first lessons in doing business in China. First, Miss Quo had very strong ideas about what foreigners wanted and needed. Second, she was not easily swayed by his opinions or, as he would later find out, direct orders. Third, foreigners who wanted to set up businesses in Beijing were easy marks for every manner of scheme and bribe.

The next three hours were spent going in and out of buildings, up and down elevators, listening to the attributes of particular complexes and neighborhoods. The buildings followed one of two models: either separate structures within the same compound for housing and offices, or both together in the same building. After the Kempinski they got back in the car and drove a few blocks and into a motor court that looked uncomfortably familiar. "This is the Capital Mansion," she said. "Again, you can have housing and office space. I believe this is best for you."

"I don't want to be here," David said, vividly remembering the body that he and Hulan had found here not so long ago-the intestines splayed out, the blood, the smell.

"Because of what happened before," she said amiably. "This I understand, but I have already begun our arrangements."

"Undo them."

"See the rooms, then we'll decide."

David followed Miss Quo, but he barely paid attention to her or the building's director of real estate. When David stepped back outside, Miss Quo stayed behind to talk to the realtor, who was obviously agitated. David wondered just how far the negotiations had gone and if they had gone as far as he suspected, why? As Hulan often said, there were no secrets in Beijing. Certainly Miss Quo seemed to know a lot about him. Clearly she knew about the murder of Cao Hua in this very building. Wouldn't she know this place would upset him?

At last Miss Quo came through the revolving door, got in the car, and snapped out some orders to Investigator Lo in Mandarin. Their next stop was the Manhattan Garden residential complex next to the Chaoyang Golf Course. David explained once again that he didn't need an apartment, but Miss Quo smiled, pretended she didn't understand him, and went on to show him the Manhattan Garden, followed by the Parkview Towers in downtown Beijing, the North Star Commercial and Residential Community, where a thousand foreign families lived and many more worked, and the Bright China Chang An Building, which housed numerous foreign enterprises including Citibank, Samsung, and Abdul Latif Jameel Co., Ltd.

At this point Miss Quo took him to the coffee shop in the Palace Hotel. Miss Quo waved away the menus and ordered in Chinese. Hoping for dumplings or noodles, David was disappointed to have a club sandwich with some limp french fries placed before him. Miss Quo seemed to know almost everyone here, and she waved friends over to meet David and explain that he was opening an office. Each time before they left, she said, "Attorney Stark is a good friend to China, as I'm sure you already know. If you ever need help with business transactions, he will be happy to assist you." She placed a business card with David's name and that of Phillips, MacKenzie amp; Stout in English and Mandarin into each palm. "We will have our office soon," she said. "Until then you know how to reach me." Then there were more handshakes, words of congratulation, and promises of receptions and banquets.

After lunch, he was taken out as far as the Woodlands. Billed as "villas in a resort-like setting," they seemed to David more like tract housing in the San Fernando Valley. Then it was on to something called Beijing Riviera, which boasted luxuriously furnished resort homes complete with central air conditioning, steam showers, Jacuzzis, and heated towel racks. From here they swung back to central Beijing and the Evergreen Gardens. "This is a wonderful place for families," Miss Quo explained. "I don't have a family," David said.

Miss Quo's face crinkled. Between her giggles he ascertained that rentals were $18 U.S. per square meter for lease or $1,188 U.S. per meter if he wanted to buy. He would have needed a calculator to figure this out, but it seemed expensive. But all the prices seemed either confusing or staggering. At the Beijing International Friendship Garden, David was told that he could make "a fifty percent investment and realize a hundred and twenty percent realization of aspiration"-whatever that meant. During the day, as he'd tried to pin down actual prices, he'd heard everything from a low of $6,000 U.S. to a high of $12,000 U.S. a month for a suite with one office and a reception area for Miss Quo.

"You're telling me that in a city where the annual income is- what?-about a thousand dollars, that I have to pay this much for a couple of rooms?"

Miss Quo smiled prettily. "These are your choices. Which one do you want?"

But this was nothing compared to the exorbitant sums that were thrown around for what he considered basic office necessities. Installing a phone line ranged from a paltry $20 to an outlandish $1,400. A fax line cost even more. If he wanted a telex machine, one could be brought in, he was assured, but this too could range anywhere from $100 to $2,800. Even basic essentials like electricity weren't fixed and depended on the building, on the development company's representative, and on Miss Quo's rapport with that person. And they hadn't even gotten to the question of a car and driver.

