White Tiger

CHAPTER 24

The high rise office building was mostly vacant, save for maintenance and janitorial workers. Few tenant employees were about, which made things a bit easier; there were fewer people to see Manning hustle Lin inside through the parking garage. He was stopped at security, and he was surprised to see the same two security guards who had greeted him on his first visit.

“You guys work around the clock?” Manning asked.

“Ha. We work in shifts,” the 20-something said. He looked at Lin and nodded respectfully. “Hello, sir.”

Lin nodded back, but that was it.

“We’re going to forty-five,” Manning said. “We’ll probably have some food deliveries and stuff like that. If anyone else comes in with access to that floor, please let us know. You can call Mr. Lin’s office direct, and I’ll answer the phone.”

“Something going on?” This came from the older guard. He slowly edged toward them from behind the lobby desk, his eyes flat and expressionless. The eyes of an ex-cop.

“Mr. Lin has some serious issues with a business unit in China. He needs access to the corporate network, including secure files and the like which aren’t accessible from his home. And some of that work is classified. He wants to be notified if anyone enters the floor.” Manning looked from one guard to the other. “Is that going to be a problem?”

The older guard ignored Manning and looked at Lin. “Mr. Lin, is everything all right?”

Lin looked properly indignant. “Yes, yes, everything is fine! Please do as my man tells you!” He then turned and marched for the elevator bay.

The older guard nodded sourly and directed Manning toward the metal detector. “You know the drill.”

“I have a building permit allowing me to carry my weapon in the building.” Manning pulled the plastic card from his wallet and showed it to the two guards. The older one examined it critically.

“I’ll be back with this.” He moved to a computer station on the other side of the long lobby desk and started tapping keys. After a time, he was returned and handed the card back to Manning. His expression never changed. “Okay, you’re clear. You expecting any shooting?”

Manning put the card back in his wallet. “I always expect shooting, chief.”

The elevator ride to the 45th floor was uneventful. Manning preceded Lin out of the elevator and ensured everything outside the elevator bay was secure. Lin swiped his access card at the lobby doors, and Manning stepped into the office beyond. He reconnoitered the immediate area, but he couldn’t look in each and every cube and leave Lin alone in the elevator bay. He waved Lin inside, and the lobby doors clicked shut behind him, the magnetic locks doing what they were supposed to do.

“Where’s your office?”

Lin pointed to the far side of the floor. “That way. In the corner.”

Of course. Manning conducted Lin to his office immediately, keeping one hand on the man’s bony shoulder and the other on his sidearm. There was a fair amount of territory to cover, but most of the floor was open; the cubes were up front, where support staff met. Manning ushered Lin down a hallway lined with lustrous mahogany wood and a subtle veined marble-tiled floor. As they passed the darkened executive offices, Manning marveled at the absolute luxury each office embodied. It was obvious that Lin and his people lived life on the high side.

Lin’s office was bordered by a secretary station and a waiting room complete with rich leather chesterfield chairs. Unlike his sumptuous home, Lin’s office was surprisingly minimalist; a small meeting area, a leather couch, a wide desk and a single high-backed leather chair. The furnishings were all top-class, but there was something cold, antiseptic about the office. Manning thought it was an accurate reflection of the man himself. The vertical office blinds were open. He steered Lin toward his desk and looked for a way to close them.

“Here.” Lin pressed a button on his desk, and the blinds automatically closed. Manning nodded and checked the ensuite restroom, noting that it was complete with a shower and bidet in addition to the requisite toilet and sink. He was almost surprised to see the commode wasn’t fashioned out of gold. He went through the linen closet there, and then the coat closet in the office. Despite the size of the office, it didn’t afford an assassin many places to hide. Just the same, he executed due diligence and checked behind the couch and the credenza that sat along one wall.

“Is that completely necessary,” Lin asked.

“It’s your life, Lin Yubo. You tell me.”

