White Tiger

CHAPTER 14

The way Wallace paused in the rest room doorway to check whether any of the stalls were in use, and if anyone was outside in the hallway, warned Ryker that this wasn’t a social call. Wallace was a big man in every sense of the word. His fat gut fooled a lot of people, but beneath that flab lay thick muscle spread over a solid frame, which added up to substantial strength and power. Ryker had heard stories about Wallace slapping suspects around to get answers, and he believed them. Not that this made Wallace a bad cop in Ryker’s eyes. Name me a cop who hasn’t leaned on some junkie punk who deserved all they got. What made Wallace a bad cop was his inability to sense where lines existed-to perceive that some rules were etched in stone, never to be bent or broken. The irony of it was, Ryker had no choice but to bend a couple of rules himself in response to what was coming next.

Ryker shook his hands dry and watched Wallace’s reflection as the rest room door swung shut with a soft click. “Ryker, you goddamn pussy. Where the fuck do you get off, reassigning everyone’s caseload?” Straight to the point, no beating about the bush with Cueball.

“I guess you weren’t listening when Lieutenant Furino told you this comes direct from the captain,” Ryker said, taking out his comb and running it through his hair. He had an unsettling feeling that his hairline had retreated slightly since this time last year. He’d need to see an old photo of himself to be absolutely certain, but his suspicions were aroused. Another sign of impending old age, just what he needed. He vowed to suck the barrel of his own gun on his next birthday-unless somebody gave him a really nice present, in which case he wouldn’t.

“You and Spider can dress it up any way you like. You think I don’t know it’s down to you? You son of a bitch.”

Ryker put his comb away. He loosened his tie, slipped it off, tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Maybe I am, but your momma wore Army boots, and your daddy was a bunch of soldiers,” he said. It didn’t matter what reply he gave; Wallace’s stance, his tightly clenched fists and his reddened face had provided all the clues that were needed. This conversation could only end one way, as incredible and as infantile as it seemed. Wallace’s anger and aggression filled the room. All that was missing was steam coming out of his ears.

Wallace grabbed Ryker’s shoulder and pulled, turning him around to set him up for a haymaker. Ryker was pretty sure Wallace would hold back, since he didn’t want to be charged with murder, but that proved academic as Ryker caught Wallace’s wrist and slammed the heel of his hand into the startled cop’s elbow, straightening his arm with an audible pop. Ryker drove the toe of his shoe under Wallace’s right kneecap, gave him a little push under the armpit to totally wreck his balance, then dropped down and swept him off his feet with savage force, far more than was needed. Wallace’s legs pointed at the ceiling and his head and shoulders hit the tiled floor hard enough to shake the building.

Ryker put his tie back on and straightened it in the mirror. He took some toilet paper from a stall dispenser and blew his nose. He dropped the makeshift handkerchief into the trash bin on the way to the door, stepping around Wallace, who lay on the floor curled up like a baby, his useless arm cradled against his chest. “Listen up. You make any more chink jokes when Chee Wei’s around? I’ll tear you a new asshole.” Wallace didn’t reply. Ryker opened the door and went out.

Morales stood waiting for him by the coffee machine, a puzzled look on his face. “What was that noise? Sounded like something really big hit the deck.”

“Cueball’s just taking a dump,” Ryker said. Chee Wei entered the detective room, saw Ryker and headed his way. “You got something?”

Chee Wei offered Ryker a couple of sheets that were paper-clipped together. He recognized the lab header and snatched the sheets out of Chee Wei’s hand. He scanned the report, hoping for something major. Instead he only found disappointment. It was by no means the full criminologist’s report; the sheets only contained the results of Miss Xiaohui Zhu’s swab-semen, positive, Mr. Daniel Lin-and blood tests on her skin and on the clothing she’d worn to the Mandarin Oriental-negative, no trace. Since these tests were relatively simple they had been rushed through ahead of the others, for which Ryker supposed he should be grateful. But the report shut a door in his face. It suggested that Xiaohui Zhu hadn’t cut off Danny Lin’s dick, nor had she climbed onto the bed or onto him to perpetrate the knife thrust to his heart that had killed him. No spatter, no smear. She was clean.

Morales sipped his coffee. “Doesn’t look like she’s your girl, unless DNA and other tests show up with something radical.” Ryker nodded thoughtfully. Morales headed back to his desk. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since returning from court. Ryker would grab him later and give him the opportunity to get his frustrations out.

“We’re fucked,” Chee Wei said, meaning the report.

“That’s the technical term,” Ryker agreed easily. “How about we have another cozy little chat with Miss Zhu anyway?”

“Suits me fine. What’s the angle?”

“Daddy Lin is the angle. She knew the son. I wonder if she knows the father?”

Chee Wei grinned. “You mean in the Biblical sense?”

Ryker chuckled at the joke to mask his trembling reaction to the close encounter with Wallace in the rest room. Norris, Seagal, Van Damme, Jet Li and the rest made it look easy in the movies, but the amount of adrenalin pumping through Ryker’s system would take time to dissipate. He was glad Morales hadn’t offered him a coffee, he would have spilled the damn thing all over the floor.

They made their way downstairs to the holding pen. Xiaohui Zhu’s room was almost comfortable, with cushions on the benches and a window that couldn’t be opened, but let in natural light and gave an illusion of freedom. After peeking in on her and earning himself a frosty glare, Ryker greeted the veteran sergeant, Hoffer, who manned the desk and kept track of the division’s latest customers. They’d known each other back when Ryker drove a black-and-white. “Hey, Hoff. Where are the donuts?”

“I’m looking at one right now,” Hoffer shot back without hesitation. Chee Wei snorted.

“Everybody’s a comedian. We’re here to see Miss Zhu. The Danny Lin case.”

“Oh yeah, the dick murder.” Hoffer made a chopping motion with his hand. “Hell of a way to go.” He checked his book. “Zah-hoo Soo? Is that how you pronounce it?”

“Close enough,” Chee Wei said, though Ryker knew he could have belabored the point and given Hoffer pronunciation lessons.

“Her lawyer’s on his way down. You want to wait for him?”

“We’ll keep her company until he gets here,” Ryker said, not relishing the prospect of meeting Victor Chen under any circumstances. “Bring her into one of the interview rooms, will you? We’ll have three coffees. And don’t forget the donuts. I know you’re hiding them somewhere. The ones with the pink icing and the sprinkling.”

“Sure thing. You want me to suck your dick too?”

“Now you’re spoiling me.”

They found a vacant interview room and waited while Xiaohui Zhu was brought from her cell by a female cop. Ryker nodded his thanks. Xiaohui’s gaze darted around the room, as if she was surprised to find they were alone. She wore standard issue cotton shirt and pants, and a pair of light sneakers without laces. Her jewelry was missing, of course. Everything that could be used as a potential tool to commit suicide resided in an envelope under lock and key in the store room behind Hoffer’s desk.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Chin is on his way,” Ryker said. “We’ll be talking to him in just a minute. Sit down, Miss Zhu. Make yourself comfortable. As a matter of fact, I was just talking to someone else who knows you. We had a meeting upstairs. James Lin. He says hi.”

A fearful expression passed across Xiaohui’s face. Ryker tried not to loathe himself for what he was doing. Icy bitch or not, she didn’t deserve to be scared. At his invitation she lowered herself into a chair.

Chee Wei stood silently by the door in perfect voyeur’s position, his eyes glued to the woman. If she even noticed him she gave no sign.