At four, Lo dropped Miss Quo back at the Kempinski, then edged into the thickening late afternoon traffic. David closed his eyes and dozed off into a jet-lag nap. The next thing he knew, the car had pulled to a stop and someone had opened his door. He felt cool breath on his cheek, then heard Hulan say, "Wake up, David."

As soon as they were inside the compound with the door closed behind them, David took her in his arms, burying his face in her neck. He pulled away and looked down into her face. She was beautiful. She took one of his hands, and together they wordlessly walked to her quarters at the back of the compound. In her living room they kissed. There was no need for words: they were desperate for each other's touch. Hulan pulled at his shoulders, edging him quickly into the bedroom.

Several hours later they lay entwined in one another's arms. They were parched, exhausted, and happy. Finally Hulan got up, slipped on her silk robe, wandered out to the kitchen, and came back with glasses of cool mineral water and a tray laden with grapes, slices of watermelon, and slivers of orange. She placed the tray on the sheet, puffed up the pillows, and propped herself up next to David.

"So," she asked, "how was your day?"

He told her how he'd been pushed in and out of buildings by a highly organized little demon named Miss Quo.

"You're very fortunate to have Quo Xuesheng," Hulan said, breaking off a piece of watermelon.

"You know her?" David asked rather dubiously.

"Since she was a baby. She's the daughter of the minister of the Foreign Enterprise Service Corporation. You were assigned someone very high up. You must have very good guanxi," she said in mock serious tones, then popped a grape into her mouth.

"You arranged this?"

"You have to hire someone. You might as well have a friend. After I got off the phone with you, I called Miss Quo's father. The minister was very happy to place his daughter with you."

"Do the people at Phillips, MacKenzie know?"

Hulan shrugged.

"And she's a Red Princess?" David asked.

"In two ways. Her grandfather was on the Long March, while her father has made millions in his government position."

"So she knows who I am."

Hulan smiled and nodded.

"And she knew perfectly well that I didn't need an apartment."

"Um, I don't know about that. That may have been a test for both of us." She leaned over and reached for another grape. As she did this, her robe fell open, exposing the curve of her breasts. "It wouldn't be a bad idea for you to take a small apartment just to keep gossip down."

"Will it be better for you?"

She closed her eyes and played out different scenarios in her head. When she opened them, she said, "Take an apartment, but you'll live here."

"She showed me space in the Capital Mansion."

Hulan shook her head and laughed. "That's because she lives there, just like Guang Henglai and Cao Hua did. It's very popular with the young crowd."

"Well, I'm not going there."

"No, of course not. I know a good space for you. It's not fancy, but it is close by. We'll look at it tomorrow."

"Okay, but I don't want to pay through the nose."

Hulan smiled. "It's not you. It's the firm."

"Still, I don't like to be treated like a sucker."

"You'll be treated like a foreigner no matter what."

"Which means getting fleeced?"

David told her about the prices that he was expected to pay for a fax line.

"That's not so bad," she said. "Consider this: Until a couple of years ago, foreigners could only send faxes during the day because the government surveillance people who monitored the lines all went home at five."

"But that's no longer in effect?" he asked, relieved.

"No, it's still in effect. We just have people working all night now."

"They can't possibly monitor every fax!"

Hulan shrugged again, and a little more flesh was exposed. "Believe what you want to believe." She pulled another grape from the stem. This time she slipped it and the tip of her index finger into David's mouth. "If you think that's unfair, think about what you-or rather the firm-must be paying your Miss Quo."

But David didn't respond with words, overcome as he was by the reflexive stirring he felt in his loins. Hulan let her finger languidly trace a path from his lips, down across his chest, to where the cotton sheet edged against his skin. Her voice was husky as she said, "The typical translator makes about seven hundred dollars U.S. a month of which the state-run agency receives about six hundred and thirty dollars. Then you look at someone like your Miss Quo, a Red Princess, very well connected. Phillips, MacKenzie is probably paying her a hundred thousand dollars a year." But David had heard enough. He covered her mouth with his, and they continued a far more intimate conversation.