Lin sighed and started to pull out his desk chair to sit down, but Manning was at his side in an instant. He pushed Lin away and checked beneath the desk, and then checked the chair itself. Lin watched this with some amusement.

“You think my sons’ killer is inside the chair?”

“I think your sons’ killer is crafty, and might have taken a page or two from the terrorism playbook. Booby trapped furnishings is about as old as dirt.”

“I see,” Lin said.

Manning went through the desk drawers carefully, ignoring Lin’s disapproving stare. He moved quickly but efficiently, not caring about the specific contents. He found no tripwires, no electronics, no detonators or plastic explosives-the most menacing thing he found was a letter opener crafted from pure silver.

And a small Walther PPS pistol. Manning looked at Lin as he pulled the weapon from the drawer and inspected it.

“Do you know how to use this?”

Lin’s voice carried the requisite affront. “Do you think I’m a fool, Manning? For what reason would I have something I did not know how to use?”

Manning ejected the magazine and looked at the ammunition. The pistol fired.40 caliber rounds, and all looked fairly new. He slapped the mag back into place and pulled back the slide. A round was already in the chamber. Manning released the slide and placed the weapon on the desk.

“Keep that on you.”

“You think I’ll need it? Aren’t you here to guard me?”

“If you need it, I’ll be dead.” Manning waved toward the chair. “You might as well have a seat. And think about where you want to order lunch from.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Manning checked his watch. “You will be later, and this is going to take a while.”

Lin sat in his chair and slid it toward his desk. He picked up the Walther and turned it over in his hand, examining it closely. He put it back on the desk after a moment and looked up at Manning.

“My secretary orders for me.”

Manning pointed to the computer on Lin’s desk. “Then start surfing the web, Lin Yubo. Find a place that delivers…but not one that’s too close. Just in case.”

Lin sighed again and switched on the computer. Manning left the office and stepped into the secretary’s area. He closed the outer door, then dragged the secretary’s rolling chair inside Lin’s office and closed the door behind him. He rolled the chair over to Lin’s desk and sat down at one end, and started playing the waiting game.

Chee Wei drove his sparkling Lexus up Interstate 101 as if it was a fighter jet and he was hot on a bogey’s tail. Ryker sat in the passenger seat, fairly terrified as the young detective weaved in and out of the light traffic, pushing the car hard, even across the Golden Gate Bridge. He tailgated incessantly and changed lanes without even touching the turn signal, all the while listening to blaring, saccharine-sweet Canto-pop music that did nothing to ease Ryker’s tension. All Ryker could do was sit like a statue in his leather seat and try not to shit his pants.

It got worse across the bridge, when Chee Wei accelerated up the twisting roads like he was trying to win the Nextel Cup, blasting through the shifts, cutting over into the opposite lane so he could pass slower-moving traffic. When he narrowly avoided hitting a moving truck head-on, Ryker reached out and turned down the music. He heard the truck’s blaring horn fade behind them.

“Isn’t this car great?” Chee Wei said before Ryker could speak. He grinned like a school girl after her first kiss.

“You know, we’re not going to get any answers if we roll up to Lin’s place dead.”

Chee Wei looked over at him while still accelerating, and Ryker pressed himself back in his seat as the rear bumper of a minivan loomed seemingly just outside the windshield. Chee Wei stood on the brakes and slowed the Lexus suddenly, a look of disappointment on his face.

“Shit, Hal. You’d think you were scared, or something. Live a little, pal!”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do-live. Now please…drive like a sane person. Okay?”

Chee Wei looked properly downtrodden. “What the hell do I look like, a grandmother? This is a Lexus sports car, man! It’s an IS F!”

“As if that means anything? What, if we crash, we won’t die?”

Chee Wei pouted and did as Ryker asked, keeping the Lexus high-performance sedan traveling at a more leisurely pace. But just to demonstrate his angst, he turned up the stereo and sang with the music. Thankfully the music was so loud that Ryker couldn’t really hear his warbling voice.

