The Risk Agent

35

12:45 P.M.

HONGQIAO DISTRICT

“Goddamn Chinese,” Kozlowski blurted out to his wife as he hung up the phone.

“Honey!” She motioned to their daughter, Tucker, who was playing on a DSi.

“It’s Saturday,” he said, “of a national holiday weekend, and of all the days, the lab chooses today to return a forensics report.”

“So they’re working. But you’re not.”

“If only.”

“Please.”

“I have to. There’s a heavyweight cop involved with this. And Knox. You know Knox.”

“He’s in trouble?”

“He is. Up to his keister. I should have never answered the phone.”

The call had explained that the severed hand retrieved from the Yangtze was cut from a dead man, not a living one. The DNA IDed him as a Caucasian with O-negative blood. Flesh burns on the wrist were consistent with chemical burns. Soil samples taken from beneath two of the fingernails returned high traces of heavy metals: mercury, lead, cadmium, chromium and arsenic.

“Which means?” Kozlowski had asked the lab technician.

The man replied: “These metals are in densities twenty-three percent higher than Shanghai garden soil.”

Shanghai garden soil? Who the fuck asked about Shanghai garden soil?

“This is soil from Chongming Island.”

“Say again,” Kozlowski said.

“Soil on Chongming Island is the only location for a radius of several hundred kilometers with this same approximate concentration of heavy metals.”

Kozlowski swallowed hard. He’d had two men following Inspector Shen Deshi since their meeting at the KFC. His men had lost him to a river crossing in the storm but had reconnected and followed him onto Chongming Island.

“What kind of chemicals, exactly?” Kozlowski had asked, continuing the conversation.

“In combination with the chemical agents discovered on his wrist: sodium hydrosulphide, soda ash and sodium metabisulphite. I might suggest a livestock tannery.”

“A tannery on Chongming Island,” Kozlowski had mumbled.

“Correct,” the lab man said.

Kozlowski had hung up fearing Shen Deshi was about to beat him to the physical evidence of an American videographer’s murder. Evidence the man would destroy as quickly as possible. Any chance at justice lost.

Kozlowski made contact with his two agents.

“He’s in a police precinct in Chongming.”

“Stay with him,” Kozlowski ordered. “If he so much as farts, I want to hear about it.”