White Tiger

CHAPTER 19

The Lin compound was a huge, sprawling Mediterranean villa that sat atop a hill in the town of Tiburon, an upscale community in Marin County, north of San Francisco. The villa had commanding views of the San Francisco Bay, from the Golden Gate Bridge to the heart of the city itself, as well as Angel Island. Manning hadn’t seen such eye-popping natural beauty in quite some time, and he had almost driven his GTO off the road while looking out across the Bay.

The compound was gated, of course, and his identity was checked by the taciturn guard on duty there. After a brief conversation over his radio, he waved Manning through. Manning accelerated up the long, winding driveway. The grounds were immaculately landscaped, and an army of greens keepers were at work making last-minute grooming. They paid Manning no mind as he brought the car to a halt before a three-bay garage. Two Hispanic men in red vests approached him-valets, of course. Manning waved them away, ignoring their protests that he couldn’t leave his car there. He marched toward the villa’s front door and rang the bell. As expected, a tuxedoed butler answered. The man was portly and bald, and carried himself with a regal bearing usually reserved for members of the British aristocracy.

“Yes sir, how might I help you?” Damned if the man didn’t have a British accent!

“Jerome Manning for James Lin.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Manning-I’ve been expecting you. Mr. Lin is not yet available, and I was wondering if you might meet with Mr. Baluyevsky instead?” The butler stood aside and waved Manning inside with a small bow.

“That’s fine,” Manning said. He stepped across the threshold and tried not to marvel at the ornate entry hall that waiting on the other side. The ceiling was at least thirty feet high, and floor was solid white marble veined with shoots of black. Gold lame adorned the curved ceiling and the ivory beams that supported it, and a chandelier that likely exceeded Manning’s entire net worth cast subtle light throughout the cavernous chamber. A sweeping staircase rose away from the entry hall, leading to what Manning presumed to be the living quarters.

Manning mentally recited a classic Mel Brooks line: It’s good to be the king.

“My name is Edwards, Mr. Manning. Will you be staying for the party?”

Manning nodded to the butler. “For a time, certainly-though if it’s a black tie affair, I’m afraid I’m somewhat underdressed for the occasion.” He wore a dark blue suit and an understated tie. Though it had cost him $4,000, it was likely worth less than one of Lin’s used handkerchiefs.

“I do believe you’re on staff, sir, not a guest? Your attire is in keeping with Mr. Lin’s tastes. Now, if you’ll follow me…?”

The portly bald man led Manning deeper into the villa, past large rooms filled with furnishings of unquestionable value. The opulence was almost beyond measure, which wasn’t surprising. Chinese elites had an image to project, and Lin obviously intended to live up to his part.

At last, they came to a small suite of rooms located near the rear of the villa. Edwards knocked discreetly on a mahogany door before opening it, motioning Manning forward. Manning nodded his thanks and stepped into the next room.

Inside, several flat screen monitors glowed in the semi-darkness. A man sat behind a horseshoe-shaped desk and watched the monitors. Various portions of the property were under closed-circuit surveillance, and audio was included. A small storage area network stood in a rack in one corner, humming to itself. Manning surmised that the camera footage was digitized and stored there for future review, if necessary.

“Hello, Manning.” Baluyevsky was seated at a small desk on the other side the room, bathed in the wan light of a lamp. He closed the laptop computer before him and rose to his feet. His jacket had been draped across the back of the chair, and his white shirt drew tight around his expansive belly.

“Baluyevsky,” Manning said.

Baluyevsky waved to the horseshoe desk and the bank of monitors. “Our security station,” he explained. “The entire compound is under at least some degree of surveillance. This station isn’t manned routinely, but after the death of Lin Dan, we now have it operational twenty-four hours a day.”

“You pay your people overtime?”

Baluyevsky looked at Manning oddly, then pointed at one of the monitors. Manning’s GTO could be seen sitting in the wide driveway.

“This is your car. You’ll have to move it,” the big Russian said. “This will be a drop-off point for the rest of the guests. They are scheduled to begin arriving in one hour.”

“Don’t worry about it-I won’t be staying for long,” Manning said.

“I’m afraid Mr. Lin has requested your presence throughout at least the first part of the evening.”

“Huh. Didn’t think this was a party for the working class. Sorry, I’m not letting any valet drive my car.”

Baluyevsky pulled on his jacket. “Very well, if it makes things more palatable, leave it there. I know how you Americans love your automobiles. Come, let’s go for a walk. I will give you a guided tour, I believe it is called.”

Manning followed Baluyevsky out of the cool, darkened room and into the hallway. The big Russian led Manning throughout the lower floor of the villa, pointing out room after room filled with lavish furnishings and stunning artworks. Lin’s taste was hardly eclectic, Manning noticed. He preferred furniture that looked expensive, but was probably uncomfortable for more than occasional use. He was fond of statues from all over the world, and his framed artworks were likely first class, though such things were beyond Manning. Near the rear of the house, there was a windowed gallery where large paintings and wall hangings were on display. The windows overlooked the carefully sculpted gardens and huge patio, and a large swimming pool could be glimpsed past artistically manicured hedges. And the view from the courtyard was simply stunning: from the Golden Gate to downtown San Francisco, it was laid out for all to see. On such a peculiarly clear day as this one, it bordered on breathtaking.

“The view at night is simply lovely,” Baluyevsky stated, as if sensing Manning’s thoughts. “The city and the bridge gleam like jewels.”

“Probably the only things Lin doesn’t own,” Manning replied.

“For now,” Baluyevsky said.

They finally wound up in the large gourmet kitchen, which was full of white-clad staff scurrying back and forth as they prepared the night’s meals. Most were Chinese, but some whites and Hispanics were present as well. Baluyevsky led Manning to a large table off to one side, and motioned to one of the chefs as he sat. Manning sat down across from him.