“Miss Zhu, I’m going to come right to the point,” Ryker said. “I don’t think you murdered Danny Lin, and the forensic evidence supports this. There was no blood on your clothing or upon your person. And the medical examination confirmed exactly what you told us.” She looked up at him with big eyes filled with relief. “I’m sure Mr. Chin has been giving the D.A. all kinds of hassle to get you released. He’s right, we have no evidence. Right after we talk, I’ll get the paperwork stamped. It shouldn’t take long.”

“If you had listened to me in the first place, I would not have had to suffer the indignity of arrest. My own family thinks I am a criminal! And a woman calling herself a doctor physically assaulted me.”

“For which I apologize,” Ryker said, wondering how many lesbian porno flicks Xiaohui had starred in where much, much worse had been inflicted upon her. “I’ll call your sister if you like, and explain our mistake. It’s the least I can do.”

She hesitated, thinking about that, then shook her head. “There is no need for you to trouble my family further. I will do my own explaining.”

Ryker wasn’t in the least surprised. “Great, but if there’s anything I can do, let me know, won’t you?” She afforded him a curt nod. Ryker looked at his watch, looked at the door, sat down opposite her. “Tell me something, Miss Zhu. Did you ever have any dealings with James Lin? What I mean is, did you ever meet him when you were in Danny Lin’s company?”

“Lin Dan would never have introduced me to his father.”

“Oh, sure. I wasn’t thinking. No, I just wondered if you’d met him, perhaps at a social occasion, even if he didn’t realize you and Danny were seeing each other. It just seems to me, and I hope you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Zhu, that you are an extremely attractive woman. Please don’t be offended. It’s just, well, it strikes me as strange that Danny would hide you away in a hotel room. I can’t imagine doing that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not having some kind of midlife crisis fantasy here. But if I were with you? I’d make damn sure everyone knew about it. I’d be parading you up and down the street. I’d be taking out ads in the paper. That’s not poetic enough. Let me try again. You grow the world’s most beautiful orchid, you don’t keep it in your greenhouse. You take it to the world orchid championships so people can admire it.”

Ryker feared he’d gone too far, that his rhetoric might have alerted her to his deep sea fishing. But she showed no sign of suspicion. If anything, in fact, she seemed more relaxed and at ease, as if she found herself in agreement with what he’d said. Perhaps she’d thought exactly the same things herself whenever Danny Lin invited her to a champagne-and-cum session in the Taipan Suite? Was there ever a hooker in all of history who didn’t imagine herself standing by the side of her sugar daddy, elevated from sordid mistress to respected wife? Ryker was willing to bet hard cash that at some point in their relationship, Xiaohui had lain beside a thoroughly exhausted Danny Lin and whispered sweet nothings into his ear about how he must be crazy to stay with a wife who didn’t understand him, and failed to cater to his every bizarre sexual fantasy, like she did.

Which thought gave rise to recent memories of Valerie Lin, who didn’t look anything like Xiaohui, whose flawless beauty was undeniable. Yet the widow Lin had popped Ryker’s cork just by breathing. Would he feel differently about Xiaohui if he hadn’t met Danny Lin’s wife first? Somehow he doubted that. Some people were just incompatible with each other. He recognized the fact he was absolutely wrong for Xiaohui and she for him. Valerie Lin, on the other hand-

“We did meet,” Xiaohui said. “Just once.” She stared at the table top. “At a reception. For businessmen. From Beijing and Korea.” Her hesitant delivery made Ryker think she was recalling the memories only with difficulty. “Lin Dan’s father thought I was the wife of one of those present. But the wives would not speak to me. Lin Dan realized it was a mistake. Realized the risk he was taking. His father would be angry if he found out. He arranged for me to be taken by taxi to the hotel.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Perhaps a month ago. Longer. Six weeks.”

“Here in San Francisco?”

She frowned, puzzled. “No. Shanghai.”

Ryker sensed Chee Wei’s curiosity from across the room but didn’t look at him. “Aside from the businessmen, Miss Zhu, was anyone else there?”

“The senator,” Xiaohui said, as the door opened and Victor Chin entered carrying a leather briefcase. The Chinese lawyer looked from Ryker to Chee Wei, and was not happy.

Ryker stood and said, “Mr. Chin, we were just telling your client she’s no longer a suspect. We have no reason to hold her. I’m going to talk to the desk sergeant, get the paperwork pushed through.”

“And you are?”

“Detective Sergeant Hal Ryker.”

“Ah. We’re going to sue you for wrongful arrest, detective sergeant. Your unforgivable victimization has caused my client considerable distress.”

Ryker had been expecting something of the kind, and was a long way from shocked. “Make sure you invite the press along to the court hearing, Mr. Chin,” he said. “We’ll give them a good story. How Danny Lin flew a high-class hooker in from Shanghai whenever he felt horny. How they both got high as a kite on coke, and she fucked him senseless in a thousand-dollar-a-night hotel suite overlooking San Francisco Bay. How she stars in low budget porno flicks whenever she’s over here, just to earn herself some lipstick money.”

Xiaohui looked shocked; Chin didn’t bat an eyelid. He said, “I think we both know the consequences of such a story ever being released. A certain party would destroy your career.”

“Along with yours. Might be worth it, just to see the look on your face when they tear up your license and run you out of the state.”

“Are you really so insane, detective sergeant?”

“Only when I haven’t had enough coffee. This is one of those moments. Don’t push me, Chin. First and only warning.”

Chin stared at Ryker for a count of five, then his lips twisted into a humorless smile and he said, “I think we might be inclined to drop the lawsuit. Assuming my client is released forthwith and receives no further harassment from the police.”

Ryker shrugged a shoulder. “Sure. Back in a jiffy.” Chee Wei followed Ryker out into the hallway, and closed the door.

“Bad timing, huh? Wonder who this senator is?”

Ryker thought about it for all of two seconds. “Might not matter. Lin hobnobs with the rich and shameless, so hearing a politician’s in the mix doesn’t surprise me.” He jerked his thumb toward the interview room. “But wants access to the girl. What do you suppose he wants with her?”

“To ask her what she knows about Danny Lin’s murder. What else?”

Ryker stepped up to the door so he could watch Xiaohui and Chin through the slit window. “You notice her reaction when I mentioned Lin’s name?”

“Yeah, she pissed her pants. What do you think she’d say if I asked her out on a date?”

“You’ve already got a hot date, remember? With that nice girl from Guangzhou.”

Chee Wei made a sour face. “You had to go and remind me, didn’t you? I got her e-mail address. My parents don’t know. I’m gonna give her the bad news tonight. Hey bitch, I don’t do arranged marriages, it’s over, deal with it.”

“You want some friendly advice?” Ryker winced inwardly. He’d almost said some fatherly advice. Jesus, he wasn’t that old. Not yet, anyway. “Don’t be so hasty. Ask her to send you a pic first. What if it turns out she looks like Miss Zhu? Or better?”

“Come on, what are the chances? I don’t need to see a picture, I know she’s a pig.”

Through the window in the door, Ryker watched as Victor Chin spoke rapidly while Xiaohui frowned and nodded her head a lot. Again she had a look of fear in her eyes. What the hell was he saying to her?

“That’s funny, I thought the Chinese ideogram for happiness was a pig inside a house?” Ryker said, even as wheels turned in his head and he figured it out. He rapped his knuckles on the door and opened it without waiting for a response. Xiaohui looked positively relieved to see him, which was a clue that he’d guessed correctly.

“My client can go now?” Chin said.

“That depends entirely on her,” Ryker said. He stepped into the room and moved away from the door so Chee Wei could see and hear. “Miss Zhu, you’re under no obligation to accept, but I’m offering you police protection. At least for the next twenty-hour hours. If you say yes, Detective Fong Chee Wei here will accompany you when you leave this building. He’ll stay with you and be your chaperone, until you say otherwise.”