Eventually they made it to the Lin estate. The guard manning the gate looked at the Lexus with a dour expression. He wore a sharply pressed gray uniform and walked with military precision. He was also armed, and had a radio transceiver clipped to one shoulder epaulet.

“Help you?” he said.

Chee Wei showed him his badge. “Detective Fong, S.F.P.D., along with Detective Sergeant Ryker. We’re investigating the Lin Dan murder.”

“So?”

“So? So? So open the gate, huh?”

The guard looked at Chee Wei’s identification card, which was next to his badge. “S.F.P.D.? A little outside of your jurisdiction, right?”

Ryker leaned toward Chee Wei and caught the guard’s eye. “Maybe you should call the house. Tell Lin we’re here to see him. After all, it was his son who got killed. Maybe he wouldn’t take too kindly to you holding us up?”

“Yeah well, maybe. Of course, he’s not here.”

Ryker frowned. “Where did he go?”

“Didn’t say. He doesn’t exactly report to me, you know.” The guard put his hands in his pockets.

“What about his guest? Mister Ren.”

“What about him?”

“Listen, we don’t have a lot of time. We need to get inside. You going to open the gate?”

“You have an appointment?”

Ryker unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car. Chee Wei started to say something, then closed his mouth. Ryker looked over the car’s roof at the guard with steely eyes.

“Do yourself a favor. Call your boss. Tell him who’s here. Tell him we need access to Mr. Ren. Because if you don’t, rent-a-cop, I might just have to break my foot off in your ass.”

The security guard glared at Ryker for a long moment, then shot him a crooked smile. He reached for the radio at his shoulder and spoke into it as he walked back to his little shack. Ryker didn’t hear the answer, for he stepped inside the structure and pulled the door halfway closed. Ryker kept standing outside of Chee Wei’s idling car.

The gate slid open, and the guard waved them through. Ryker got back into the car without thanking the guard, and Chee Wei accelerated the Lexus up the driveway.

“Gosh Hal, think you were a little harsh on the guy?” he said.

Ryker chuckled. “Never underestimate the power of the po-po.”

Chee Wei pulled up into the huge drive in front of the mansion and slipped the Lexus’s transmission into park when the front door opened and a man in a suit stepped out of the house. Ryker made out the telltale bulges of a radio and a sidearm under his jacket immediately. He threw open his door and stepped out of the car. The man walked toward the vehicle and stopped by the front left fender as Chee Wei got out himself.

“Gentlemen, I’m Christian Nyby. How can I help you?”

“Ryker and Fong, San Francisco Police. We’re actively working the Danny Lin murder case. I’m sure you know about that.” Ryker looked from the man to the imposing mansion behind him, eyes scanning the windows, looking for anyone who might be watching. He caught a glimpse of movement in one of the second story windows as someone pulled open a drape. And there was Ren Yun, glaring down at Ryker and the others as if they were nothing more than putrid waste that hadn’t gone down the toilet on the first flush.

“I do know that, but I’ll still need to see your identifications, if that’s all right,” the security man said.

Chee Wei pulled his and handed it over. Ryker slowly walked around the car and reached for his. Nyby checked the IDs, then handed them back. He looked at Ryker for a long moment, and Ryker looked back.

“What?”

“Weren’t you wearing that suit last night?” Nyby asked.

Ryker ignored the question, and Chee Wei’s inquisitive expression. His only response was to stare at Nyby as if he was a common hood. Nyby got the message.

“Anyway, Mister Lin isn’t here. So I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.” Nyby smiled sympathetically, but it looked 100 % false. “Maybe next time, you can call ahead, save yourself some trouble.”

“We need to speak with Ren. Is he still here?”

Nyby didn’t miss a beat. “Mr. Ren isn’t available, I’m afraid.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Ryker nodded to the second floor window where Ren stood watching them. He was now smoking a cigarette. “Seems to me he’s pretty free at the moment.”