“Lin doesn’t have any African-Americans working for him?” Manning asked.

“Observant. No, Mr. Lin does not care for blacks. Does this offend you?” Baluyevsky wanted to know.

Manning shrugged. “Lin’s an old guy from China, and most Asians don’t care for blacks anyway. It’s not surprising. I just didn’t think he would care about those things.”

“Mr. Lin cares about a great many things. In his world, perceptions are quite valuable.”

One of the Chinese chefs approached the table, carrying a silver coffee service. On it were two espresso cups made of extremely delicate china. Baluyevsky ignored the chef and picked up one cup by its tiny handle. Manning was surprised the vessel didn’t shatter in his thick fingers.

“Espresso,” Baluyevsky said. “Please help yourself, if you like.”

“Thanks.” Manning brought his cup to his lips and tasted the hot, bitter liquid. It was first rate, of course.

“So tell me of your meeting with the police,” Baluyevsky said.

Manning raised a brow and looked around the busy kitchen. “Here?”

“No one here cares about such things, and if they did, things would go badly for them.”

“You guys really stick it to the little people, huh?”

“I do not know what you mean by that, but no one here is threatened by us. They know what is required of them, and if they cannot provide a specific level of service-which includes discretion-then they are fired. That is all I meant.”

“Ah.” Manning sipped more espresso. “I see.”

He told Baluyevsky of his meeting with Ryker, and what his review of the murder book had revealed. There wasn’t a lot to go on, and Manning surmised that some things hadn’t made it to the book as of yet. Still, it seemed that Ryker and his team were moving ahead as quickly as they could. Solving a murder became substantially more difficult after the first forty-eight hours or so, and even though there was some substantial physical evidence, there was nothing that could offer up a suitable suspect. Manning told Baluyevsky that Zhu Xiaohui had been nominally cleared of any wrongdoing, but that the police were still interested in her.

“And they are protecting her from us?” Baluyevsky wanted to know.

“I got that impression, yes. You were made on the day that you stopped by her sister’s place, which wasn’t particularly wise.”

Baluyevsky waved that aside. “What did you not see today? What was missing?”

“Various interdepartmental forms. Background checks, things like that. I only saw the murder book itself, and while it was pretty thorough, I’m sure there’s stuff that hasn’t made it there yet. I asked for the forms to be shown to me tomorrow. Ryker said someone would handle that.”

“Yes, Ryker…what did you think of him?”

Manning shrugged. “Seemed competent enough. Contentious son of a bitch, but I can understand why. He’s got a bunch of outsiders looking over his shoulder and turning up the heat on his bosses, which doesn’t make things easier for him. He’s probably a very good cop, but he’s being kept on a short leash.”

“How close is he to identifying a suspect?”

“Not very. A lot of people hate Lin, both the son and the father, though the son certainly had a higher profile here in the U.S. I’m wondering if anyone has taken a look at his wife?”

Baluyevsky frowned. “You would think that Lin Dan’s wife killed him, or had him killed?”

“Look, the guy was taken out while having an affair with a much younger woman, right? That would cost a Chinese a lot of face. A lot of face, especially in circles like this one.” Manning indicated the house in which they sat.

Baluyevsky shook his head. “That would be impossible. Valerie Lin is not that sort of woman. She knew of her husband’s infidelity, but she bore it silently. The only action she took regarding that was to bring it to Mr. Lin’s attention.”

Manning was surprised by that. “She took this to Lin himself? That’s outside the box for a Chinese.”

“She has American sensibilities about some things, but you are right, it was a moment of great embarrassment for both of them. Mr. Lin was not pleased to be approached with such a development.”

“So what did he do?”

“He reduced his son’s standing in the business. Major responsibilities were transferred to others not in the family bloodline. And there was no chance that Lin Dan would keep his seat on the board of directors of Lin Industries, in either the U.S. or China.”

Manning thought about that. “I guess it didn’t work,” he said finally. “Lin Dan still had his ladies on the side.”

Baluyevsky sipped from his cup so delicately that it was almost comical. “No, it did not work. Apparently this woman is quite the artist.”

“What do you know of her?”

“Nothing. Only that she is a native Shanghainese, and that she has exorbitant tastes. Lin Dan was literally spending hundreds of thousands of dollars a year maintaining her. It was only when he brought her to California for their liaisons that Valerie Lin found out about Lin Dan’s ‘other life’, so to speak, and took action.”

“So Lin Dan wasn’t a very cool cat, then.”

Baluyevsky blinked. “What do you mean by ‘cool cat’?”

“I meant he wasn’t the paragon of discretion.”

“No. He was obviously not at all discreet,” Baluyevsky agreed.

“Ryker investigated him earlier for something else?”

“Yes. Lin Dan had cost his father much face before. He was an embarrassment to the family and the business more than once.”

Manning sipped some more espresso. “Maybe Lin should send his son’s killer a thank-you note.”

Baluyevsky glared at Manning. “Be mindful of your place, Manning. And hold your tongue.”

“Take a step back, Baluyevsky. I know what I’m here for.”

The two men stared at each other for a time. Baluyevsky defused the moment by draining his cup and setting it on the silver tray.

“At any rate, you will see for yourself that Valerie Lin is not capable of murder, or of arranging a murder. She will be here tonight.”

“Really? That’s…surprising.”

“She knows her place in Mr. Lin’s world, and even the death of her husband cannot excuse her from her duties just yet. As I meant to say, she is a very dutiful woman, and because of this I truly do not believe she is capable of murder.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.” Manning finished his espresso and placed the cup on the tray as well. Baluyevsky checked his watch and rose to his feet. Manning mimicked him.