Chin gaped, caught by surprise. Then he recovered his wits and snapped his mouth shut. Ryker saw doubt in his eyes and knew he’d guessed right. In the short time between the meeting upstairs and Chin’s arrival here, James Lin had made a phone call. Had he made Chin an offer he couldn’t refuse, appealing to his better nature, as had been suggested? Or had he threatened him, pure and simple? Ryker remembered the big Russian, and his tactics when he’d gone looking for Xiaohui in the Tenderloin. Cueball was big and mean but the Russian belonged in another class altogether.

“My client doesn’t need police protection,” Chin said. “Protection from what? Just what are you implying, detective sergeant?”

Ryker ignored him. “What about it, Miss Zhu? Mr. Chin seems happy to let you walk out the door and call a cab. There’s something you should be aware of. When we got to your sister’s there was a car parked across the street, a Mercedes, watching the house. Before that? The same car was at Roger and Vincent’s place.” Xiaohui’s eyes widened. “They’re okay. So is Suzy. She was very concerned for your safety. Frankly, so were we. The Mercedes peeled out before I got a chance to talk to the occupants. But I know who they are. They work for James Lin.”

“That’s enough,” Victor Chin said. “You’re trying to frighten my client. Your behavior is insufferable. I want the name of your superior.”

Xiaohui was frightened, all right. A pulse throbbed at the base of her throat. Ryker held the door open, an invitation for her to leave. She didn’t move. “Perhaps all Mr. Lin wants is to ask you about his son,” he said. “That’s understandable. But the fact is we’re no closer to finding out who killed Danny Lin. You were the only person seen entering the Taipan Suite with him. No one left after you did. The security tapes prove that. It’s looking as if a ghost cut off his dick and drove a knife clean through his heart, then vanished into the night. The question is, will James Lin accept that explanation?”

She bowed her head to hide her anguished expression. Her shoulders shook. Ryker wished he had another job; this one sucked. Victor Chin spoke a rapid stream of Chinese that was beyond Ryker’s ability to decipher. Xiaohui shook her head. Chin spoke again, louder this time, more insistent. Xiaohui shivered like a deer caught in a bright light. Chee Wei pushed past Ryker and took hold of Chin’s arm. He went nose to nose and said something that made Chin flinch. Xiaohui’s head came up and she looked from one man to the other, puzzled and relieved at the same time. Chin tore his arm free, snatched up his briefcase and walked out the door without even looking at Ryker.

Chee Wei crouched down beside Xiaohui and spoke in hushed tones that were clearly intended to reassure and relax. She listened to him and nodded several times. She said something that Ryker couldn’t catch. Chee Wei touched her shoulder, nothing sexual, simply more gentle reassurance. Her hand came up and covered his for a second before Chee Wei stood and turned to Ryker. His cheeks contained just a hint of a flush.

“Miss Zhu would like to accept our offer of protection. She is afraid of James Lin and what he might do to her, even though she played no part in Danny Lin’s death.”

Ryker nodded his approval. “I’ll clear it with Spider. You okay with the job?” What he meant was, Can you keep your python in your pants while you carry out your duty? And Chee Wei knew it.

“I’m okay with the job,” he said.

“Outstanding.” Ryker leaned into the room. “Miss Zhu?” She flinched when he said her name. “I’m going to leave you here with Detective Fong. I just have to arrange a couple of things. I’ll be back soon. Then you can both leave. All right?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Ryker took Chee Wei outside into the hallway, making sure that Xiaohui could still see him from inside the interview room. “What did Chin say to her?”

“He said it was only a matter of time before James Lin got her. She might as well go to him voluntarily. That if she tried to run or hide it would be worse for her. Can you believe that creep?” Ryker noticed Chee Wei was wound up tighter than a spring. “He said if she went back to Shanghai, Lin’s people would be waiting for her. He fucked with her head real good.”

Ryker watched Chin’s retreating back disappear through the security door at the end of the hallway. James Lin had got to him, all right. “And what did you say to him? You didn’t threaten him, did you?”

“No way. I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

“Things looked pretty tense there for a moment.”

“I might have suggested bad luck would befall him and all his generations if he didn’t get the fuck out of here, but that’s just a traditional Chinese way of saying goodbye.”

Under other circumstances Ryker might have smiled, but there was nothing funny about this entire situation, nothing at all. “When I give you the okay, take her back to her sister’s place. Call ahead and tell the sister you’re coming. I’ll ask Spider to call Taravel, arrange for a black-and-white to keep an eye on the street. You’ll be on the high priority watch list until further notice.”

Chee Wei let out a whoosh of breath. “You really think this Lin guy will send his goons after her?”

“To be honest? No. Victor Chin’s going to report what happened, and Lin’s going to come at this through the suits at City Hall. Jerko will chew Spider’s ass and he’ll chew mine. If we absolutely have to, we’ll arrange for Lin to see Miss Zhu, but on our terms. Until then, we haven’t got reason to keep her locked up here, so we keep her safe at home instead.”

“I don’t get it. You don’t even like her. Now you’re bending over backwards to make sure she’s okay.”

“I am a complicated person,” Ryker said. He clapped Chee Wei on the shoulder and went to square things with Hoffer. Then he went upstairs and sought Spider, who was in his office talking with Wallace. Ryker knocked on the door and opened it. Wallace glared at him over his shoulder, his jaw rigid and his eyes ablaze. Ryker took enormous pleasure in pretending he didn’t exist. “Sorry to interrupt, Lou. Got some news for you.”

“Wallace, give us a couple of minutes.”

Wallace looked as though he were about to argue, but instead he got up and left the office without a word. Ryker gave him plenty of room. Spider beckoned him in, and Ryker shut the door and took a seat. He explained what had gone down with Victor Chin and voiced his opinion that Chin was now working for James Lin, or at least could be presumed to be acting with Lin’s interests at heart. Spider took the news without reaction. Not so when Ryker told him that he’d offered Xiaohui police protection. Spider slapped his pen down, sat back and stared at him.

“We’re juggling manpower here so we can put maximum effort into solving this case, and you’re giving Chee Wei time off for babysitting duty? Jesus Christ.”

“She’s no baby. The lab couldn’t pin anything on her but she might still know something. If she does? She might just pucker up for Chee Wei. He impressed her in the interview room. Even if she doesn’t ante up, the situation is going to shake Lin. He might think she knows something we want to keep from him.”

Spider leaned forward, elbows on his desk, knuckles showing white. “Listen to me, detective sergeant. James Lin will have your head in a roll if you play games with him. I’m not sure I can stop that from happening. But that’s beside the point. You need a cataract operation. We’re not after Lin. We’re after whoever killed his son. I want Lin out of my life. That goes for Jericho, too. He’s already called me wanting an update only thirty minutes after the damn meeting broke up.”

“Then give him an update. We’re getting at the Zhu woman another way. We think she’s more likely to loosen up if we release her, but keep someone close to her. Meanwhile, we’re still looking at the hotel security tapes and interviewing everyone we can think of. Something’s going to break, Lou, and I don’t mean Cueball’s brain.”

“Funny man. All right, we play it your way, for now. Anything else?”

“Need you to call the Lou at Taravel patrol and assign a squad car to Chee Wei.”

“Just so you can needle James Lin.”

“Nuh-uh. To protect a frightened girl from a bunch of guys who might not respect her civil rights. That Russian guy traveling with Lin? He’s trouble. Our paths have already crossed. If we hadn’t put a patrol car out front, they would have snatched Zhu from her sister’s house. I wouldn’t like to bet what they would have done to her to make her talk.”

“No shit?”

“That’s the people we’re dealing with, lieutenant. Don’t let the suits and the polite crap fool you. James Lin is used to getting what he wants. Just ask Victor Chin.”