Nyby turned and looked up. His expression didn’t change a bit when he faced the policemen again.

“As I said. Mister Ren is not available.”

Ryker put his hands on his hips. “Let me talk to your boss. What’s his name, Baluyevsky?”

Something flickered behind Nyby’s eyes at the mention of his boss, and Ryker caught it like a shark seizing a fish in its teeth.

“What happened to the Russian?” he asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nyby said.

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s total bullshit,” Chee Wei added. He must have seen the flicker as well, and he took a couple of steps toward Nyby. “What are you hiding, Nyby?”

Nyby stepped back, keeping both men in sight. “I’m hiding nothing. No one is available to speak with you gentlemen now. Next time, please call ahead, or bring a warrant.”

Chee Wei’s cell phone was in his hand in a flash. “I’ll get a telephone warrant right now. Marin and San Francisco counties have full reciprocity, did you know that? I can get a Marin county judge to sign off on a warrant, and a Tiburon detective will deliver it.”

“Fuck that.” Ryker walked directly to the house. Nyby started to reach out and stop him, but thought twice about it. He tried to put himself between Ryker and house instead.

“You can’t go in there. It’s private property, and you’re not even in your jurisdiction! We’ll have your badge for this!”

“And I’ll have Danny Lin’s killer. A suitable trade, right? Now get out of the way, pencil neck.” Ryker slipped past Nyby as Chee Wei approached him from the other side, his hand already resting on the butt of his pistol. Nyby saw the stance and kept his hand well away from his own weapon, but he continued to try and block Ryker.

“You can’t go in there!” he said.

“Then call the police. I think you’re hiding something, so I’m pretty sure you’ll be happy to have them roll up, right?”

Nyby faltered slightly at that, and Ryker pushed past him. He threw open the great wooden door and walked into the house, his footfalls echoing loudly in the granite entry hall.

“What is it that you want with me,” Ren said. Ryker determined his manner to be a combination of imperious, surly, and just plain nasty as they sat in second floor library. The same room Ren had looked down at them from. If he’d known Ryker and Chee Wei had been looking for him, Ryker was certain he wouldn’t have exposed himself at the window.

Chee Wei translated the statement into English for Ryker. Ren maintained he didn’t speak English, so Chee Wei was stuck with the translation duty. The suited Ryker fine; at least he could trust his own partner. Another Chinese man and Nyby stood in the room as well. The Chinese man hadn’t been introduced, but he was one of Lin’s people. Not a security guard, probably more of a personal assistant, Ryker guessed. He had offered to translate on behalf of Ren, but Ryker had refused.

“Tell him we’re going to talk about the days in China when he was with the Communist party. Specifically, tell him we’re going to talk about his meeting with Lin Jong before coming to the United States.”

Chee Wei looked at him oddly. “This guy-?”

Ryker nodded. “This guy was meeting with Lin Jong around the time he was iced.” Behind him, Ryker heard both Nyby and the Chinese man stir uneasily.

Chee Wei told Ren what Ryker had said. At the mention of Lin Jong’s name (this time with the proper intonation, something that had escaped Ryker completely), the old man’s eyes grew even more hooded. He lit another cigarette with a cheap lighter and flicked ashes into the standing ashtray beside his chair. Chee Wei translated his replies for Ryker.

“What business is that of yours?”

“The murder of Lin Jong directly relates to the murder of Lin Dan. This makes it our business.”

“Talk to the Shanghai police.”

“They’re not interested in sharing the details of a murder case they are actively investigating. And I don’t think they could tell me what you can tell me, Mister Ren.”

Ren snorted and blew smoke from his nostrils. “And what makes you think I’ll tell you anything? Why should I even talk to you? Have I broken any of your laws?”

“None,” Ryker said. “But you might have information that could save your friend’s life. We believe that as of right now, James Lin is in great danger, and that whoever killed his sons is now coming for him.”