“I will need to make some inspections before the guests arrive,” the Russian told him. “Perhaps you’d like to accompany me?”

“Why not,” Manning said.

At dusk, the limousines began to arrive.

Manning and Baluyevsky watched from one side of the driveway as the long, shiny vehicles disgorged their passengers, elegantly-dressed men and women who were obviously representatives of the upper echelons of both American and Chinese societies. Manning recognized an action movie star from Hong Kong, the U.S. senator from California, and two high-ranking congressmen. He wondered what they were doing for Lin, and what had Lin promised them in return? Lin greeted them personally in the entry hall, and he looked resplendent in a fine but conservative tuxedo. He had spared Manning only the quickest of glances as he stood aside and watched the arrivals stream in.

A black Audi A8 pulled up in front of the house, and a graceful woman alighted from it. Her hair piled high on her head, and she wore a long dark gown that was graced with a sparkling heron that ran from hip to hem. Over her shoulder was a leather purse so small as to be almost useless. She looked at once regal, yet weary as she glided down the covered walkway on high-heeled shoes. Lin’s greeting was muted and subdued, and the woman nodded to him obsequiously.

“Valerie Lin,” Baluyevsky rumbled.

Manning watched the elegant woman step into the house unchaperoned as one of the valets took her Audi around the house and parked it next to Manning’s GTO. Apparently, the wife of Lin’s deceased son did get at least one perk.

“A handsome woman,” Manning said.

Another limousine rumbled up the wide driveway, this one a large stretch Bentley. Several Chinese alighted from it, and Lin advanced to meet them, smiling broadly. He extended his hand toward an older Chinese man who seemed to be Lin’s contemporary, but where Lin was polished and poised, the newcomer seemed rough and unfinished, even while wearing an expensive tuxedo.

“That must be Ren Yun,” Manning said. “Lin’s pal from the good old bad days.”

“Yes,” Baluyevsky said. “He and Mr. Lin are among the most powerful men inside-and outside-China.”

“They don’t seem very much alike,” Manning observed.

“They are exactly alike. Mr. Lin is simply…more refined.” Baluyevsky checked his watch. “I need to confer with my staff. You needn’t come with me. I think it would be acceptable for you to mingle with the rest of the guests, so long as you hold your tongue.”

“What do you expect me to tell them, Alexsey? I’m here to bump off Lin Dan’s killer?”

Baluyevsky glared at Manning, something Manning now recognized as the big Russian’s default expression. “I do not expect you to say any such thing.”

“I wasn’t being serious.”

Baluyevsky blinked, and looked as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Was that American humor? It was not very funny. At any rate, you should tell them that you are in Mr. Lin’s employ as a security consultant only, and that you represent Mr. Lin’s interests in Japan. He has an office in the Komeito Tower in Tokyo. Do you know it?”

“Of course. I’ve actually worked there in the past.”

“Then you should have no problem coming up with something very boring to say, should anyone ask. Follow me.”

Manning followed Baluyevsky to the covered walkway and moved past the crowd surrounding Lin as discreetly as possible. As they did so, Manning took a moment to study the group. Ren Yun spoke animatedly to Lin; his voice was gruff and loud, and his manner was somewhat crude. Lin laughed at something the man said, and clapped him on the shoulder while the rest of the group tittered politely. One woman stood at the edge of the crowd, wearing an immaculate blue silk qi pao, the cultural garb women wore in mainland China. It was slit high on her thigh, and she wore low-soled shoes. She looked over as Baluyevsky eased his bulk past, his eyes fixed forward. Her dark eyes drifted toward Manning as he followed. Manning nodded to her slightly.

“Ni hao,” he said.

“Good evening,” she responded, and her English was devoid of almost any accent. She smiled slightly, and Manning smiled back. She turned her head and looked back at Ren and Lin, and Manning slowed an instant to study her profile. The overhead lights were bright enough to reveal her face, and he saw she had fine features that would have bordered on breathtaking if they hadn’t been somewhat severe. She had the face of a woman who didn’t laugh very much, someone who might be the usual officious sort who served the Chinese elite. She didn’t look back at him, so Manning continued after Baluyevsky.

Baluyevsky led Manning into the vast entry hall and turned back to him. “I will leave you here, Manning. I’ll look for you within an hour or so, which is when Mr. Lin and his guests will sit down for dinner.”

“Very well,” Manning said.

With that, Baluyevsky turned and left without another word. Manning watched him leave for a moment, then sighed. He had never been particularly good at social events even with people he knew, so skulking about a mansion amidst a cast of international elites promised to be less than entertaining. He slipped his hands into his pockets and looked around the entry hall, wondering what to do. Before he could arrive at a decision, Lin led the entourage through the front door. He was all smiles, and still had a hand on Ren’s shoulder. His eyes met Manning’s for a brief instant, and Manning got the hint. He faded down the hallway that led to the kitchen, his shoes clicking on the hard marble floor. Behind him, the assemblage erupted into raucous laughter as Ren barked out some joke in a dialect Manning did not understand.

The kitchen was still buzzing with activity, and Manning found there was no space for him there. He passed through it and made his way to the dining room, where more members of Lin’s staff were still setting the long table. There was no place for him there either. The gallery was empty for the moment, so he slowed and took a moment to look at the artworks on display. Two Grecian-looking statues stood silent guard duty, flanking a long line of expensive paintings that were likely originals. Manning put his hands in his pockets again and examined them closely. They did not evoke much.

“Are you appreciative of the fine arts?”

Manning turned and found that Valerie Lin was standing only a few feet away. She had come in from the patio area, where a bar had been set up. She held a glass of white wine in one perfectly manicured hand. Her fine makeup accentuated her beauty, as it was intended. However, it did little to mask her exhaustion. She emanated a quiet desperation that Manning felt immediately.