“I’ll make the calls. Oh, and stay out of Cueball’s way, he’s pissed as hell, got some crazy idea this is all your doing.”

Ryker left Spider to it and went back downstairs. On the way he remembered Sandra Raymond. He’d meant to call her again but the big meeting with James Lin and the city’s finest minds had derailed his train of thought. She’d missed the morning’s excitement. He called her now, and she picked up after the third ring.

“Detective Raymond. Missed you at the station house. Where are you?”

“Are you kidding me? I’m still at the Mandarin,” she said, sounding weary. “We’ve interviewed over fifty guests. You have no idea. These people have social secretaries. They won’t let me in their rooms without an appointment. ‘Come back later this afternoon.’ I’m like, ‘We’re investigating a murder here, open the fucking door.’”

Ryker squeezed into a corner to let a couple of female cops march a skinny junkie upstairs. “From the tone in your voice, I’m guessing no one saw anything.”

“Damn right.” Raymond sighed into her phone, venting her anger. “Hey, I talked to Morales. He said the surveillance video only showed the Chinese woman and morning room service. You’ve arrested her, haven’t you? So why am I still here?”

“You’re there in case someone reports seeing a ninja assassin climbing down the outside of the building.” Ryker almost missed his footing as the crazy thought solidified and hit him between the eyes. “Sandra, I want you to check with the manager. Find out who’s staying in the rooms beneath the Taipan Suite. Go talk to them.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“No, I mean the CSI team already checked it out. I talked to that guy, Klein? He said they dusted the doors, checked the locks, blue-lit the entire balcony and the balcony below. Nada.”

Ryker reached the holding pen and got himself buzzed in. Raymond’s signal faded as he passed through the doors and headed for Hoffer’s desk, but came back again as soon as he cleared the metalwork. “Can’t do any harm to talk to the occupants anyway, while you’re waiting for your next social appointment.”

“Okay. I got it covered.”

Hoffer had his book open and the envelope with Xiaohui’s belongings ready and waiting. Ryker signed the book and the clipboard that Hoffer held out, effectively releasing her from custody.

“Did Klein say anything else?” Ryker asked Raymond.

“You get brain cancer from these things,” Hoffer opined. Ryker crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out, and headed for the interview room.

“He hit on me,” Raymond said.

“He hits on everyone. Don’t think you’re special. What did you say?”

“I told him I have AIDS.”

“Ouch. But he asked you for a date anyway, right?”

She chuckled, a throaty sound which pleased Ryker no end. Maybe he’d lost the knack of pleasing women, but at least he could still make them laugh.

“Keep doing what you’re doing, Sandra, it’s appreciated. News update, we’re releasing the hooker,” he said. “Not nearly enough evidence to hold her.” He didn’t go into detail about James Lin; plenty of time for that later, and Raymond’s diary was hectic enough at the moment.

“With respect, Sergeant, what am I missing?” Raymond said. “If no one else was in the hotel room, she has to the killer, right?”

Chee Wei stood in the interview room doorway with his hands on his hips, a classic David Caruso pose. All he lacked were sunglasses and a blue Miami sky. Xiaohui must be coming in her pants, Ryker thought. “Don’t worry, Chee Wei’s going to be keeping a close eye on her,” he said into his phone. “Got to go, call me if anything exciting happens.”

“Roger that.”

Ryker put his phone away and joined Chee Wei. “Just keeping Detective Raymond in the picture,” he said. “She’s feeling lonely. Are we good to go?”

“Anytime.” Chee Wei half-turned to enter the room but Ryker stopped him and motioned him away from the door, turning so Xiaohui couldn’t possibly hear them. A cop walked by carrying a tray with covered plates, he nodded to Hoffer who opened a door for him. Ryker’s nose twitched at the rich food smell; criminals, it seemed, ate better than he did.

“Whassup?” Chee Wei said.

“If I wanted to talk to someone in the Shanghai police? Who would I go through? Any ideas?”

Chee Wei thought about it. “I have a cousin who works for the Hong Kong police. I’m sure he still has contacts in the old country. You want me to ask him?”

“That would be great.”

“Tell me something. Is this about her?” Chee Wei jerked his head to indicate Xiaohui, who had her back to them and stood with her arms folded, almost hugging herself, a picture of insecurity. “Or is it about James Lin?”

“Call me when you get to the sister’s place,” Ryker said. “After that, I want you to check in every thirty minutes. I’ll make sure Debbie knows.” He meant Debbie Price, the department’s administrator/clerk, whose duties included screening incoming calls and passing them to the relevant Homicide detectives. A three-times-married fortysomething, Debbie was too much woman for Ryker, who’d been mildly tempted to pursue a social dalliance until he learned her only interests were her seven cats, and Mexican dramas piped in via cable, a habit she’d acquired from her last husband, a decorated Latino cop who’d stopped a bullet from a Desert Eagle and left Debbie financially secure, if a little eccentric. “Don’t miss a call. You hear?”

Chee Wei nodded. They entered the interview room. Xiaohui turned to face them and Ryker saw she’d been crying. Was it an act to provoke sympathy? He couldn’t be sure, couldn’t read her accurately enough. He’d ask Chee Wei later; he was sure to be tuned into her more. Although hopefully not too tuned.

“Detective Fong will drive you to your sister’s, Miss Zhu. You don’t have to worry about anything while he’s with you. The investigation into Danny Lin’s murder will continue. I’m hopeful we’ll make an arrest soon. That should satisfy Mr. Lin. He’ll call off his dogs.” Which was bullshit; at this moment Xiaohui was their best and only lead, but he wanted to reassure her that the entire S.F.P.D. was on her side.

She sobbed a thank-you. Chee Wei escorted her to the desk to pick up her stuff. Ryker watched them go and knew he’d done the right thing. Chee Wei’s performance with Victor Chin had swung it, of course; he’d protected the damsel in distress and seen off the evil dragon. If Xiaohui was going to talk at all, she’d talk to Chee Wei. That was the plan, anyway, and while Ryker acknowledged its simplicity, he also thought it might just work.

Which left him alone and wondering what the hell he should be doing next. His rumbling stomach told him. He remembered the effect the smell of food had had on him, and realized how hungry he was. Pity the station house didn’t do room service….

He hurried out and along the hallway, took the stairs three at a time and burst through the doors, startling Johnson who said, “Where’s the fire?” Ignoring the black detective, and the ugly look Wallace gave him, Ryker fired up the DVD player again and used the timer to backtrack to when Danny Lin and Xiaohui arrived at the Taipan Suite and went inside. He fast-forwarded, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen. The minutes and seconds blurred but he kept track of the hour, 3 a.m., 4 a.m., 5 a.m., 6 a.m….

“Found anything interesting?” Spider stood behind him, Wallace by his side, their reflections visible in the upper corner of the screen.

“Playing a hunch,” Ryker said.

“Yuh-huh,” Wallace drawled, before turning and heading back to his desk. Maybe he’d become addicted to John Wayne movies. Ryker wished he’d climb up on his tall horse and mosey on out of town.

As 8 a.m. rolled up, room service arrived, the waiter with the breakfast trolley. Ryker pressed Play and the DVD player went into real time. The breakfast dishes lay hidden beneath silver heat covers, cutlery was laid out on the spotless white tablecloth, there was even a little vase with flowers, plus the slim leather wallet for the customer’s signature. The waiter knocked on the door, paused, knocked again. He opened the door and said something. Sir, are you there? I want my gratuity.