Ren listened to Chee Wei’s translation. He puffed on his cigarette for a long moment as he thought this over. He then nodded to the Chinese man standing next to Nyby by the door. The two men left, closing the door behind them almost soundlessly. Ren looked at Ryker directly.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why were you meeting with Lin’s eldest son in Shanghai?”

“I’m here on business. Lin Jong was the president of the business unit my organization deals with in Shanghai. This was an official business-to-business visit. Lin Jong was acting as his father’s intermediary, and was kind enough to arrange for the appropriate visas and such. And as he is the son of my oldest friend, it was my duty to ensure he was well taken care of during his time in Shanghai.”

“Taken care of how, exactly?”

“Dinners. Entertainment. Not whores or drugs, like you think. That’s not my job.”

“Who was Lin Jong involved with in China?”

“I would have no idea.”

“The son of your oldest friend? The man you sponsored back into the Communist Party after Mao died? The man who oversaw the purges in Shanghai? And you have no idea who a man as important to you as Lin Jong was involved with?”

Ren glared at Ryker for a moment, then stubbed out his cigarette. He folded his hands across his belly and leaned back in the rich, leather chair he sat in. He looked up at the wood-paneled ceiling for a moment.

“I see you’re very well informed,” he said after a time. “How did you get such information?”

“From China, of course. But I’m not at liberty to discuss the workings of nation-to-nation cooperation.”

Ren snorted again and looked at Chee Wei. He said something that Chee Wei didn’t translate right away, and whatever it was, it pissed off the younger detective. He stared at Ren angrily.

“Hey, what did he say?” Ryker asked.

“He said that if anyone in my family passed that information off to us, that person was now dead,” Chee Wei said. His voice was hard, stony, and he kept his gaze locked with Ren’s. “This guy’s a fucking maggot.”

“Tell him he’s a fool. Tell him the Shanghai police are working with us directly, that they need to save face by solving Lin Jong’s murder. Then tell him to answer my last question: Who was Lin Jong boffing in China?”

Chee Wei fired away in strident, rapid-fire Mandarin. Ren Yun reached for another cigarette and lit it with his cheap lighter. He exhaled smoke, and it refracted the light coming in from the window behind him, adding a cathedral-like effect to the room.

“I have no idea who Lin Jong was seeing in Shanghai. He was a handsome young man. I have no doubt he did not lack for companionship. But he was discreet, very much unlike his younger brother. Lin Jong was brought up in a different time than Lin Dan. Excesses were not easily obtained, and if they were, they were never overlooked. Punishment was a constant in China in those days-not like today, where every red prince has a harem of women following him around all day, every day. Lin Jong was mindful of his place in our society, and equally mindful of his father’s station. And mine. He would not compromise us with an open dalliance. But I do not mean to say he had no one. I simply mean to say I do not know who that person, or persons, might be.”

“Who from your entourage met with him?”

“Which entourage? I have staff in China, and here with me.”

“Those here in the United States.”

“Myself. My secretary. My chief of staff. My travel affairs assistant.”

“May we have their names?”

Ren Yun rattled off the names, and Chee Wei wrote them down on his pad. He handed the list over to Ryker. He read it without any sign of emotion, then handed the pad back to Chee Wei. One of the names suddenly tickled his memory.

“This person named Shi. It’s a woman, right? Does she go by the name Maggie in the West?”

“She is my travel affairs assistant. Also my primary English translator when I travel abroad. And yes, she uses a Western name when traveling.”

“She met Lin Jong?”

“Of course.”

“What of Lin Dan?”

“I do not know. I very much doubt it. You can’t tell me you suspect her? Her record is impeccable.”

Ryker ignored Ren’s protest. “Did she arrive with you?”

“No. She arrived much earlier, to prepare things in advance of my arrival. She…” Ren stopped suddenly, a confused expression crossing his frog-like features. He puffed on his cigarette, a bid to buy time. Ryker felt a flash of anticipation surge through his gut. He was on the right track, and he knew it, knew it deep down. He leaned forward in his chair.