“I’m unfortunately not much of a connoisseur,” he said. “I guess I’m more of a comic book kind of guy. But I think this one here must be a Picasso.”

She smiled faintly and nodded toward the painting Manning indicated. “Le Femme au Tambourin,” she said as she walked over. “Yes, a Picasso. My father-in-law paid almost eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars for it in New York City last year. He outbid my husband by one hundred thousand dollars. The two of them competed against each other for everything.”

“I see,” Manning said.

“Do you?” She turned from the painting and eyed him for a moment as she sipped from her glass. “That would be interesting if you did. You are-?”

“Jerome Manning. I work for your father-in-law.”

“Of course. You don’t look comfortable enough to be one of his business associates, and I’ve never seen you before. I’m Valerie Lin.”

She switched her wine glass to her left hand and extended her right. Manning shook her hand. Her grip was soft and warm.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Lin,” he said.

She released his hand and turned to regard the paintings on the wall. “Thank you, Mr. Manning. What is it that you do for my father-in-law?”

“Security. I do some work for him in Japan. At the Komeito Tower.”

“Really? What does he need you here for?”

Manning hadn’t really seen that one coming, even though it was an obvious question. “Mr. Lin has…well, his business interests are wide and varied, and he always likes to stay on top of things.”

“I’d thought that was what Alexsey was for,” she said.

“It is, but I represent his security interests in Japan. Our schedules happened to coincide, and he asked me here to brief him, and then asked me to stay for a while.”

She turned to him again. “Are you here to find my husband’s murderer?”

Manning worked on keeping his composure. Despite her loss, it was blindingly obvious that Valerie Lin was no dummy. It was also obvious that she had been through a lot; as she brought her wine glass to her lips, her hand trembled slightly.

“Mrs. Lin…I’m sorry, but that’s something you would really have to ask your father-in-law.”

She nodded after a moment, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush you that way.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Manning said.

“Yes. Well.” She looked up at him and forced a smile to her face. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Manning. I hope you enjoy the night.”

Manning nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. Same to you.”

He watched as she walked down the hallway, then stepped out onto the patio. The bar was suddenly looking pretty good right now.

The Chinese bartenders were dressed in black vests and trousers, and smiled broadly as Manning approached. He ordered and received a bottle of Anchor Steam beer, a San Francisco area favorite and wandered around the vast patio. The huge grill beside the house was already fired up, apparently in an effort to supplement the busy kitchen, and flavorful smoke wafted through the air. Manning’s stomach grumbled, and he realized he was hungry. Thankfully, a caterer walked past at the moment with a tray of fresh shu mai in bamboo steamers, and he helped himself to a few. They were excellent, light and steamed to perfection. It was almost a shame to drink the beer after sampling such a fine delicacy, but he did it anyway. At the far edge of the courtyard was a series of arches which terminated at a pavilion that overlooked the Bay. It was currently deserted, so Manning headed for it and stood there for several minutes, taking in the view. There was a low glass-topped table flanked by four wrought-iron chairs in the middle of the open pavilion, but he ignored them and chose to stand. It was a clear night, and the lights of downtown San Francisco glittered in the growing night. It was most certainly a million dollar vista. Despite everything, he had to admit that Lin had no shortage of taste to go along with his fortune.

He was compelled to call Ryoko in Japan, despite her wishes. It would be nice to hear her voice, and to find out how she was getting along. She would still be sleeping, of course. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked at it. His thumb stroked the keys idly. Finally, he returned it to his pocket. She expected him to respect her wishes, and forcing himself on her was not likely to impress her.

Footfalls caught his attention, and he turned from the beauty spread out before him. Lin was leading Ren Yun and the woman Manning had briefly spoken with toward the pavilion. Manning turned to head off across the lawn, but he was surprised by Ren’s gravelly voice. He spoke in rough Mandarin.

“No need to leave because of us,” he barked. “We’re only here to take in the view for a moment!”

“Mr. Ren says there is no need to leave,” the woman said instantly as the trio entered the pavilion. “He and Mr. Lin are-”

“Manning knows what he said,” Lin said in Mandarin. “Don’t you, Manning?”

Manning nodded. Ren looked dubious.

“You speak Mandarin?” he demanded.

“I do.”

Ren grunted and stepped closer to Manning, looking up at him. He was bald with a round face and dark complexion, and his eyes seemed too large for his head. With his thick lips and short neck, he resembled a Chinese frog. He was somewhat sloppy in appearance; even though he wore a tuxedo, it seemed too big at the shoulders but pulled too tight around his round belly. Comparing him to Lin’s polished appearance, it was not hard for Manning to imagine he was Mr. Hyde to Lin’s Dr. Jekyll.

“Do you also speak Shanghainese?” Ren asked.

“I do not.”

Ren grunted again and looked over at Lin. “Americans learn Mandarin but not Shanghainese? Well, I guess we can’t ask too much of them, Lin Yubo.”

Lin smiled and put a hand on Manning’s arm. “Manning, meet my close friend and associate, Ren Yun. He and I have been through an eternity together, and I consider him to be my brother.” To Ren: “This is Jerome Manning. He works for me in Japan.”

“Japan?” Ren echoed. He cackled suddenly and turned to Lin. “Don’t tell me he works with Chen?” Without waiting for Lin to answer, he turned back to Manning. “So you must be the White Tiger I’ve heard of!”

Manning looked over at Lin, who gave him a resigned nod. “There is little about my business dealings that Ren Yun does not know.”

“I do not know why the Bai Hu is here,” Ren groused. He looked at Lin flatly.

“A personal matter,” Lin replied.

Ren got the message and nodded. He looked back at Manning with a vague, sour smile.

“I wish you luck then, Manning.”