“It can’t be him,” Spider said. “Time of death-”

“Watch the tape.” Ryker compressed a whole bundle of irritation into that short phrase. Spider sighed, and Ryker sensed the impatience the lieutenant radiated like stale after-shave. Screw you, Spider, we’re all impatient. Wallace moved files around on his desk, lifting and dropping them so they made a slap-bang noise. He was like some kid told he couldn’t have candy for being naughty. Ryker mentally reviewed the rest room incident and decided his only mistake was failing to break Wallace’s fucking arm, yuh-huh.

He chided himself for being so stupid. He wasn’t mad at Wallace, he was mad because James Lin thought he could pull everybody’s strings, and Ryker didn’t like being pulled. Well, of course, that all depended on who was doing the pulling. He’d met several suitable candidates over the past couple of days, none of whom knew he existed, unfortunately.

On the TV screen, the waiter entered the room. Ryker knew what was coming next. He pressed Fast Forward again and time rolled on. The duty manager and two hotel employees blurred out of the elevator and into the room like characters in a Benny Hill TV show; all that was missing was the music. They came out again with the waiter and had a brief conference in the hallway. Security beamed down seconds later and put a man on the door. Hotel blazers came and went. The breakfast trolley disappeared. Ryker stopped, rewound, watched the same sequence again.

Hotel blazers came and went. Three of them stood between the trolley and the camera, talking. Ryker played it again. Spider leaned forward, his pale blue eyes unblinking, his lips forming a tight line. Three hotel blazers stood talking. Four hotel blazers went their separate ways. Ryker hit Rewind, then hit Play, then hit Freeze. Four hotel employees, when there should only have been three.

Two of the four faced the security camera. The other pair had their backs to the lens. Ryker pressed Play. One of the unknowns turned his head, revealing himself as a Caucasian man. The last member of the group was smaller, a woman, race undetermined. Ryker dismissed the man, whom he judged to be around six feet and one-eighty pounds, and focused on the woman. Not once, as she walked along the hallway and out of shot, did she show the camera anything except the back of her head. Another employee took the unwanted breakfast trolley away. Just before he passed out of shot he stopped, bent down, lifted the tablecloth, and looked underneath. Then he straightened and continued on his way.

“Some hunch,” Spider said.

Ryker was already dialing Sandra Raymond at the Mandarin Oriental. Two rings later she said, “Detective Raymond.” Her exasperation came through loud and clear. Maybe she thought Ryker was stalking her. Maybe he’d like to.

“Detective Raymond. This is Detective Sergeant Ryker.” He said it for Wallace’s benefit. “The room service guy brought a breakfast trolley to the scene at zero-eight-hundred. It sat outside the door for twenty minutes. Nobody was in the mood for scrambled eggs, someone took it away. Find out who, and what happened to the trolley.”

“How important is this?” Raymond asked.

Ryker sensed he had the attention of everyone in the squad room. “It’s looking like the killer sneaked out when the room service guy wasn’t looking, and hid in his trolley until other people arrived. At an opportune moment, she just up and walked away while wearing a hotel blazer. Talk to Klein. We’re looking for fingerprints, trace, DNA.”

“She?”

“I’d say somewhere between five-zero and five-six, ninety to one-twenty pounds.” Bigger wouldn’t fit the trolley. “When she climbed out she was wearing the blazer and black pants. Perfect camouflage for the terrain.”

“She could be an employee,” Spider said softly.

Ryker didn’t respond; just as equally the killer could be impersonating an employee. He told Raymond, “She knew the position of the security camera. We’re missing a shot of her face.”

He waited a few seconds, wondering if Raymond would get it, and he wasn’t disappointed. “So she stayed in the suite with the body until morning? Jesus.”

“Yep, she was in there all night, until the room service guy opened the door.” Ryker glanced at Spider, who shook his head in disbelief. “She knew Danny Lin had booked a wake-up call and breakfast. She might already have been hiding in the suite when he called room service. How long was the suite empty before Danny Lin arrived? Who had access? Find out. We know the killer has patience. Maybe we need to go further back with the tapes. Related subject. Hotel lobby security, from eight-twenty to eight-thirty. If anyone came downstairs and exited the hotel during that time frame, I want a Kodak moment. Also check with staff, see if anyone’s missing some clothes, ask if they can remember when the clothes walked, who might have been around, anything.”

“It’s my sister’s kid’s birthday next week, she’s seven years old. She’s having a party. I’d like to go, if that’s okay.”

Raymond’s unveiled sarcasm slapped him hard. He did his best not to smile, which wasn’t easy with Spider standing there. “I’m with Lieutenant Furino. We’ll see about sending some cavalry. Get things moving, Sandra.”

“Will do.” She hung up before he did.

“So what have we gained?” Spider asked.

Ryker stopped the video. “Maybe a face, if we’re lucky. Maybe someone will remember something. The more questions we ask, the more chance of getting an answer. I’m putting Morales in with Raymond.” Maybe that would put a smile on Morales’s sour face. Ryker remembered something else. “There were a couple of Bay area cops at the hotel when we got there. Jackson. And Blacque, spelled with a ‘q.’“ Jesus, maybe my memory isn’t so bad after all. “Can you give their boss a courtesy call, ask if they can drop by the hotel?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”

“You arranged cover for Chee Wei?”

“It’s solid,” Spider said. “But if that hooker hasn’t opened her mouth this time tomorrow, we deal the cards another way. I’m bent over my desk on this one. Pants around my ankles.”

“Hell of a picture, lou,” Ryker said.

Spider grimaced as if he didn’t like the mental image either. “You heading back to the Mandarin?”

“It’s the place to be. Then I’m going to pay Valerie Lin a visit, see what falls out of the tree when I shake it.”

Spider motioned with his head and Ryker followed him into his office, closing the door as soon as they were inside. Spider settled in his chair and said, “What’s to be gained by hassling James Lin’s daughter-in-law?”

Ryker had never thought Spider was the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he didn’t think he was totally stupid either. Nonetheless he spelled it out. “That video increases doubt over the Zhu woman’s being the murderer. Like it or not-and I don’t-Valerie Lin is similar in size to whoever hid in that breakfast trolley.”

“Hold on. You’re forgetting she has a witness who swears she was home. The housekeeper. It’s in the report.” He tapped a folder on his desk. “The original’s in the murder book. The phone records checked out too. It’s just like she said, she was calling her sister in China when Danny Lin joined his illustrious ancestors. For your information, we had to request authorization via the chief’s office before we could pull those records.”

“Her sister-in-law,” Ryker corrected him.

Spider opened the report and flipped a couple of pages. “My mistake, not hers. Seems like anything to do with the Lin family has to be cleared by a couple of security agencies. You see where I’m going with this?”

“The housekeeper is a loyal family servant who’d swear Valerie Lin was playing Gypsy Rose Lee on Broadway at the time of the murder, if she was ordered to. Meanwhile, Valerie Lin drove to the hotel with her favorite chopping knife.”

Spider made a show of looking around the room. “What is this, Candid Fucking Camera? Let’s keep it sane, okay? Mrs. Lin is not, repeat not, to be hounded by you at this or any other time. She’s a grieving widow, for Christ’s sake.”

“I’m aware of that, and I didn’t say I was going to hound her.”

“Sounded pretty much like it to me.” Spider drummed his fingers on his desk top. “Leave Valerie Lin alone. For the moment, anyway. I’ll talk to Captain Jericho, see what he says. Best I can do, Hal.”

Ryker thanked him and retreated gracefully. He intended to raise the subject again first thing in the morning, unless they got another break through Chee Wei or from the hotel video.

As if he were telepathic, Chee Wei called at that very moment to report they’d arrived safely at Xiaohui’s sister’s apartment. “I’m pretty sure we weren’t followed, and there’s nothing suspicious in the street. I’m looking out the window now.”

“Outstanding. How’s Princess Xiaohui?”