“Continue, Mister Ren. Tell me about Shi’s arrival date.”

Ren puffed on the cigarette furiously and stabbed it out in the ashtray. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Ryker with an expression of disgust.

“It’s coincidence only,” he said.

“Explain that, Mister Ren.”

“She left for the United States the night Lin Jong was believed to have been murdered…or at least, that’s what the Shanghai police think. But it’s coincidence. Complete coincidence.”

“I met this woman last night, Mister Ren. Now that I look back upon it, I very much think she is someone we would be very interested in speaking with. Where is she?”

Ren reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I will call her.”

“That would be wonderful, but don’t mention the police.”

Ren nodded. “I understand.” He hit a speed dial combination and put the phone to his ear. He listened for a moment, then shook his head at Ryker as he spoke. He didn’t talk for long and disconnected quickly.

“Voice mail,” Chee Wei said.

“Where might she be, Mr. Ren?” Ryker asked.

“I dismissed her last night. I won’t require her services again until next week, when I meet with a committee representing the San Francisco Bay.”

“Do you know where she’s staying?”

“Of course. At the Grand Hyatt in San Francisco. Room seven one three. Do you want me to call the room?” Ren raised his cell phone.

“No. We’ll attend to that. Mister Ren, it’s very important that you search your memory and try to remember if there was any interchange between this Shi woman and Lin’s son in Shanghai. Did anything unusual happen? Anything at all. Amorous, contentious, whatever.”

Ren listened to Chee Wei’s translation and thought about it for some time. Finally, he shook his head. “The only thing that I can tell you is that she seemed unimpressed,” he said slowly. “I did not pay much attention to her during our meetings with Lin Jong. You understand? She works for me. So long as she does her job, I don’t care about anything else. But the other women in the area all seemed impressed with Lin Jong. He was a handsome man, as I said before. But Shi Meihua…maybe not so much. She’s met many men who are just as handsome, and some who are more powerful. And Lin Jong did not seem to notice her either way.”

“Mr. Ren…where did Miss Shi grow up?”

Ren looked puzzled by the question, and he took his time in answering. “I believe she is from Hong Kong, or immigrated there.”

“Are you sure she’s not from Shanghai?”

“She knows Shanghai as well as many people who work for me but who do not live there, Detective Ryker.”

“Is there any chance her family might have been from Shanghai?”

Ren looked at Ryker directly now, but he listened to Chee Wei’s question intently. He took some time to answer, searching his memory for the information Ryker requested. At last, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know the answer to that question. Why is this important?”

“James Lin oversaw the purges in Shanghai. More than a few innocent civilians were sent to hell by that man. There are more than a few reasons to hate him.”

Ren said nothing.

“Can you call your office to find out if someone can get that information on Miss Shi? Regarding her parentage, where she was born, so on?”

“Of course. I’ll do it immediately.”

“Last question. Where’s Lin?”

“He left early this morning, with his guard Manning. Where they went, I do not know.”

“Left with Manning, huh?” Ryker thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “Has Lin spoken to you about the deaths of his sons?”

“Of course.”

“And?”

Ren reached for his pack of cigarettes but didn’t shake a smoke from the pack. Yet. “He is upset. His sons were all he had. His wife died years ago. He is a lonely man, now made even lonelier by an assassin who won’t attack him directly.”

“Mister Ren…did Lin ever tell you anything about the circumstances of his son’s death?”

“I know everything about Lin Jong’s…demise. Lin Yubo informed me Lin Dan met with an identical fate. The mutilation. The desecration.” Ren stirred uncomfortably, and Ryker found his discomfiture hypocritical at best. From what he had seen, Ren had participated in the deaths and displacements of thousands, perhaps millions. And here he sat, uneasy discussing the particulars of two deaths he hadn’t even partaken in.