“Thank you, sir.” Manning glanced at Lin and had no difficulty reading his body language. He nodded to both men and smiled tightly. “I should be going-enjoy the view.”

“You may leave also. Lin Yubo and I have matters to discuss,” Ren said to his translator. He said this without looking at the elegant woman who stood slightly behind him. She inclined her head to his back, but both men had turned to regard the vista beyond with hooded eyes. Manning looked at her as he started down the flagstone walkway, but her expression was blank. Clearly, she was likely used to such casual dismissals. They were a part of life when working for the Chinese elite. When they were a short distance away, Manning glanced over his shoulder. Lin and Ren were dark silhouettes standing shoulder to shoulder.

“I would guess he’s always that brusque?” he asked her.

The woman looked at him for a moment, then at the courtyard they approached. “Mr. Ren has his way. I would imagine Mr. Lin does as well?”

Manning shrugged. “Can’t really say. I’m here for a short term assignment, so we don’t have a lot of casual interaction. Usually I get my instructions, and I’m on my way. I’m Jerry Manning, by the way.”

“Yes, I heard. I’m Maggie Shi.” She glanced at him again, but didn’t offer to shake hands. Manning let it go.

“Pleased to meet you. What’s your birth name?”

“My birth name?”

“Your Chinese name. I’d imagine Maggie isn’t your real name, right?”

She glanced at him again. “Most Americans wouldn’t ask that question,” she said. “They’d take what I gave them at face value.”

“I guess I’m not like most Americans.”

“Meihua,” she said after a moment.

“Beautiful Flower,” Manning said. “Or maybe, Beautiful Plum Blossom, depending on the interpretation.”

“Well done. You are certainly a scholar when it comes to names, Mr. Manning. Is this how you ingratiate yourself with Chinese ladies?”

She didn’t look at him when she said this, so he had no idea if she was joking. He glanced at her, but she rewarded him with only her profile.

“I spend most of my time in Japan, so there’s not a lot of opportunity to ingratiate any Chinese ladies, Ms. Shi.”

She stopped suddenly. Manning came to a halt and turned back to her. She looked at him speculatively, her features illuminated by the wan light sconces attached to the columns supporting the archway overhead.

“I did not mean to be rude,” she said suddenly. “If I sounded that way, I apologize. I don’t have much time for…for social interactions, I’m afraid.”

“It’s not a problem.” Manning offered his hand. “Let’s try again. I’m Jerome Manning.”

She smiled after a moment and accepted his hand. Her grasp was strong and warm.

“Shi Meihua,” she said. “You may call me Maggie, if you prefer.”

“Which do you prefer?”

Her smiled deepened after a moment, and she released his hand. “Shi Meihua would be interesting,” she said. “I never hear my name from foreigner’s lips.”

“An interesting way to phrase it, but very well-Shi Meihua it is.”

“Do you prefer Jerry or Jerome?” she asked.

“Either will do, and are preferable to Da Sha Gua,” he said, using the Chinese expression for big fool. She laughed suddenly, eyes wide.

“Do you know what that means?” she asked incredulously. “Oh-of course you do. It’s so odd, hearing a foreigner say things like that!”

“I’m sure you’ve met your share of whites who speak Mandarin. It’s not a rarity these days.”

She nodded. “True-but very few of them try to use humor. Especially self-deprecating humor. The foreigners Ren Yun associates with are usually high-level businessmen looking to make inroads into China, or those who have to sustain the inroads they’ve already built.”

Manning nodded back the way they had come, where the two men were only vaguely visible. “He’s like Lin? A corporate exec?”

“No. He’s nothing like Lin Yubo.”

Manning raised an eyebrow. “Government service, then? A vice minister, perhaps?”

She adopted a fey expression and turned her face away from him slightly. “I’m really not able to say. What is it you do for Lin Yubo, Jerry?”

Manning grinned. “Whatever he tells me to do.”

She clasped her hands in front of her and looked at him again. “And is that difficult?”

“It depends on what he asks me to do.”

“You said you spend most of your time in Japan? Do you live there, or…?”

He nodded. “I have a residence there, but I also live over in San Francisco. Lots of flights to Japan from here, so it makes for a good home base. I presume you live in China?”

“Hong Kong. Have you been there?”

“Of course. I enjoy it there. Hong Kong’s a bit easier for a foreigner than Japan. It’s more like New York City, only the MTR tends to run on time.”

Meihua laughed. “That it does.” She looked past his shoulder at the big mansion. The courtyard was filling up now as people made their way to the bar.

“It’s interesting that even wealth as great as this is never enough to buy happiness,” she said after a pause.

“You think Lin Yubo is unhappy with his life?”

She looked at him again but didn’t answer immediately. She smiled softly after a time and took a step toward him.

“Do you intend to stay for dinner, Jerry?”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t planned on it, nor do I think I’ve been formally invited. It seems more of a closed affair.”

“I won’t be staying either,” she said. “Ren Yun has already informed me he will not be requiring any additional translation services tonight, as he will remain here with Lin Yubo.”

“Really.” Manning met her gaze for a moment, trying to get a read on her. He presumed that her occupation was a lonely one, as man like Yun Ren required much but usually gave little in return. And for the uninitiated, America could seem a cold, forbidding place.

“Have you seen much of San Francisco?” he asked.

She only shook her head, her eyes still on his. He caught a trace of her perfume, a subtle scent that reminded him of lilacs. The aroma was suddenly arousing, leaving his senses tingling.

“We should find the opportunity to change that, then.”

Ryker stopped his Malibu beside the guard station at the end of the gated driveway and handed the invitation to the security guard on duty. The man checked it against whatever was written on his clipboard, then motioned toward the driveway.

“Valets will take your car,” he said.

“Any chance they’ll lose it?” Ryker asked dryly.