Chee Wei chuckled. “Happy to be with her family. She talked about getting some more stuff from her own apartment. I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea. The sister says she’ll call one of her cousins, ask them to pick it up.”

Ryker checked his watch. “I make it three-twenty. What say we skip the three-thirty call and make it four o’clock? Thereafter every thirty minutes. When Debbie goes home you call me.”

“Ten-four, mother hen.”

Ryker looked for Morales. Debbie Price was in the process of hanging up after a telephone call when Ryker approached her desk and said, “Hey Debbie, have you seen Detective Morales?”

“He’s a little down today,” Debbie said. She’d straightened her curly red hair and added blonde highlights. The overall effect made her look ten pounds lighter and ten years younger. Ryker wondered if she might have her eye on someone, and realized that someone could well be Luis Morales, given Debbie’s preference for Latino men. Relationships between squad members were discouraged for perfectly logical reasons, but clerical staff weren’t cops, which meant that technically they weren’t part of whatever squad they happened to be assigned to. “I saw him at the end of the hall. He didn’t even notice me.”

“That’s hard to believe. Hair’s looking nice, by the way.”

Ryker stepped out into the hallway. Sure enough Morales stood by the window at the far end, by the stairs, toying with a Styrofoam coffee cup. He glanced over his shoulder as Ryker approached.

“Just needed some air,” Morales said.

“It’s allowed,” Ryker said. “I should have asked-how’d your court case go?”

“Liquor store owner changed his mind. Local gang threatened to put a cap in his ass, you can bet on it.” Morales crushed his cup. “Two punks walk free and start planning their next hold-up. I just hope I’m there when it goes down. Ah, fuck it. What’s happening with you?”

“Bet you wish you were in Chee Wei’s shoes. He’s with the Chinese girl we brought in. Camped out in her living room.”

Morales grinned. “You gotta be shitting me. Whose ass do I have to kiss to pull that kind of duty?”

“Mine, but I’m not in the mood right now,” Ryker said. “Tell you what, next good-looking girl comes in, she’s all yours. Reason I’m here, Sandra Raymond’s still at the Mandarin, she could do with some help. I’m heading over there. Wouldn’t mind having you along.”

“Sure. Gets me out of this place.” Morales dunked his crushed cup into the bin, his mood brightening visibly. They returned to the squad room and Ryker briefed Debbie on Chee Wei’s assignment and his half-hourly check-ins. She assured him she’d be there till six, as soon as she took that call she’d let Ryker know and pass the baton to him. The flicker of interest in her eyes as she glanced at Morales didn’t go unnoticed by Ryker, though Morales seemed unaware, as he cleared his desk and grabbed his coat. Ryker collected his Glock from his desk and Spider gave them a nod and wave from his office on the way out of the squad room.

Ryker quickly brought Morales up to speed with the rest of the stuff while they cut a path through the city’s late afternoon traffic.

“There’s a rumor going around,” Morales said. “I dunno who started it. You and the widow-woman Lin got the hots for each other. Anything to that?”

“Jesus.” Ryker shook his head. “Chee Wei loves his soap opera, doesn’t he?” Morales laughed, confirming the source of the “rumor.” Ryker wanted to knock it on the head instantly, since at least half of it was true. He decided attack was the best form of defense. “I’ll tell you this, Luis, she’s damn fine-looking. I’d go so far as to say ‘sizzling.’ It’s beyond belief that Danny Lin would rather pay for pussy when he’s got a sex fantasy waiting for him at home.”

“She impressed you that much, huh?”

“The day I end up in bed with someone like Mrs. Danny Lin is the day I get religion.”

“You’re not a religious man.”

Ryker was only too glad to change the subject. “Not in the church-going sense. Do I believe in God? Sure, it was drilled into me as a kid. And it feels good to know there’s a higher being responsible for everything-and someone to blame when things turn to shit. It gives me my place in the universe, you know?”

Morales nodded, taking it seriously. “Yeah. Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” He leaned forward to look up at the imposing structure that was their destination. “Sometimes I think that’s what all churches should look like. So high they touch heaven. People should be able to step in an elevator, go right to the top, and step out into God’s waiting room. Make an appointment with His secretary. Sit down and talk to the Man Himself. Feel His love. Know His purpose.”

“Pull over, Morales,” Ryker said. “You’re under arrest for driving under the influence.”

Morales was still laughing when they turned into the entrance to the hotel’s parking lot. Ryker showed his shield to the guy on the barrier, who let them through. There were plenty of empty spaces. Ryker assumed most guests must arrive and depart in chauffeur-driven limos rather than in beat-up Fords with municipal license plates that needed a wash and wax.

Ryker called Sandra Raymond and asked her to meet them in the lobby. There she introduced them to the duty manager, an impeccable middle-aged man with a pencil mustache that was so precise it must have been trimmed using a microscope and surgical scissors. Ryker assured the manager they would keep as low a profile as possible, and only disturb guests if and when it became absolutely necessary. As soon as the manager went on his way, Raymond vented her anger. “Every time I tried to talk to someone, that oily little dick shooed me away and put his tongue up their ass.”

“As long as none of them were female, between five zero and five-six, we’ll let it pass,” Ryker said. “Have you had a chance to look at the lobby tapes?”

“This way,” Raymond said. She led them to a room just round the corner from the elevators and out of sight of the entrance. She knocked on the door and entered. A big man whom Raymond introduced as Duffy turned in his chair and nodded to Ryker and Morales. Besides his uniform he wore a lightweight wire headset and mike. In front of him were eighteen flat screen monitors arranged in three banks of six. Ryker counted as many tape machines stacked to one side and numbered. The monitor images changed constantly, cycling through various floors and hallways, some empty, some not.

“You’re ready to go,” Duffy said, pointing to one of the tape decks. Raymond offered Ryker a second chair, which he declined like a true gentleman. Morales grabbed it and pretended to sit down, then laughed and offered it to Raymond.

“Thanks,” she said, dropping into the chair with a sigh. “Been on my damn feet all day. I’m claiming for shoe leather, and Lieutenant Furino better okay it.”

“So what’s on TV?” Morales asked. “Spongebob Squarepants?”

“This,” Raymond said, leaning forward to press the Play button. She pointed to the lower-right TV monitor, which showed a view of the hotel lobby and reception desk. The time stamp said 08:17. Ryker felt a tingle of anticipation in his stomach. She’d found something! Six customers stood at the reception desk, attended by three hotel clerks. Further back, a woman of around sixty sat on a couch reading one of the pamphlets scattered on the coffee tables, which advertised tours of the city, trips around the Bay, restaurants, attractions. Pedestrians and street traffic were visible through the glass doors. The uniformed doorman stood in profile, one eye on the street and one on the lobby. The time stamp changed to 08:18 and from somewhere off to the left, a woman wearing a long black coat over black pants and shoes appeared. She strode to the entrance without pause. The doorman saw her coming, opened a door for her, and smiled pleasantly. She went down the steps, turned left and was instantly lost in the stream of passers-by.

“You think that’s her?” Morales said.

“She knew the position of the camera,” Ryker said. “Didn’t turn round, just kept walking. We saw her hair, that’s all. Same length and style as the woman we saw on the suite hallway tape.”