They’re all the same…this son of a bitch, the Lins…I shouldn’t be trying to stop this woman from murdering them, I should be sending her flowers. He had to struggle with himself to keep from shouting epithets at the small, pot-bellied Chinese man sitting before him, and sudden anger surprised him.

“What else do you know about the murders?” Ryker asked instead.

“Nothing.”

Ryker nodded and checked his watch. Mid-afternoon was afoot, and he wanted to get to the downtown hotel in San Francisco and start tracking Meihua Shi. He wasn’t convinced she was the best candidate for the murder of Danny Lin, but she was the only lead they had. He rose to his feet.

“Thanks for your time. If you could check with your people in Shanghai about Shi’s background, that might be very helpful. Please contact Detective Fong with the information, whenever it arrives. Chee Wei, give the man your card.”

Chee Wei repeated what Ryker had said, and then handed Ren his card as instructed. His face was a blank mask, and Ren accepted the card with a similar expression. Chee Wei pointed out the telephone number, and turned to Ryker.

“You want to tell him anything else?”

Ryker considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Tell this cock-sucking, dog-fucking, inbred son of a whore I don’t have more to say to him.”

Ren’s eyes widened slightly, and Ryker laughed. Some words truly had international meaning.

On the way back to San Francisco, Ryker called in a phone warrant giving him the ability to search the hotel room registered to Maggie Shi. He then called Morales, still on babysitting duty with the Zhu woman and gave him a quick brief. Morales wanted to meet them at the hotel, but Ryker told him to stay put. He didn’t know where Baluyevsky was, and until he got a handle on that, he didn’t want Xiaohui Zhu left unguarded.

“Man, this isn’t exactly easy duty over here,” Morales said. “This woman’s a hundred percent bat-shit crazy.”

“That’s a high-maintenance woman for you,” Ryker said, and then disconnected.

Chee Wei drove as fast as before, but wasn’t quite as reckless about it. He signaled his lane changes, and didn’t hit the brakes like he was trying to stop a speeding airliner on a short runway. He kept his eyes rooted on the freeway before them, and his chin was set.

“What’s wrong?”

Chee Wei didn’t look over at him. “That motherfucker threatened my family.”

“Ah. Yeah, he did. You should give your cousin a call, and let him know. I don’t think Ren is the kind of guy to make an empty threat, you know?”

“It’s four in the morning in Hong Kong. He won’t even answer the phone.”

“So leave a message?”

Chee Wei nodded, checked his mirrors, and merged into another lane. “You think this woman killed Danny Lin?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

“Are we going to arrest her, or shake her hand?”

“What the hell do you think?” Ryker’s cell phone buzzed, and he checked the display. It was Spider. “This is Ryker.”

“What’s shaking, Hal? I just got a pulse from the DA’s office. You phoned in a warrant?”

“We have a lead. Not sure how hot it is, but it measures up with some new intel Fong picked up.” Ryker gave Furino the short version, elaborating only when Furino asked. It didn’t take long, and the more he talked about it, the slimmer it felt.

But at the same time, it felt right.

Spider didn’t comment right away when Ryker finished, and for a moment, he thought he’d lost the connection as the Lexus sped down the freeway toward the Golden Gate Bridge. “Spider, you there?”

“I’m here. That sounds a little thin, Hal.”

“I’m following up a lead, not bringing in a collar and typing up the arrest report for the DA to use at trial.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But Jericho’s going to be hearing about this, he’s got the DA’s office spooled up to contact him if there’s any official actions required on the Lin case. That’s how I got the call myself. The only difference is that Jericho’s probably on the golf course, while I’m sitting at home watching my ten-year-old clear a room full of zombies on his Xbox.”

“So what do you want?”

“I want you to loop me in if something develops. And track your time, both you and Fong qualify for OT compensation.”

“Oh, you got that.”

Ryker disconnected and looked over at Chee Wei. The younger detective’s face was almost expressionless, as if carved from stone. Ryker didn’t have anything further to say to him, so he just tightened his seat belt and leaned back in the seat.