The guard smirked and stepped back into his shack. Ryker took his foot off the brake and accelerated up the winding driveway. It was a long one, and it was not lost on Ryker that Lin had likely chosen the villa for its remoteness. He pulled up at the end of a long covered walkway and stepped out of the car. A Hispanic man in a red vest hurried toward him, and handed him a small card with the number 16 on it. Ryker wondered if a tip was in order, but if it was, the valet didn’t wait for it. He hopped inside Ryker’s car and drove away immediately. Ryker put his hands in his pockets and watched the taillights fade away for a moment, then slowly turned and regarded the mansion behind him. That it was huge and impressive was not surprising. He ambled up the walkway and showed his invitation to the man at the door, and was immediately granted entry. Ryker nodded his thanks and stepped inside the gigantic mansion.

The outright affluence of the entry hall alone was enough to take his breath away. Gleaming marble floors, gold lame on the ceilings, artful wainscoting abounded. Partygoers reveled deeper in the house, and a tuxedoed butler waved Ryker on.

“You’ll find most of the guests in the courtyard, sir.” With his pallor and accent, he could only be British.

“Thanks,” Ryker said. “Is Lin there, as well?”

The butler looked at him with vacant eyes. “Mr. Lin is also present, of course.”

Ryker nodded and headed down the long hallway, hands still in his pockets. He glanced at the artwork on the walls, and found he recognized some of the signatures. It appeared that Lin favored the finer things in life, even if some of those things were mere decorations. It was not lost on Ryker that his entire net worth might not even be enough to fill a simple 6 inch by 6 inch frame.

What the hell am I doing here, he asked himself, for the thousandth time. He knew the answer, of course. He just didn’t want to articulate it to himself. Still, it rose in his mind, completely against his will.

Because she might be here.

Slowly, his reluctant feet delivered him to the sprawling courtyard where most of the revelers had congregated. Some of them regarded Ryker with expressions that ranged from near-dismissal to outright interest. From his suit alone, it was obvious he did not fly in the same rarified air as they did. It didn’t take much to determine he was an outsider.

He made his way to the bar and asked what beer was available. He barely recognized some of the names, so he settled on a gin and tonic. He walked toward the pool area, the babble of English and Chinese and even some other languages assaulting his ears. Most of the conversations he couldn’t understand; even those he could were completely uninteresting. Ryker felt lost as he sipped his drink and scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face.

He found one in Manning. The tall man met his gaze from across the courtyard, and he lifted his beer bottle in a gentle salute. He stood with a Chinese woman who looked nothing like Valerie Lin-she was too tall, too hard, and her face was perhaps a touch on the severe side. Ryker nodded back and turned away, looking out at the gleaming vista of San Francisco twinkling in the distance. It was a definite jetliner view. Despite his discomfort, Ryker found it to be a pleasant evening. The slight breeze uncharacteristically warm and dry.

“Didn’t think you’d make it, detective sergeant.”

Ryker turned and found Manning and the Chinese woman were standing behind him. She took in the view while Manning looked at him.

“My dance card was a little empty tonight,” Ryker told him.

“So this isn’t a conflict of interest? You showing up here while you’re in the middle of your investigation?”

Ryker reached into his jacket and pulled out a notebook. “I can interview people here more easily than when I’m rousting them at work or at their homes, right?”

Manning nodded. “So no play for you, eh?”

Ryker shook his head as he slipped the notebook back inside his jacket. “Unlikely.” He looked at the woman standing next to Manning. Her gaze was cool.

“Maggie Shi, meet Detective Sergeant Ryker. Sorry, I’ve forgotten your first name-”

“Hal,” Ryker said, extending his hand toward Maggie. “Hal Ryker. Pleased to meet you, Miss Shi.” He couldn’t quite pronounce the name the same way Manning had, and he wondered if that would be considered insulting.

“Good evening, Mr. Ryker. What brings you here?” Her grip was strong and firm, nothing dainty about it.

Ryker didn’t know how to answer that. “Police business,” he muttered.

“Oh? What business is that?”

“Ryker’s investigating what happened to Lin Yubo’s son,” Manning said softly.

Her expression did not change, but her eyes remained on Ryker for a long moment, sizing him up. The examination did little to make him feel at ease.

“It would be wrong of you to use this night to your advantage,” she said finally.

Ryker sipped his drink and glanced at Manning. “The law never sleeps, Miss Shi.”

“Of course not. But you should respect Lin Yubo, and not use this occasion to treat the people attending this event as suspects.”

Ryker sipped his drink again and turned away from her. He took in the view instead. “Sounds like you don’t care for the police, Miss Shi.”

“That’s not what I meant. I have no problem with policemen.”

Manning cut in. “I think what Maggie is trying to say is that this is a social gathering. Lin has lots of important folks here. And face it Ryker, you have the social skills of a pirate.”

Ryker smiled and looked over his shoulder at Manning. “Think I was too rough on you at the station?”

Manning shrugged. “I’ve been treated worse. But you probably don’t want to unwind the same attitude here, especially since your jurisdiction is way over there.” He pointed to the lights of San Francisco, twinkling in the distance.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Ryker said. He scanned the rest of the crowd in the courtyard. Everyone was in their silken fineries, doing their best to look important and successful even if they weren’t. Ryker was definitely among the lower class here, barely at the level of the hired help.

“Just try not to be the bull in the china shop,” Manning said. “I imagine Lin invited you here to take in the crowd anyway.”

That seemed to capture Maggie’s interest. “You think Lin Dan’s-” She stopped herself and glanced around, then continued with her voice bordering on a whisper. “You think Lin Dan’s killer might be here?”

Manning shrugged. “Not my department. What do you think, Ryker?”