Raymond’s nimble fingers worked the tape deck controls. The tape ran in reverse. The doorman opened the door and the woman back-stepped into the lobby. She’d almost vanished off-screen, returning to the point where she’d first appeared, when Raymond hit Play again. The woman walked toward the entrance. Her reflection showed in the glass doors. Just before the doorman opened the door for her, her reflection became more solid, almost equal in quality to a low-resolution digital camera picture. The doorman’s uniform jacket, behind the door, darkened the glass and somehow gathered sufficient light to show her face, clearly enough for Ryker to realize she was Chinese. Raymond hit a button and the face swelled to fill the TV monitor. The edge of the screen flickered uncertainly while the center of the picture remained stable, giving them a blurry but almost-distinct mug shot. To Ryker’s relief, she looked nothing like Valerie Lin whose features were softer and more feminine. Not that this woman was by any means ugly. He thought of Michelle Yeoh, whose strong features had mesmerized him throughout Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

Raymond indicated a slimline printer connected to Duffy’s master control panel by a USB cable. Ryker expected the printer to do something, but Raymond picked up a folder with the hotel logo instead, and opened it to show him a glossy hardcopy of exactly what was on the TV monitor. “Here’s one I prepared earlier,” she said. “So how are we doing?” Her smile told him she already knew she’d made a lot of people very happy, starting with Ryker and not necessarily ending with Captain Jerko.

“You’ve shown this to hotel staff?”

“Soon as the ink was dry. Duty manager doesn’t know her. Cleaning staff manager is checking it out, they hire temporary staff as needed, and they took on four new employees last week. Kitchen staff is more stable.”

Ryker stared at the print. He knew it was just a trick of light and camera angle, like a portrait whose eyes followed you around the room, but the woman seemed to stare at him, and he didn’t like what he saw. The killer’s eyes were lifeless black stones. He didn’t deny that her face held a measure of physical beauty, but those eyes….

“Where’s the cleaning manager?” he said, passing the print to Morales.

Raymond got up and headed for the door, clapping Duffy on the shoulder as she passed him by. Ryker added his nod of thanks, which Duffy acknowledged with a serious scowl that said he was too busy doing his job to shake hands or exchange verbal pleasantries, but had nonetheless taken a professional pleasure from assisting the S.F.P.D. in their hour of need.

“Just so we’re clear,” Morales said, as Raymond led them toward another door. “That wasn’t Danny Lin’s wife, was it?”

“That would be too easy,” Ryker said. “No, it’s not her. She’s a new player, worse luck. We need to fax this to Furino, stat. Luis, can you talk to the duty manager?”

“Sure.” Morales took the print to the reception desk.

Raymond knocked on the door and entered, taking them into an L-shaped office with a window onto a delivery bay. Two of the three desks were occupied by women wearing matching black pants suits. Raymond introduced Ryker to one of the pair. “Hey Martina, this is Detective Sergeant Ryker. You got anything for us?”

Martina spread four sheets across her desk, turned so Ryker could read them. They contained employee names, addresses, contact telephone numbers. Each had a passport-sized photograph stapled to the top right corner. None matched the Chinese woman who’d left the hotel at 08:18. One was Caucasian, two were Afro-Americans, the fourth a Latina with a winning smile.

“They started work here last week?” Ryker asked.

“That’s right.”

“The woman we’re looking for is Chinese.” Martina gave Raymond a look, as if accusing her of withholding that gem of information. Ryker said, “We only just found out ourselves. How about before last week? Can you check everyone who started this month?”

Martina chewed her lip for a second. “I suppose that’s okay. I’m not trying to be difficult or anything. I’m just not sure if I should be asking for a warrant, that’s all. Because it’s private employee information, I mean.”

“We’re not taking anything away, Martina,” Raymond said. “We just want to look at the photographs. We’ll get a warrant if we need to take anything away. Okay?”

Martina opened a filing drawer divided into sections with colored folders. She extracted one, flipped through pages, and fished out half-a-dozen sheets. To Ryker’s annoyance only four of them had photographs attached. Two were Chinese, but neither resembled the face he’d seen reflected in the glass door. He studied the two sheets without photographs. The first had been filled out by Maria Fernandez, aged 25, whose flowing looped handwriting was legible but required concentration to read. The second was filled out in neat capital letters that could have been printed by a machine. Amy Wong had been working at the Mandarin Oriental for eleven days. She’d had two of those days off. Her supervisor’s initial comments were favorable, Amy was punctual, her work was satisfactory, and she worked well on her own.

Ryker tried to recall where he’d heard that name before. When it came to him he nearly slapped his head. Amy Wong was one of the characters from Futurama, a show whose off-the-wall humor consistently made him laugh out loud. He accepted that it was probably just a mild coincidence. There must be hundreds of Amy Wongs in the country, perhaps dozens lived in San Francisco alone. Did he really expect a killer to watch the same cartoons as he did and pick a character name as her alias?

In the file was a copy of Ms. Wong’s photo identification, in this case, a California driver’s license. Ryker looked at it eagerly, but frowned when he saw the picture. Amy Wong we definitely in her 50s, and the jowls on her jaw line didn’t jibe with what he had seen in the video.

Well, she’s all we’ve got.

Raymond wrote the name in her notebook. She moved into a corner and turned her back to the room while she made a call on her cell.

Ryker tapped Amy Wong’s sheet and said, “Martina, did you hire this woman?”

“I don’t remember the name. Some are referred to us through agencies who do the hiring and firing. Let me look up the reference code. Right here, see?” She pointed to a string of letters and numbers printed along the top of the sheet. She tapped on her computer keyboard. Something changed on her LCD monitor, which Ryker couldn’t really see because of the angle. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Whoever assigned that code made a mistake when they typed it into the system. Carelessness.”

Ryker would have called it stupidity, and included Martina in that general category, but he kept his mouth shut and looked at Raymond, who was listening to whoever was on the other end of her phone. She held the device away from her ear and said, “The address is a rented apartment in Chinatown. The lieutenant wants to know if you want a SWAT unit.”

“Let’s keep it low profile,” Ryker said. “Request a search warrant. Call the building supervisor and have him meet us inside, with keys.”

Raymond relayed his request. Martina looked up at him, confused. “You don’t mean to tell me this woman’s a criminal?”

“We’re just checking her out, along with a hundred other people who work here. I’d appreciate if you don’t talk about this with anyone.” Ryker stared at her until she lowered her gaze and nodded, taking the hint.

Raymond offered Ryker her phone. He took it and said, “Ryker.”

Spider said, “How sure are you that this could be the killer?”

“It’s a zillion to one. That’s why I’m stepping lightly.”

“I’m not suggesting you might screw this up, Hal. But don’t screw it up.”

“Ten-four.” Ryker hung up and gave the phone back to Raymond. “Want to come along?”

“Let me think about it. Please God, yes.”

They rounded up Morales and headed back to the parking lot. Raymond still seemed a little surprised as she buckled herself into the back seat. She gave Morales the address and Ryker stuck the flashing bubble on the roof, but the car stayed put while Morales consulted an A-Z street guide. “Guess we’re missing the heavy metal rock track,” Ryker said. Raymond quickly looked out the window to stop herself from laughing.

“I like to know where I’m going before I burn rubber,” Morales said. “You hot shots want to drive, just say the word.” He put the car into gear and headed for the exit ramp.

“For the love of God don’t say ‘burn rubber’ again, it turns me on,” Raymond said. Before Ryker had a chance to think up a suitably witty reply she added, “So what happens if we find Miss Wong? We know she likes to play with knives.”

“That’s why I don’t want SWAT kicking the door down,” Ryker said. “All due respect to our boys in black, I’d like to have the opportunity to speak with Miss Wong.”

“You think she separated Danny Lin from his yang? That’s no way to die, man,” Morales said.

“I don’t think she killed him-this broad’s in her fifties. But if she did, then she’s a dangerous psycho bitch until proven otherwise.”

Morales’s route took them past the Transamerica Pyramid, then down toward the Bay. Chinatown grew up around them and they were absorbed into its labyrinthine streets. Morales slowed down, and indicated the A-Z. Ryker flicked through the pages until he found their position.

“Next right, two blocks down,” he said. Morales steered that way. In no time they were within sight of the apartment block. Morales pulled in and stopped. A black-and-white sat parked in an alley, out of sight. Two uniforms climbed out along with an inoffensive-looking Chinese guy who smiled weakly as Ryker approached, Morales and Raymond a half-step behind.

“This is the supervisor, Mr. Lau,” the older of the two cops said. Ryker shook Lau’s hand, which was cold and limp. “Get this. He’s got family in the same building, a nephew and his wife and kid. Isn’t that right, Mr. Lau?” Lau nodded eagerly. “They live on the second floor. The woman’s one floor up. Mr. Lau called them and asked if they saw her today. They said yes. They think she could be up there now. Mr. Lau says she keeps to herself, pays her rent on time, doesn’t cause any trouble.”

“She won’t even say hello to my nephew’s family,” Lau said. “What kind of person won’t say hello to their neighbors?” He shook his head in disgust, then eagerly added, “Of course, I think I still need to see a warrant, right?”

Ryker pulled a facsimile copy of the warrant from inside his coat and showed it to Lau. Sometimes he loved technology. Sometimes. Lau checked the name and address were spelled right, folded the warrant, and handed it back to Ryker.

“What’d she do?” the cop asked.

“Murder suspect,” Ryker told him. “Emphasis on suspect. If we’re wrong, no big deal.”

“If we’re right,” Raymond said, “big deal.”

The cop shrugged. “Whatever way you want to play it.”

“I want you come along behind us and cover the stairs after we’re inside, keep the neighbors under control. Mr. Lau, you’ll help too. We’re going to unlock the door and walk right in.” He held out his hand and Lau gave him a key. The plastic tag read 303.

“Simplest plans are always the best,” the cop said.

They entered the building without drawing attention and climbed the stairs. Morales put himself into wingman position, establishing Raymond as tail-end Charlie, the backup gun if things went pear-shaped. When they reached the third floor landing they drew and checked their weapons. They padded silently along the corridor until they reached 303, and passed it by without stopping. Ryker pulled out his badge. Morales did the same. They crept back to the door. Raymond sucked in a deep breath. Morales crossed himself. Ryker fought an overwhelming urge to pass wind. To hell with this, call in SWAT, let them take the risks they’re paid to take. He ignored that logical advice and inserted the key into the lock, turned it as Morales turned the door handle. They squeezed inside.

A narrow hallway. Doors to left and right. Bedroom. Bathroom. Kitchen. They peeked into each of these apparently empty rooms on their way to the living room at the end of the hallway. Ryker stepped into the living room and swung left, Morales went right. Empty. He peered beneath the couch and chairs. Nothing. He turned back to the hallway, saw Raymond at the open door in marksman’s stance, both eyes open, aiming right at him. As Ryker relaxed and Morales came up out of his crouch, she lowered her weapon. He realized that her expression must mirror his: disappointment that the neighbors, Lau’s nephew’s family, were wrong. Nobody was home.

A shadow fell across the hallway and obscured his view of Raymond for only a second. When he saw her again she was sitting outside, her back against the corridor wall, legs spread wide, head bowed so her hair cascaded down over her face. He bolted along the hallway and out into the corridor. His shoe struck Raymond’s gun as he skidded to a stop, sent it spinning away. Raymond’s arm flopped. Her head came up, her mouth moved, but she didn’t say anything. Her eyes rolled, following the direction of her flopping arm. Pointing? Ryker swung round, gun cocked, finger on the trigger. The shadow stood on the landing, looking back at him. That same face he’d seen in the security camera print, eyes like black stones, terribly beautiful, yet also terribly frightening. He pulled the trigger even as his senses acknowledged the shadow’s blurred movement up and over the hand rail, plunging down the stairwell. The narrow confines of the corridor reflected the percussion and deafened him; at the same time recoil slammed up his arm and hurt his shoulder. He already knew he’d missed. He ran toward the landing as Morales emerged from the apartment and moved to assist Raymond.

Lau and the two cops stood at the bottom of the stairway. They looked up at him with astonished faces. The older cop said something, cupping his hands around his mouth. Ryker pointed at his ear and shook his head, indicating that he couldn’t hear. His ears popped. It sounded like he had a sea shell covering both ears, giving the effect of waves on a beach. Morales’s footsteps grew louder. He joined Ryker and peered over the rail. “The hell happened?”

“She was here!” Ryker said. He shouted down to the cops, “Where is she?”

They looked at each other dumbly as if he’d spoken a foreign language. Then both men shrugged and spread their hands, the universal expression of incomprehension that told Ryker they didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about.

Ryker went down the stairs four at a time, leading with his Glock. Morales caught on and followed him. They reached the next landing down. Ryker peeked around the corner. The corridor was empty. At the far end, net curtains fluttered, pushed by a breeze. Ryker crabbed sideways along the hallway, pressing himself to the wall. Morales took the other side. They reached the curtains, which concealed an open window. Ryker peered out. The fire escape ladder was up, it hadn’t been used. Below the window lay a narrow alleyway with a row of trash bins. He leaned out as far as he could but there was no one down there.

“What happened?” Morales said. Ryker was torn between taking the fire escape down into the alleyway, and going upstairs to check on Raymond. “What the hell happened?”

“Stay here,” he told Morales. “Watch the alleyway. If anything moves, shoot it.”

Morales took up station, clearly bewildered. Ryker hurried back to the landing and called down to the cops, telling them to check the alleyway, even though he knew it was hopeless. They ran outside and Ryker climbed back up to the third floor, where he found Raymond on her feet, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply.

“Sandra. Talk to me.” He examined her for signs of injury, of blood, but couldn’t see either.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m okay.”

“Did you see her?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Raymond shook her head, then winced when it apparently hurt. “Give me a second. I don’t know, what the fuck, I was looking at you, next thing I knew….” She rubbed her neck, massaged the area of her collarbone. Ryker opened her jacket. Her white blouse was intact and blood-free.

“It hurts there?”

“Yeah it fucking hurts, don’t touch me. Christ, I thought the bitch must have shot me. The impact, I couldn’t feel my legs, what did she hit me with? It threw me back. My legs stopped working. A fucking sledgehammer or something?” He sensed her panic, a result of confusion and fear. They moved together instinctively and she clung onto him for dear life, trembling with reaction. Her words came out in breathless sobs. “I thought I’d be in a wheelchair. What did she do to me?”

“Sandra, did you see her?” He held her tightly, twisting his hips away from her to avoid any crotch contact. Last thing he needed right now was a hard-on.

“I saw something. It must have been her. She was there. Then she was gone.” Raymond delivered one last gurgling sob into his shoulder, then stepped back, disconnecting from him. “She was dressed in black, from head to foot.”

“She must have had some kind of weapon,” Ryker suggested. “A club, a T-bar, something like that?”

“I don’t, I’m not sure, if she had anything in her hands.” She touched his chest, making a fist, tapping him around his collarbone as if trying to visually recreate what she’d experienced.

“She punched you?”

Raymond frowned and shook her head, uncertain. Ryker’s phone rang, he flipped it open, saw Morales’s name on the display. “Luis, talk to me.”

“Our guys are in the alley,” Morales said. “Nada.”

“She hit Sandra,” Ryker said. “Knocked her right over. I don’t think anything’s broken. We’re going to the hospital to make sure.”

“That’s not necessary,” Raymond said.

“You hit your head. We’re going to the hospital. No argument.” To Morales he said, “Our bird has flown. We need to get someone to check out her apartment. And stick around in case she comes back. Call Furino, Luis. Tell him what’s happened. We missed her. She was here and we missed her.”