“Like I said before: the law never sleeps.” But the truth of the matter was, no one in the courtyard looked out of place. Some might have felt uncomfortable with the charade they were playing, but they had been at it for a long while and hid their true feelings well. And most of the guests were Chinese. They spoke a different language, were intimate with different customs that Ryker had only glimpsed through movies, books, and the occasional job in Chinatown. If Danny Lin’s killer was among them, she had picked the perfect camouflage. There was no way Ryker could get any traction without shaking things up, and that wouldn’t be very wise. Danny Lin’s murder was a political time bomb, and Ryker didn’t want it blowing up in his face.

“But who knows,” he continued. “Maybe. You think one of Lin’s people might have killed Danny, Manning?”

“I’m not saying anything of the sort. But in my line of work, we poke around in the immediate area before casting the net wide.”

Ryker sipped his drink again. “And just what is your business, anyway? And don’t give me that corporate security horse shit again.”

Manning smiled. “Later, Ryker. I’m sure we’ll be talking again at the stationhouse tomorrow.” He paused. “Try not to be a prick this time.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Ryker watched as Manning and the Shi woman disappeared into the courtyard. Ryker took in some more of the view and finished his drink, then handed the glass to one of the many waiters navigating through the crowd. He walked around the edge of the courtyard and examined the partygoers openly. There was no need to be discreet about it. Manning was right, the only reason Lin invited him was on the off chance that he might ferret out something among his inner circle. He was still a cop working a case, and he acted like it.

Until he saw Valerie Lin.

She stood near the patio, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. She had seen him before he had noticed her, and she didn’t smile when their eyes met. But she didn’t look away either, and that alone made Ryker’s heart start to pound. He’d hoped she would be here, and now that he found she was, he felt as nervous as a schoolboy on his first date. Was it because she was Lin’s daughter-in-law? Was she still considered so in the eyes of Chinese society, even though her husband was dead?

Well, we’ve seen each other. Let’s get on with it.

Ryker cut through the crowd, heading her way. He noticed Lin standing amidst a small group of people, and from the corner of his eye, Ryker saw Lin watching him as he walked through the partygoers. Ryker didn’t let that deter him for a moment. He couldn’t care what Lin thought about anything at the moment. He refocused his entire attention on Valerie Lin, still standing by the open sliding doors that led into the mansion. She watched his approach, and gave no indication if she welcomed it. Ryker didn’t quite know what to make of it, but he didn’t allow it to deter him.

“Mrs. Lin,” he said when stopped in front of her, hands in his pockets.

“Detective Ryker. I’m surprised to see you here.”

“And I’m equally surprised to be here, at your father-in-law’s request.” He turned and nodded to where Lin stood, still surrounded by his adoring public. Ryker noticed another man in the group, one of Lin’s contemporaries who resembled a frog, looked at him and Valerie as well.

“That’s some dress,” he said, when he turned back to her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, of course. So…are you doing well?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I’m…doing as well as can be expected. I’m wondering why Lin Yubo invited you here, however. You’re not really…not really his type of person.”

But am I yours? he wanted to ask. But of course, he didn’t. One drink wasn’t enough to make him lose all control, and saying such a thing would be the next best thing to suicide as far as this woman went.

“I suspect he wanted me to have a look at the rest of the guests. He didn’t say any such thing to me, but that’s really the only reason I can think of that Danny Lin’s father would allow me to even get close to this place.” He looked up at the mansion that towered over them. “As you said, I’m not really this kind of guy.”

She looked at him with her flat, expressionless eyes for a long moment. “I would like to ask you a question. Was my husband responsible for the death of the Young woman?”

The question came out of left field and Ryker bobbled it for several moments, not sure what to do with it. He decided to catch it and play ball.

“I believe he had more than just something to do with it, yes.”

“And my father-in-law made that go away.”

“Same answer. Why are you interested in this now?”

She shrugged. “When I married Lin Dan, I was still…an innocent girl. But over the years, I grew to know him quite well. He was not someone I admired.” She looked around the courtyard, at the beautiful people, the rich and shameless, as they mingled and spoke and smoked and drank and ignored both her and Ryker. “I just wanted to know the truth of the matter, but I think I always did.”

Ryker said nothing.

Valerie looked around the courtyard once again. “I don’t want to be here. I want to leave.”

Ryker nodded.

She looked at him significantly. “Do you want me to leave, Sergeant Ryker?”

“I…” It took a moment, but Ryker figured it out. “Yes, if you want to leave, you-”

She turned and walked into the house without saying anything further. Ryker watched her go for a moment, then straightened his jacket and looked around. Lin still watched him, and Ryker was torn. How to play this?

Only one way.

Ryker stepped into the house and followed Valerie Lin’s wake as keenly as a Great White shark would follow a ribbon of blood in a dark sea.

“Manning.” Baluyevsky’s voice was just as brittle and intrusive as ever. Manning sighed and turned away from Maggie. The big Russian stood at the end of the hall, and his body language said it all: Come with me.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” he said to Maggie in Mandarin.

“Of course.”

Manning nodded his thanks and walked toward Baluyevsky. The Russian faded back into the security center, and Manning followed him inside. The same operator sat facing the monitors, and Baluyevsky pointed to the one that showed the main dining area.

“Mr. Lin and his primary guests are sitting down to dinner, and the rest of the guests will begin their departures. You are no longer required. Mr. Lin wants you to go to the police station tomorrow and get another update from Ryker.”

“Very well.”

“Did you notice Sergeant Ryker left immediately after Lin Dan’s wife?” Baluyevsky asked. He strove for a conversational tone, but failed miserably.

“I noticed no such thing, nor is it at all relevant to what I’m here to do. Unless you feel Mrs. Lin is a potential method for Ryker to use to expose the murderer?”

“That is why I bring it up. Is she?”

“I don’t know, Alexsey. My job is to look after the law enforcement side. I’d thought that you and Lin had the family relations angle under control?”

“I leave nothing to chance. I do not think she is involved in her husband’s murder. But she may have some information. And now it looks as if she has left with the policeman.”

Manning spread his hands. “So?”

“So? So we expect you to find out from Ryker what he was talking about with Mrs. Lin.” Baluyevsky pointed to a monitor. Manning hadn’t noticed it was a freeze frame of Ryker and Valerie Lin, apparently speaking on the back patio. He looked at the image and sighed.

“You recorded them?”

“Video only. We have no audio pickups there.”

“I’ll see what I can find out during tomorrow’s meeting with Ryker. But if it’s not in the murder book, he’s not going to tell me anything about it.”

Baluyevsky wasn’t impressed. “You must find a way.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Then you may start now. Your services are no longer needed for the rest of this evening.”

That brightened Manning’s day. “And to think I thought you were just another Russian ass. Thanks, Alexsey.”

Baluyevsky’s face darkened, and he drew closer to Manning, towering over him. Most men would have been intimidated. Manning was not most men. “Do not try and ‘press my buttons’, Manning. You will not like what happens.”

“You better remember who came to who, Baluyevsky. And don’t ever walk up on me, unless you want to take this to the next level.”

Baluyevsky thought about that for a moment, then turned and opened the door. “You may leave.”

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.”

Manning returned to the hallway. Maggie had disappeared, and he spent several minutes winding his way through the mansion, looking for her. He finally found her stepping in from the courtyard.

“I wanted to get another look at the city,” she explained.

“Feel like getting a close up?” Manning asked.

She smiled slightly, her eyes fixed on his. Something flickered in them, and Manning wondered what it was. Desire? Anticipation? He could only hope to find out.

“I would like that very much,” she said.

Manning led her to the front door.

Maggie Shi had no idea what she was doing.

She allowed Manning to lead her to his car, and buckled herself into the passenger seat while he started the vehicle and pulled away from the Lin estate. As the tremendous mansion faded from view behind them, the car glided through the darkness, heading toward the Golden Gate Bridge. Manning didn’t make much small talk, and neither did she. Not that he needed to. She knew what he did, and she knew who he was after.

So why am I with him? she asked herself. What am I doing here?

She couldn’t find her answer, no matter how deeply she searched for it.

Or, more realistically, she couldn’t find an answer she liked.

Like Manning, she had seen Danny Lin’s wife depart with the police detective hot on her heels. She knew how to read body language, and while the cues from non-Asians were slightly more difficult for her to interpret, there was no mistaking what she saw. Both Lin Dan’s wife and the policeman Ryker were aroused by each other.

Maggie was thankful. Not just for the fact that the detective had been lured away from Lin estate. While she had been as careful as humanly possible to avoid all security during her murder of Lin Dan, the American police were very good at reassembling puzzles even when several pieces were missing. Not having Ryker on hand was better than having him underfoot. She was also thankful the Lin widow had someone to occupy her time, now that her vile husband was gone forever. She hoped that Ryker would bring her much pleasure.

She had left with Manning for the same reason as the Lin woman had lured away the detective. But there was a difference in their circumstances. Valerie Lin was doubtless emerging from behind a thick shell of repression and needed to experience the sensations of being desired again. This was something Maggie understood; in fact, as she glanced sidelong at Manning beside her, she felt much the same thing. Unlike Valerie Lin, this would be the final time Maggie would be made to feel desirable. It was unlikely that she would have the opportunity ever again.

She was surprised to see that Manning took her directly to his home without any attempt at subterfuge. No anti-surveillance maneuvers, barely nothing more than an occasional glance in the rearview mirror. He lived in a secure apartment building, though Maggie thought the “security” was a joke. Apparently, Manning did as well; as he parked his black GTO in the garage, he kept an eye on the mirrors as the door slid closed, and remained just as watchful even after he had exited the vehicle. He walked to the passenger side and opened Maggie’s door for her. She thanked him, then allowed him to lead her to his apartment directly. It was on the third floor, only a short elevator ride away. The unit was a two-bedroom affair, certainly not elaborate, but not cheap either-she knew San Francisco had the highest rents in the United States, and where Manning lived in Russian Hill was never considered cheap even in the worst of economies. It was sparsely furnished, though if by design or circumstance she could not tell. She knew Manning spent most of his time in Asia, so it seemed reasonable that his U.S. presence needn’t be terribly upscale. There were a few photos on the wall, most of them with a blond-haired woman and a young boy whose hair was darker. There was no official portrait, but Maggie saw much of Manning in the boy.

“My family,” he told her in a flat voice. “They were killed in a car accident in 2003, when I was in Afghanistan.”

Maggie nodded slowly. She knew all about the pain, the outright agony, such a loss could leave in its wake. She looked at Manning and studied him for a long moment. He stood beside her and looked at the photo with clear eyes, his face immobile, his body at rest. Though she doubted he could ever grow used to the fact his family was among the departed, it did seem that he had accepted it.

She didn’t know whether to judge that as a weakness or a strength.

Instead, she took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

The sexing was urgent, driven by a sudden desire that almost consumed her entirely. Two strong orgasms failed to even dent it. She climbed atop Manning and slowly impaled herself on him, then stretched out on his body and rocked her hips up and down. Their bodies slammed together in a hurried rhythm, their lips together, tongues touching as she pistoned up and down his length. He held out for as long as he could, and her next orgasm tore through her like a grenade blast. She felt her desire begin to unwind then, slowly uncoiling like a constrictor releasing its dead prey, only to have another wave of pleasure slam into her. She screamed into Manning’s mouth, and a moment later he moaned as he fired into her again and again and again.